Who climbed the blue Virginia hills,
Amid embattled foes,
And planted there, in valleys fair,
The lily and the rose;
Whose fragrance lives in many lands,
Whose beauty stars the earth,
And lights the hearths of thousand homes
With loveliness and worth,--
We feared they slept!--the sons who kept
The names of noblest sires,
And waked not, though the darkness crept
Around their vigil fires;
But still the Golden Horse-shoe Knights
Their "Old Dominion" keep:
The foe has found the enchanted ground,
But not a knight asleep.
Torch-Hall, Georgia.
Sonnet.--The Avatar of Hell.
Charleston Mercury.
Six thousand years of commune, God with man,--
Two thousand years of Ohrist; yet from such roots,
Immortal, earth reaps only bitterest fruits!
The fiends rage now as when they first began!
Hate, Lust, Greed, Vanity, triumphant still,
Yell, shout, exult, and lord o'er human will!
The sun moves back! The fond convictions felt,
That, in the progress of the race, we stood,
Two thousand years of height above the flood
Before the day's experience sink and melt,
As frost beneath the fire! and what remains
Of all our grand ideals and great gains,
With Goth, Hun, Vandal, warring in their pride,
While the meek Christ is hourly crucified!
Pax.
"Stonewall" Jackson's Way.
These verses, according to the newspaper account, may have been found in the bosom of a dead rebel, after one of Jackson's battles in the Shenandoah valley; but we are pleased to state that the author of them is a still living rebel, and able to write even better things.
Come, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails;
Stir up the camp-fire bright;
No matter if the canteen fails,
We'll make a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
Here burly Blue Ridge echoes strong,
To swell the brigade's rousing song,
Of "Stonewall Jackson's way."