The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-09-02


for the end of the struggle. are NOT
unsung. 1t is, as il God had touched
the lips of the whole nation with a coal
Of fire from his altar and they b oke
forth into song. In the begging of such
collection of war lyrics, we find scores
Of songs appealing to the men of the
country TO 60 for;h and drive the in
vader back Written in the liveliesi
and most stirring of measures they
bring vividly before the mind the hope
full condition of the people. Reading
them, we almost seem to see the gallant
companies, brave, bouyant and hopeful
marching Off to war TO gay beat of the
drums, with colors flying in the breeze
and glancing in the sunlight, while the
ladies wave their handkerchiefs and
shower down gay flowers. 1t seems
more like middle-age tournament. than
the commencement of that deadly
struggle that occurs to the mind now
when we think of the war. These
lyrics were composed on the pattern ol
almost every known war chant. w.
have addresses modelled on "Scois Wha'
Ha' wi Wallace Bed, "Bruce's Ad
dress, The Battle of Ivry, etc I he mos
stir ng and popular OF all was Jame-
r. Raudal's Maryland" commencing
with these fervid words:
"The despot's heel is on thy shore,
Maryland
His touch is at thy temple door,
Maryland,
Nvenge the patriotic gore,
That heckcd the streets OF Baltimore
And be the battle-queen OF y0re,
Maryland, My Maryland"
And ending:
Il hear the distant thunder hum,
Maryland!
The Old Line buge, tife and drum,
Mar, landl
She Is not dead nor deaf, nor dumb,
Hugzal ehe -pnrn- the northern scnm.
She breath-s, she burns she'll come, she'll come,
Marylsn ;, My Marylasdl"
When such song as this, and the
chants of.such poetic Southern Deborahs
as Mrs. G.. A. Warfield, of Kentucky,
we're sung literally from the Potomac ~
the Rio Grande, it is no wonder thar
there was no talk but of victo~y. These
bouyant songs continue till the battle of
Manassas, and then for the first time n
tender sob falters forth amid the glad
clash of the joyful music. Tor Southern
heroes have died and Southern blood
has moistened the grass of the battle
field. From that time on, we can tell
by Ihe graver, grimmer and sterner tone>
Of the songs that war has begun III
earnest. We see no more the battalion.
marching jauntily ous, but instead
mother, grey haired and perhapr
widowed, clinging to, and fondly kissing
the gallant boy who shall march forth
TO that terrible war, whence maybe he
will never come back We see beau.i
full girls, too, not with waving handker
chief and gay flowers, but with brave,
sweet words on their lips and tear
gathered in spite of their determine
tion in their eyes, sending out thelI
lovers to fight for home and hearthstone
With these poems then would we need
history to tell us our women were
patriotic and devoted and our meI
brave? Then we tnow that our armies
have suffered reverses and that the faint
hearted are beginning to doubt, for We
meea with Paul III. Haynes "Awa,
With the Dastards Who Whine Defeat.
Bye and bye, the so ,gs lose all tbei'
gay and joeund notes, and take on in
stead, tones of deep, crushing sorrow
and looking at their title we lind thai
Fort Donelsnn has fallen, that Shiloh
has been lost, and that enemy's hated
fag waves from the heroic heights
of the South's -Nieksburg
Then there are elegies, coming thick and
fast and heart breaking Que sings ol
Zollicoffer, another LAYS a poetic hawei
on the bier of the warrior priest, Polk
another means Albert Sidney johnson
the peerless. and dozens tell of Stuart :
Ashby's end Jackson's valors and deaths
Among these, the dirge on Ashbv, D,
an unknown author, written IN thnss
Runic measures, in which our Nars'
ancestry used to moan their soldie
dead, is fine yirile yet tender poem
and gives a perfect picture OF tina
gallant. chivaIric Virginisn. We hav'
room for but few stanzus from th'
piece:
Heard We the thrilling word.
Accent OF dread.
Fail like thunderbolt,
Bowing each head,
Over the battle dun.
Over each booming gun,
4Ashby oar brdrsss enc,
Ashby is dead.
Dash, dash the tear away,
Crush dewn the pain,
Dnlca CT decns be
Fittest refrain;
Why should the dreary pail
Round him be flung al allT
Did not aar hero all,
eiaiiantly siain9
Bold as the Lions Heart
Dauntess and brave.
hnightlv as kRightllest
Bayard could crave,
Sweet--wsth all Sidney'S grace
Tender ss Hamnaen's acA-
Who, who shall til the space,
Void by tbs graseF
Besides pieces Of this character teilin
the same story history tells, there AZ
others still more numerous, telling 2
what history passes over In scornft
silence. Of thousand little incidents Y
the battle field, by the camp fires, IN th
hospital wards, in the prison, OF th
aged fathers and mothers at home. !
rirIish sweethearts BY CHEEKY fires dream
ing Of their soldier love far away, aslee
on the damp ground under the stsrl
tent OF heaven. muttering their name
Al In his slmmber We read OF hun
dred pathetic incidents hat will, !
spite of our manhood aud age, bring til
tears to our eyes, We read OF som
noble fellow, wounded to death IN th
beginning Of charge, telling his con
rades to go on to victory, and leave hil
10 die there alone; of another poor y,
dier holding In his dying hand lockt
and a little tress Of golden hair MI
pressing then to biz lips, ard Rasnln
out 70 the comrade who bends ever hin
ttll her wa~ trac ID country and her
q buy hardly gr-wn begging N
hellow soldier I'D hnrv him with n
mathex's letters ami Bible nil his breaa
~ another boy, shot almost ~ niece
ssxanx the Woman who 6t1pd hc$ide