December 20, 1860.
S. Henry Dickson.
The deed is done! the die is cast;
The glorious Rubicon is passed:
Hail, Carolina! free at last!
Strong in the right, I see her stand
Where ocean laves the shelving sand;
Her own Palmetto decks the strand.
She turns aloft her flashing eye;
Radiant, her lonely star[1] on high
Shines clear amidst the darkening sky.
Silent, along those azure deeps
Its course her silver crescent keeps,
And in soft light the landscape steeps.
Fling forth her banner to the gale!
Let all the hosts of earth assail,--
Their fury and their force shall fail.
Echoes the wide resounding shore,
With voice above th' Atlantic roar,
Her sons proclaim her free once more!
Oh, land of heroes! Spartan State!
In numbers few, in daring great,
Thus to affront the frowns of fate!
And while mad triumph rules the hour,
And thickening clouds of menace lower,
Bear back the tide of tyrant power.
With steadfast courage, faltering never,
Sternly resolved, her bonds we sever:
Hail, Carolina! free forever!
[1] The flag showed a star within a crescent or new moon.
The New Star.
By B.M. Anderson.
Another star arisen; another flag unfurled;
Another name inscribed among the nations of the world;
Another mighty struggle 'gainst a tyrant's fell decree,
And again a burdened people have uprisen, and are free.
The spirit of the fathers in the children liveth yet;
Liveth still the olden blood which dimmed the foreign bayonet;
And the fathers fought for freedom, and the sons for freedom fight;
Their God was with the fathers--and is still the God of right!
Behold! the skies are darkened! A gloomy cloud hath lowered!
Shall it break before the sun of peace, or spread in rage impowered?
Shall we have the smile of friendship, or shall it be the blow?
Shall it be the right hand to the friend, or the red hand to the foe?
In peacefulness we wish to live, but not in slavish fear;
In peacefulness we dare not die, dishonored on our bier.
To our allies of the Northern land we offer heart and hand,
But if they scorn our friendship--then the banner and the brand!
Honor to the new-born nation! and honor to the brave!
A country freed from thraldom, or a soldier's honored grave.
Every step shall be contested; every rivulet run red,
And the invader, should he conquer, find the conquered in the dead.
But victory shall follow where the sons of freedom go,
And the signal for the onset be the death-knell of the foe;
And hallowed shall the spot be where he was so bravely met,
And the star which yonder rises, rises never more to set.
The Irrepressible Conflict.
Tyrtæus.--Charleston Mercury.
Then welcome be it, if indeed it be
The Irrepressible Conflict! Let it come;
There will be mitigation of the doom,
If, battling to the last, our sires shall see
Their sons contending for the homes made free
In ancient conflict with the foreign foe!
If those who call us brethren strike the blow,
No common conflict shall the invader know!
War to the knife, and to the last, until
The sacred land we keep shall overflow
With blood as sacred--valley, wave, and hill,
Or the last enemy finds his bloody grave!
Aye, welcome to your graves--or ours! The brave
May perish, but ye shall not bind one slave.
The Southern Republic.
By Olivia Tully Thomas, of Mississippi.
In the galaxy of nations,
A nation's flag's unfurled,
Transcending in its martial pride
The nations of the world.
Though born of war, baptized in blood,
Yet mighty from the time,
Like fabled phoenix, forth she stood--
Dismembered, yet sublime.
And braver heart, and bolder hand,
Ne'er formed a fabric fair
As Southern wisdom can command,
And Southern valor rear.
Though kingdoms scorn to own her sway,
Or recognize her birth,
The land blood-bought for Liberty
Will reign supreme on earth.
Clime of the Sun! Home of the Brave!
Thy sons are bold and free,
And pour life's crimson tide to save
Their birthright, Liberty!
Their fertile fields and sunny plains
That yield the wealth alone,
That's coveted for greedy gains
By despots-and a throne!
Proud country! battling, bleeding, torn,
Thy altars desolate;
Thy lovely dark-eyed daughters mourn
At war's relentless fate;
And widow's prayers, and orphan's tears,
Her homes will consecrate,
While more than brass or marble rears
The trophy of her great.
Oh! land that boasts each gallant name
Of JACKSON, JOHNSON, LEE,
And hosts of valiant sons, whose fame
Extends beyond the sea;
Far rather let thy plains become,
From gulf to mountain cave,
One honored sepulchre and tomb,
Than we the tyrant's slave!
Fair, favored land! thou mayst be free,
Redeemed by blood and war;
Through agony and gloom we see
Thy hope--a glimmering star;
Thy banner, too, may proudly float,
A herald on the seas--
Thy deeds of daring worlds remote
Will emulate and praise!
But who can paint the impulse pure,
That thrills and nerves thy brave
To deeds of valor, that secure
The rights their fathers gave?
Oh! grieve not, hearts; her matchless stain,
Crowned with the warrior's wreath,
From beds of fame their proud refrain
Was "Liberty or Death!"