Clarksville weekly chronicle. [volume] (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1865-1867, 1866-10-19
For the Chronicle.
ECHOES OF THE WAR.
BY SIDNEY HARRINGTON.

Anu ieil hpart, 10 JOIN hBaln, +
And Oft in many crushing blow
Two pondrous instruments Of woe.
The northern millions hate with rage,
Snatched up Secessias daring gage; .
Treasonl The cry swelled far and wide
Our Federal majesty defied
Traitors and braggartsI dare they stand
And brave US with palsied hand1
Yes, once the foe cen dared to taunt
Proud chivalry-an empty vauntl
But where bold Britain's believing dogs
Skunk from few Palmetto logs,
The olden echo stirs the air,
The South unrolls banner there.
Amid the crash of Sumpter's fall
A blade is snatched from every wall;
The sword that chsfed the grandsires side,
The sword that smote staunch England's prit
Greets once again the southern sun,
Leaps forth to guard the trust IL won.
The soil 1t wrested from throne,
That southern land is freedoms own,
And every belted southron there
Is freedoms stalwart son and heir.
Theirs proudly to ignore the right
Of sceptered arm or Federal might
To cen one blade of that bright sod
Which their triumphant fathers trod.
What reck they Of specious name?
In downy folds, or links Of steel,
The crushing hand, the grinding heel
or tyranny is the same.
Oh Freedom! when the reeking plain
Shall cease to shout the curse of Cain,
Then, then perchance thy fire divine
Win glow upon an earthly shrine
But till that hour thy name shall be
On proudest lips mockeryi
In vain for aye the eager hand
Shall seize the keen, avenging brand,
And seek to found cornerstone
On weltering woes expiring groan.
Alas that every manly stroke
Should wound the spirit they invoke,
The lance they couch in eager rest
Fer quiver in her tortured breast
All potent steel red sword, to thee
Truth, reason, bend theplant knee.
Thy blade is eer magic wand
In righteous mans puissant hand;
Thy voice the soul of eloquence,
The tiny length span immense
A glow wreathes the sparkling hilt,
The CORY point is plunged In guilt;
Reverse the blade, it's eer the same,
This end is glory, that is shame;
Were man the judge thy potent spell
Would damn high heaven and trans late hel
Yet by the edge some strokes sublime
Are dinted on the shaft Of time:
While Salamis-proud Marathon
Speaks out from the eternal stone,
Think not misfortune can efface
The glory Of a vanquished race.
A fearless people conquered Now
impoverished vasSals meekly bow
Beneath the chains that royal might
Has cienched upon the limbs of right.
A smitten people crushed with woel
What reck they of a boastful foe?
Fen though he bids them kiss the rod,
On ground where southern legions trodl
Thrust home the point, for as ye wilt
Once southrons proudly grasped the hilt.
Grand picture on the marble fame!
Like some lone monarch of the plain
Some solitary ocean rock
Freedom, all friendless, bore the sh ,ck,
Till surge on surge the tempest rose,
And whelmed her in sea of foes.
'Tis sweet to see what'er you hate
Sinking beneath the hand of fate.
Heap woe on woc-defy the shame!
Blacken fallen foeman's name,
Insult his widows proud distress,
Malign his daughters gentleness-
Hark to that wall they cry for bread,
The loved ones Of the fearless dead
Ti' freedoms glorious flag that waves
Above their unspoiled wealth--of graves.
Freedoms broad banner nations saw,
In the dark midnight hour Of war,
Those folds stream DER the blackend stones
And blazing roof.tree-heard the means
Of tamished babes and hoary sires
Where'er ye spread your freedoms fires!
And in red slaughters whitening flash
They heard avenging thunders crash,
While Oft the fierce, exultant yell
Fold where that badge of ruin fell.
Beaming athwart the murky sky ...
A meteor fixed the wondering eye;
A streaming cross, gcmmed er with stars
Proudly 1t swept the field of Mars;
Mid clashing steel each crimson fold
Was blazoned DER in lines of gold.
That banner lay upon the sod,
All battered, scorcked and drenched in blood,
But there was set no curse of God.
No womans shame, or murderous stroke
Blackened that honest dinge of smoke;
The shout that stirred the rustling fold
On 'fenceless weakness never rolled,
A knell of death, or wanton woe
And-boast less proud--no equal foe q
Fer yet stood forth in martial gear,
And checked its swif, and stern career.