Your speech, my lord, might well become a Saxon legislator,
When the "fine old English gentleman" lived in a state of natur',
When Vikings quaffed from human skulls their fiery draughts of honey mead,
Long, long before the barons bold met tyrant John at Runnymede.
But 'tis a speech so plain, my lord, that all may understand it,
And so we quickly turn again to fight the Yankee bandit,
Convinced that we shall fairly win at last our nationality,
Without the help of Britain's arm, in spite of her neutrality.
Illustrated News.
Close the Ranks.
By John L. O'Sullivan.
The fell invader is before!
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
We'll hunt his legions from our shore,
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
Our wives, our children are behind,
Our mothers, sisters, dear and kind,
Their voices reach us on the wind,
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
Are we to bend to slavish yoke?
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
We'll bend when bends our Southern oak.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
On with the line of serried steel,
We all can die, we none can kneel
To crouch beneath the Northern heel.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
We kneel to God, and God alone.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
One heart in all--all hearts as one.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
For home, for country, truth and right,
We stand or fall in freedom's fight:
In such a cause the right is might.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
We're here from every southern home.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
Fond, weeping voices bade us come.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks
The husband, brother, boy, and sire,
All burning with one holy fire--
Our country's love our only hire.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
We cannot fail, we will not yield!
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
Our bosoms are our country's shield.
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!
By Washington's immortal name,
By Stonewall Jackson's kindred fame,
Their souls, their deeds, their cause the same,
Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!