Then welcome be it, if indeed it be
The Irrepressible Conflict! Let it come;
There will be mitigation of the doom,
If, battling to the last, our sires shall see
Their sons contending for the homes made free
In ancient conflict with the foreign foe!
If those who call us brethren strike the blow,
No common conflict shall the invader know!
War to the knife, and to the last, until
The sacred land we keep shall overflow
With blood as sacred--valley, wave, and hill,
Or the last enemy finds his bloody grave!
Aye, welcome to your graves--or ours! The brave
May perish, but ye shall not bind one slave.
The Southern Republic.
By Olivia Tully Thomas, of Mississippi.
In the galaxy of nations,
A nation's flag's unfurled,
Transcending in its martial pride
The nations of the world.
Though born of war, baptized in blood,
Yet mighty from the time,
Like fabled phoenix, forth she stood--
Dismembered, yet sublime.
And braver heart, and bolder hand,
Ne'er formed a fabric fair
As Southern wisdom can command,
And Southern valor rear.
Though kingdoms scorn to own her sway,
Or recognize her birth,
The land blood-bought for Liberty
Will reign supreme on earth.
Clime of the Sun! Home of the Brave!
Thy sons are bold and free,
And pour life's crimson tide to save
Their birthright, Liberty!
Their fertile fields and sunny plains
That yield the wealth alone,
That's coveted for greedy gains
By despots-and a throne!
Proud country! battling, bleeding, torn,
Thy altars desolate;
Thy lovely dark-eyed daughters mourn
At war's relentless fate;
And widow's prayers, and orphan's tears,
Her homes will consecrate,
While more than brass or marble rears
The trophy of her great.
Oh! land that boasts each gallant name
Of JACKSON, JOHNSON, LEE,
And hosts of valiant sons, whose fame
Extends beyond the sea;
Far rather let thy plains become,
From gulf to mountain cave,
One honored sepulchre and tomb,
Than we the tyrant's slave!
Fair, favored land! thou mayst be free,
Redeemed by blood and war;
Through agony and gloom we see
Thy hope--a glimmering star;
Thy banner, too, may proudly float,
A herald on the seas--
Thy deeds of daring worlds remote
Will emulate and praise!
But who can paint the impulse pure,
That thrills and nerves thy brave
To deeds of valor, that secure
The rights their fathers gave?
Oh! grieve not, hearts; her matchless stain,
Crowned with the warrior's wreath,
From beds of fame their proud refrain
Was "Liberty or Death!"