I.
Yes, build your walls of stone or sand,
But know, when all is builded--then,
The proper breastworks of the land
Are in a race of freeborn men!
The sons of sires, who knew, in life,
That, of all virtues, manhood first,
Still nursing peace, yet arms for strife,
And braves, for liberty, the worst!
II.
What grand examples have been ours!
Oh! sons of Moultrie, Marion,--call
From mansions of the past, the powers,
That plucked ye from the despot's thrall!
Do Sumter, Rutledge, Gadsden, live?
Oh! for your City by the Sea,
They gladly gave, what men could give,
Blood, life, and toil, and made it free!
III.
The grand inheritance, in trust
For children of your loins, must know
No taint of shame, no loss by lust,
Your own, or of the usurping foe!
Let not your sons, in future days,
The children now that bear your name,
Exulting in a grandsire's praise,
Droop o'er a father's grave in shame!
Charleston Mercury.
The Lines Around Petersburg.
By Samuel Davis, of North Carolina.
"Such a sleep they sleep,
The men I loved!"
Tennyson.