The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-08-08

AEISCEE.I.ANX
AS the following poem has been pub
lished by several papers, with all the faults
OF an ,lncorrected proof. We have obtained
from tho author q perfectly correct copy:
The Ruins or Columbia to those OF
Portland.
BY FANNY DOWNING.
How feel you, toppled from your height,
And black and ruined with the blight
Which fire leaves, his signal stamp,
Whereer his crimson cohorts tramp?
How felt you, when the warming kne!l
Upon your frighted city fell,
and woman's shrieks and chi!dren's cries
Went peahng up the ensanguined skiesf
How felt you, when the fiery stream
Leapt madly roaring, while its gleam
Lit up pale faces, sick with care,
Orrig;d in their wild despair
Ours is the right to question 80;
For all that fire can do, we know
BY fierce experience-fre whose birth
Spranr up from demons loosed on earthl
We looked upon fearful sight,
When, on that bitter winters night.
brutal general gave command:
Burn down Columbia and, sword in
His ruffian soldiers forward sprang,
And soon the defeneetess city rang
With cries and curses, prayers and grOaOs,
And crashing roofs and falling stones,
And soldiers yells of wild desire,
Co1mingled in a sea Of fire,
Which hissed and blazed, and ragged and
roared,
AS fast it's. molten torrent poured,
On church and convent, store and street,
In pillows Of devouring heat.
Far from the doom, they could not stay,
The afflicted angels fed away,
While powers Of darkness burst their
chain,
And sin and satan reigned again
Meanwhile they pilfered-warriors bold
All that was precious, gems and gold,
And priceless treasures, books as rare
Wrenched jewels ont of woman's ear
Snatched diamond rings from fingers light
Took silken robes and ribbons bright;
Nay, stole-as many q mother knows
Even newborn babies tiny clothes!
Brave knights! how high their pride must
mount,
AS they these doughty deeds recount,
10 listening school-marms, and display
Tie trophies which they bore away,
And find their soup-those valiant looms
Is better slipped from stolen spoons!
Some sights we saw, to thrill one through,
And prove what woman's pride can do.
Composed, amid such frightful scenes,
Our women stood, so many queens,
And though the cheeks were wan and pale,
Their flashing eyes made towards quail,
And showed them, in their strength sub
lime
The daughters Of our Southern climel
We saw the proudest of our land,
Beside their blazing mansions stand,
And, with scorn no words can show.
Hurl back defiance to the foe.
"Go on, vile wretches; steal and slay;
Our brave Confedel ates are away;
50 you, who fly their sabre's flash,
Like bowling hounds before the lash,
May war on women at your will
40 L rht ,ot,
The day of reckoning dawns on high;
Wade Hampton and his chivalry
Will pay our debit" They paid it we'll,
As many Northern home can tell!
We heard the white-veiled novice shrek
Within her convent cell, then seek
The Virgins aid with stifed breath,
10 'scape from insult worse than death!
We saw old men, who frantic stood.
Their snowy locks besmeared with blood.
Striving to form a shelter frail
For some death-stricken infant pale,
Beat down and trampled by the throne,
With mocking curse and obscene song!
And one we saw, who late had been
As pure as dew-drops, when their sheen
Bedecks the rose-bud's pear]y brow
with crystalline perfection, now
A glbbering idiot, mouthed and smiled
And chartered like a little child!
Il er brave boy brother near her lay,
Gasplng his murdered life away.
we saw the priest struck to the ground
BESIDE the altar, while around
me rlbald soldiery pressing up
Filled high the Eucharistic cup
With sacramental wine, then drained
From hands with human blood all stained.
Would that the Saviour's plea might win
Forgiveness Of such heinous sin;
And for the accursed wretches plead
Their ignorance Of each impious deed!
In vain the wish-in vain the plea
though drunken with dcmoniac glee,
they knew full we'll the work they wrought.
And knowledg@fresh enjoyment brought
Such sights we Saw that awful night,
And yet from our exalted height
or desolatioN we can throw
A pity for YOU puny woe
Contomptuous pity! All the fame
That Portland knows, from money came.
And all she lost by wreck or pain
Mere money can buy back again!
Our loss-Oh! God, what earthly ore
Our priceless treasures can restore!
Hulns Of Portland, keen the smart.
Yet ours is far the better part!
NO grand, historic past is yours
NO future glowing with the stores
Of glorious memories-in decay
You and your city pass away.
While, as the coming ages CLEAN.
CoLUABIA's WOES shall be the theme !
Or song and story; bards shall tell
How the fair Southern City fell; /
Fell but to rise and blaze sublime
star upon the brow Of Time!
July IA, 1866.