The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1867-03-07

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sTlsdesposs he'd i on thy shore.
Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
- Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That Hecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battiequeen of yore
Maryland my Maryland I"
orwhen win such q song Is that BY George
H. Niles, entitled God Save the South, lose
its relish for a human heart which cherishes
the blessed name of liberty
"God save the South !.
God save the South
Her affairs and her firesides- ss
God save the South! Il
Now that the war is nigh
Now that we arm to die -
Chanting our battle-cry, sas
Freedom or death!
.sga & ~ eliza sissa~sSsssa 4
"Rebels before
We're our fathers of yorei;
Rebel, the glorious name
Washington bore.
Why, then be ours the same
E Title he snatehed from shame,
Making it first in fame,
0dions no more
These will be glorious songs, channted all
the way down thepath of time or as long
as there is soul left In this land capable of
abhorring oppression. "Rebel" is word
which was never yet found except in the
mouth of q tyrant. When England wishes
TO Cypress Ireland, the Irish are srebels.
When Austria would Cypress Hnngafy, the
Hungarians are rebels" and when Russia
means to destroy Poland, the Inflated, but
glorious Peles are arebels.p Oh. allare sre-
bels".in thisworld who are not tyrants
The pious and sainted StoneWall jackson
was s.rekel," five allow such Wild beasts
as Benjamin Butler and Thaddeus Stevens
to call his name i. All brave, virtuous, and
freedom-loving people are ssrebels, when
ever and wherever tyrants can pronounce
Now, in this Southern war poetry, we finds
the genuine and the deathless spirit of Iiber
ty; and therefore 1t will be forever sung
with the divinest enthusiasm by the glO-
rions hateB Of despotism. : Who but the
wretch who carries the soul of snake en-
dungeoned in his bosom, will ever cease to
repeat with spirit these lines from poem
by John r. Thompson, on s.Coercion z
"Who talks of coercion 2 who dares to
deny S
Aresoiute people the eight to be free ..af
Let him blot out foreserone star from the
Or curb with his fetters one wave of the
Or the following beautiful poem, by r. <.
Rocket, written on the occasion of Gen.
Beanregards appeal to the people TO melt |
the bells of their churches into cannon :essi
MELT the bells, melt the bells,sastss.
Still the thinking ON the plains,
And transmute the evening chimes
Into wars Tesounding rhymes,
That the invader may be slain
By the bells.
MELT the bells, melt the bells,
$3.50 Though it cost atear to part
With the music they have made,
Where the friends we love are laid,
With pale cheek and silent heart,
Meath the bells.
Melt thebells, melt the bells,
Into cannon, vast and grim,
And the foe shall feel the ire
- From each having lungs of FIRE,
And ven put Gun trust In him
So And the bells. s..
Melt The bells. melt the bells.
And when foes no more attack,
And the liglafnips clold of war -
Shall roll thnnd erlessAnd far,
We VIII melt the cannon back
Into bells.
MELT the bells. melt the bells,
And they peal . sweeter china
And remind at all the brave
And WIN sleep through coming 3imes
- sNeath the bells e - S
We for one cannot conceive of time, nor
q ne: wish g, when this beautiful poem