The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1888-03-15
Songs Of the Civil War.
By HELEN n. PACKARD.

great event does which stirs all the deep enc
tlons of the human heart. An entire collection
OF the war poetry. good. bad, and indifferent,
would indeed be curiosity. But nearly all of
the good has been preserved. while the poor
has gone to the oblivion which it deserved.
We all remember how indignant the northern
people were when England demanded the sur
render of Mason and SldelI. This called forth
little poetry from-nobody knows who. The
writer called it ''impromptu." and no one
could very well doubt it. 1t ran thus:
''Take them and welcome. old England the
traitors,
Though a slave cannot breathe on your boast
ed free soil.
Your arms open wide to receive their opprcSs-
Should any one hinder, the world you'd en-
bro.
''St down at your ease, with Your ears Stuffed
with cotton.
For long they've been closed to paupers sad
wall,
You like the slave product, if others will keep
You heed not the SORROWS pressed down in
each bale.
Take them and welcome, old England. the
traitors.
Wen send yon the rest tor their heals) bye
and bye,
But never more say that you stand up for free
dom,
Or the civilized world will call it Il lie
Now ! leave it to the readers of the journal,
if that is not expressive poetry. Somebody's
righteous Indignation found vent in verse. and
nothing fiat about it either.
1t was common during the great struggle to
talk freely with any one on the great and abb
sorbing subject, and introductions We're not
always necessary in order to converse on the
topic which occupied the minds of every one.
| was travelling on one of the steamers of the
Boston and Bangor line. in the early days of
the war, when it had been in progress perhaps
year. l was very young, and also very en-
thusiastic, and l naturally joined an eager
crowd oflsteners around pale, scholarly look
ing young man who was dscoursing on the
great struggle. ! remember that he was very
entertaining. and also very poctical. He con-
cluded his informal remarks by recitng
poem. had never before heard il, and indeed
it was new, hut ] shall never forget the impress
sion it produced on the crowds who gathered
IN the saloon of the proud steamer as she
ploughed her stately way through the waters
of the broad Atlantic. Early the next MORN
Ing We arrived in Boston. and as | sat in the
train which swiftly carried me to my home in
Lawrence, | wondered if | should ever again
be thrilled by that most startling poem.
The same evening of my arrival, there was
to be grand ''war rally" ut the city hall. and,
as Lewis Barker and several other eloquent
speakers We're to be present, naturally found
myself with the eager swaving crowd, who
pressed up the broad steps, and rapidly filled
the large hall, until the whole was Il perfect
sea of faces. | do not remember the speakers.
only one, Lewis Barker. lie came rapidly to
the front of the PLATFORM and with no prcIim-
inaries whatever, recited the following lines iii
deep. impressive voice:
TIE OLD SHIP OF STATE
''o'er the dark, and the gloomy horizon which
bounds her.
Through the night and the storm, and the
hell which surrounds her,
| can see with Il faith which immortas have
given,
Burning words blazing out. Ger the portals
of Heaven,
She will live.
but a part of the freight which our forcfath-
ers gave her.
We must cast to the deep yawnin" waters TO
save her.
'Tis the chain for the slave. we must fling out
to light her.
"fiS the brand and the whip. We must Weld
up to right her.
She will live.
Clear the decks of the curse. ifopposc by the
owner,
liurl the wretch to the wave. as they hurled
over Jonah,
it'll Freedom to alt cleaning forth from
our banner,
Let the tYrant vet learn. We have Freeman
to man her.
She will live.
She will live while IL billow lies swelling before
She will live while the blue arch of Heaven
bends DER her,
While the name of Il Christ, TO the fallen we
cherish,
She will live.
OF course the effect was electrical and cheer
after cheer from the excited crowd rent the
air. 1t is, of course, needless to tell the read
crs of the journal that our OWE native poet.
David Barker, was the author. as he was of
many war poems. He wrote. '''rhe Empty
Sleeve" lSo poem OH the death of Gen. Ber-
ry. and long one of peculiar meter the name
of which have forgotten. 1t was tedious in
its many repct;tion>, and was too Pathological
for many readings. 1t can probably be found
in his book of poems. aud if any of the Journal
readers have time. | would advise them to read
it.
There are many instances recorded of proph-
etc verses written by the soldiers themselves
just previous to a battle. No one can doubt if
the poetic instinct was strong, that the solemn
thoughts of the coming conflict would bring it
to the front. | will copy a little poem which
was said to have been taken from the pocket of
dead soldier, and which | believe has never
before been published, The patllos. the direct
simplicity, and, above all else, the rugged
honesty, and pure patriotic spirit, may well al,-
peal to every loyal heart.
81 lay me down to sleep,
With little though or care,
Whether my waking fin.
Me here or there
4 bowing burlened heart
That only seeks to rest,
unqueStionipgly upon
loving breast.
My good right hand forgets
Its cunning now,
To march the weary march
know not how.
am not eager bold,
Nor strong-all that is past,
am ready not to do,
AT last, at last
My half-,ay's work is done,
And this is all my part
give patient God,
My patient heart.
And grasp His banner still,
Though all its blue be dim,
These stripes no less than stars
Lead after Him.
l will close this paper by giving little
Southern poetry. Probably this is not a fair
sample of the average poetry Of our misguided
neighbors, but, as said in my first paper. they
could not put the same fire and eloquencc into
their songs and poems that we could into ours
for the simple reason that we We're right and
they were wrong. And while our war songs
are still remembered and sung with will,
theirs are but faint and feeble echo of the
lost cause which they represent. While our
war poems are nearly all preserved for future
generations. but few of those of the South were
deemed worthy of preservation. AS the Jour-
nal can see, this poetry is written to show up
the blessings of the institution of slavery, and
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