Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1894-12-25
Xlr iniai

To the Editor OF the Dispatch:
Soon after the war / clipped from the
columns of the Richmond Enquirer q
think the following beautiful poem. from
the gifted pen of Florence Hartland.
regret that the first stanZa is so mu-
tilated that it will have to be omitted
but that Will in no way mar the beauty
OF the rest, which. no doubt, will be read
with delight by every lover of the "old
Mother of States and Of Statesmen"
Respectfully.
r.. HUNTER BEAZLEY.
As with apocalyptic view,
The stored past comes back to me;
The spirits of thy mighty dead.
In long, PROGRESSIVE ranks. / see.
BY stream, on hill, in forest aisle,
They start up from their dusty slum-
Der,
And form in long and shadowy lines
\ multitude l scarce can number.
There Washington, his country's sire,
But none the less Virginia's son,
Leads on with calm, majestic brow,
Musing of battles fought and won.
And near him Lee-Nirginia's pride
Her Christian knight-her hero peer
less
With soul 10 God and honor true,
And heart as gentle as twas fearless.
And at Lees right. in faded dress,
His great lieutenant marches by
The smoke of battle on his face,
The fire of battle in his eye.
"Hurrah for Stonewall!"-hear the shout
His Spartan columns sweep the Valley
Like stars around the central sun,
About his flag the bravest rally.
And Stuart-prince of cavaliers
With his famed riders. gallops past;
A dream-a dream. and yet i hear
Distinct and loud, their bugle's blast;
| see the charge-the shock-the flight
| hear the guns of Pelham thunder
And--as the blue lines stagger back
A cheer that rends the sky asunder!
What gallant figures round me throng!
How fast the men In gray arise!
Ashby and Pegram. Latane,
Aud handsome, fiery-hearted Wise:
With all the old light on their brows.
The old. rash valor holly burning,
Pressing upon the foeman's track,
And not a glance behind them turning!
Old statesmen. too. before me sweep
Marshall. and Monticello's sage
The glories OF her golden age"
The strange. proud man 'of Roanoke
Still with his dark brow wrapt In sad
ness,
And the old lightning in his eye
That told OF genius linked with mad
ness.
He of the "silvery tongue" who once
Held statesmen hanging on his breath;
| And shook the throne OF England's kinl
With. GIVE me liberty--or DEATH"
| In the dim galleries OF time
The echo OF those words yet fingers;
| AS music clings TO some lone harp.
Swept. years agone, by master-hngers.
| But the great dead crowd back too fast.
cannot call the shining roll;
| Better some gifted tongue should sing
| A paean for each kingly soul:
| Back to your silent homes. We dead!
| Recross the cold graves waiting portal
| Rest In the soil you loved 80 we'll
The soil your names have made i'm
mortal!
| They soil. Virginia. thine 10 guard.
Thro' circ,ing years. their sacred dust
| Mother OF heroes. couldst thou be
Unfaithful TO that solemn trust?
| conidst let one blot on history's page
| Sully they ancient, spoilers honorf
| Could proud Virginia wear a gulse
| The dead would blush 70 see upon her
| Forbid II. Heavenl grandmother State
| We kneel around thy aitar-stone.
| And vow 20 keep thy 'scutcheon pure
| As did the heroes dead and gone;
Hand linked to hand. true heart 10 heart
| In bonds no tyranny can sever
Virginia yet shah mount throne.
QUEEN OF the Sunny South forever.
--Elosence Hsrtland.