Charleston.
Written for the Charleston Courier in 1863.
By Miss E. B. Cheesborough.
Proudly she stands by the crystal sea,
With the fires of hate around her,
But a cordon of love as strong as fate,
With adamant links surround her.
Let them hurl their bolts through the azure sky,
And death-bearing missiles send her,
She finds in our God a mighty shield,
And in heaven a sure defender.
Her past is a page of glory bright,
Her present a blaze of splendor,
You may turn o'er the leaves of the jewell'd tome,
You'll not find the word surrender;
For sooner than lay down her trusty arms,
She'd build her own funeral pyre,
And the flames that give her a martyr's fate
Will kindle her glory higher.
How the demons glare as they see her stand
In majestic pride serenely,
And gnash with the impotent rage of hate,
Creeping up slowly, meanly;
While she cries, "Come forth from your covered dens,
All your hireling legions send me,
I'll bare my breast to a million swords,
Whilst God and my sons defend me."
Oh, brave old town, o'er thy sacred form
Whilst the fiery rain is sweeping,
May He whose love is an armor strong
Embrace thee in tender keeping;
And when the red war-cloud has rolled away,
Anoint thee with holy chrism,
And sanctified, chastened, regenerate, true,
Thou surviv'st this fierce baptism.