BULL RUN.

A PARODY.

At Bull Run, when the sun was low,
Each Southern face grew pale as snow,
While loud as jackdaws rose the crow
Of Yankees boasting terribly!
But Bull Run saw another sight,
When, at the deepening shades of night,
Toward Fairfax Court House rose the flight
Of Yankees running rapidly.
Then broke each corps with terror riven,
Then rushed the steeds from battle driven,
For men of battery Number Seven
Forsook their Red Artillery!

Still on McDowell’s farthest left,
The roar of cannon strikes one deaf,
Where furious Abe and fiery Jeff
Contend for death or victory.
The panic thickens—off, ye brave!
Throw down your arms! your bacon save!
Waive Washington, all scruples waive,
And fly, with all your chivalry!

HURRAH!

By a Mississippian.—Mobile Register.

Hurrah! for the Southern Confederate State,
With her banner of white, red, and blue;
Hurrah! for her daughters, the fairest on earth,
And her sons, ever loyal and true!
Hurrah! and hurrah! for her brave volunteers,
Enlisted for freedom or death;
Hurrah! for Jeff. Davis, commander-in-chief,
And three cheers for the Palmetto wreath!
Hurrah! for each heart that is right in the cause;
That cause we’ll protect with our lives;
Hurrah! for the first one who dies on the field,
And hurrah! for each one who survives!
Hurrah! for the South—shout hurrah! and hurrah!
O’er her soil shall no tyrant have sway,
In peace or in war we will ever be found
“Invincible,” now and for aye.