Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1867-02-08
For the Standarl
A Patehed-up Parody.

| o, sacred truth thy triumph ceased a while,
! And peace, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile
When leagued rebellion poured to Southern land
Her negro drivers and guerrilla bands,
Waved her foul standard to the breeze of morn
| Pealed her loud drums and twanged her trumpe
horn,
Our armies met them with their fiery van,
Presaging wrath to Davis and his gang!
Slavery'S last champion from her heights sur
veyed,
Wide O'er the fields waste of ruin laid
80, Heaven !' he cried, "my scattering 'niggers
savel
Is there no bloodhound near to chase the slave"
Yet though emancipation sweep King Cotton's
plains,
Rise, fellow rebs your ohiskey yet remains
By that dear name they toss their bottle high,
And swear with jeff. to live, with him to die.
He said and around that hogshead's bung ar
rayed
His trusty traitors few, but undismayed;
Weak paced and slow, staggering with arms en-
twined,
Sly as the cunning fox, drunk as the swine;
Low murmurng sounds DER Sumter's ranparts
fly.
Revenge and death-the watchword and reply
Then sweled the notes Omnipotent to charm,
And the loud cannon peaed the first alarm.
In vain, alas in vain We gallant few,
From fort to fort your volleyed thunder flew;
o bloodiest picture in the ''Book of Time,'
Our eagle fell, sore pressed, without crime;
Found not succoring friend, pitying foe,
Strength in his arm nor mercy in his woe!
Dropped from his nerveIess grasp the shattered
spear,
And for a season curbed his high career;
Strong men for a time bade their loved homes
farewell,
For freedom shrielsed as our starry banner fell
The flag went down, nor ceased their treason
there,
Tumultuous murder shook the prison ar.
On Belle Isle strand the fires of hunger burn;
Our dying heroes eyes to Heaven are turned.
Starvation rules, the life-blood shrinks away,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay
Hark! as Camp Sumpter's war worn heroes fall
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call
Earth shook, red meteors flashed along the sky,
And conscious nature shuddered at the cry
o, righteous Heaven! ere Lincoln found Il
grave,
Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save:
Where was thine arm, o vengeance where thy
rod
That drove the British lion from the sod;
That crushed proud Burgoyne when his car of
wrath
Was leagued with Indians and Numbered from
the North
Where was the man who slumbered with his
host
Till bloody Peackenham left the trembling coast,
Then bade his guns a fiery torrent pour,
And drove his British army from our shore
Departed spirits of the noble dead,
Ye who at Bunker Hill and Bennington bled,
Friends ofthe world, restore your swords to man,
Fight in the sacred cause and lead the van!
Yet fol Fort Pillow tears of blood Alone
And make her arm pussant as your own
And o. for once, in freedoms sacred cause,
Make equal those who fought for equal l1ws.
Yes, ye naughty Southern tyrants then did see
That man had still a soul and dared be free
A little while along thy Southern plains,
The starless night Of civil war did reign
Truth did restore the light by nature given
And our Ulyssus brought the fire from Heaven
Prone TO the dust, behold, proud treason stoops,
Her champion captured in woman's hoops