SEVENTY-SIX AND SIXTY-ONE.

BY JOHN W. OVERALL.

Ye spirits of the glorious dead!
Ye watchers in the sky!
Who sought the patriot’s crimson bed,
With holy trust and high—
Come, lend your inspiration now,
Come, fire each Southern son,
Who nobly fights for freemen’s rights,
And shouts for sixty-one.
Come, teach them how on hill, on glade,
Quick leaping from your side,
The lightning flash of sabers made
A red and flowing tide;
How well ye fought, how bravely fell,
Beneath our burning sun,
And let the lyre, in strains of fire,
So speak of sixty-one.
There’s many a grave in all the land,
And many a crucifix,
Which tells how that heroic band
Stood firm in seventy-six—
Ye heroes of the deathless past,
Your glorious race is run,
But from your dust springs freemen’s trust,
And blows for sixty-one.
We build our altars where you lie,
On many a verdant sod,
With sabers pointing to the sky,
And sanctified of God;
The smoke shall rise from every pile,
Till Freedom’s cause is won,
And every mouth throughout the South
Shall shout for sixty-one!

KENTUCKY.

BY ESTELLE.

“Just send for us Kentucky boys,
And we’ll protect you, ladies.”—Old Song.
Then, leave us not, Kentucky boys,
Though thick upon thy border,
The vulture flaps his restless wing,
And scowls the dark marauder.

Kentucky blood is just as proud,
Kentucky powder ready,
Kentucky hearts are just as brave,
Kentucky nerve as steady,
As when the flag we once revered,
Unfolded o’er her proudly,
And for the South, Kentucky’s voice,
Undaunted, echoed loudly.
The lion-hearted hero then,
Who led that gallant number,
Must surely feel a sad unrest
Disturb his death-cold slumber.
And one whose sire, on history’s page,
Is blent in proudest story,
Fell on a Southern field, and bathed
His dying brow in glory.
Fell, overcome by savage foes,
Yet still their rage defying;
“These, give my father,” cried the son,
“And tell him how I’m dying.”

But now that flag is vilely stained,
Its sacred rights invaded—
Wrong and dishonor wield the staff;
Its glory’s sadly shaded.
And when we would its dying spark
Snatch from the blackening ashes,
And worship once again its light,
As through the world it flashes,
Kentucky leans upon her arms,
And coldly looks about her,
Till hirelings, at her very door,
Dare threaten, and to flout her.
Desert us now, Kentucky boys,
And on the future dawning,
Thy faded glory scarce will streak
The first gray light of morning.
Heed not the starveling crew, who hang
Upon the blue Ohio,
A craven heart each traitor bears,
And dare not venture nigher.

And should they—know ye not the blood
Within our full hearts beaming?—
At once ten thousand scabbards fly,
Ten thousand blades are gleaming!
Then, waken from thy nerveless sleep,
Gird on thy well-tried armor,
And soon the braggart North will feel
That Right has strength to harm her.
Kentucky boys and girls have we—
From us ye may not take them;
Sad-hearted will ye give them up,
And for the foe forsake them?
Oh, Tennessee, twin-sister, grieves,
To take thy hand at parting,
And feel that from its farewell grasp
A brother’s blood is starting.
It must not be! Kentucky, come!
Virginia loudly calls thee;
And Maryland defenseless stands,
To share what fate befalls thee.

Come ere the tyrant’s chain is forged,
From out the war-cloud looming;
Come ere thy palsied knee is bent,
To hopeless ruin dooming.