Songs and Poems of the South

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S. H. Goetzel & Company, 1857 - Alabama - 282 pages
 

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Page 10 - Why is't thus, this sylvan Petrarch Pours all night his serenade? 'Tis for some proud woodland Laura, His sad sonnets all are made! But he changes now his measure — Gladness bubbling from his mouth — Jest, and gibe, and mimic pleasure — Winged Anacreon of the South ! Listen, dearest, etc.
Page 96 - Thundering cannon, deadly mortar, Sweep the field in every quarter ! Never, since the days of Jesus, Trembled so the Chersonesus ! Here behold the Gallic lilies— Stout St. Louis...
Page 17 - God who smiles above thee, Doom thee to a soldier's grave, Hearts will break, but fame will love thee, Canonized among the brave! Listen, then! thy country's calling On her sons to meet the foe! Rather would I view thee lying On the last red field of strife, 'Mid thy country's heroes dying, Than become a dastard's wife!
Page 10 - Bird of music, wit and gladness, Troubadour of sunny climes, Disenchanter of all sadness — Would thine art were in my rhymes. O'er the heart that's beating by me, I would weave a spell divine; Is there aught she could deny me, Drinking in such strains as thine? Listen! dearest, etc.
Page 97 - Down that new Thermopylae, Flashing swords and helmets see ! Underneath the iron shower, To the brazen cannon's jaws, Heedless of their deadly power, Press they without fear or pause, — To the very cannon's jaws ! Gallant Nolan, brave as Roland At the field of Roncesvalles, Dashes down the fatal valley, Dashes on the bolt of death, Shouting with his latest breath, "Charge, then, gallants ! do not waver, Charge the pass at Balaklava...
Page 189 - IF thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moon-light; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
Page 250 - And thou hast prouder glories too Than nature ever gave. Peace sheds o'er thee her genial dew. And Freedom's pinions wave ; Fair science flings her pearls around, Religion lifts her dome. These, these endear thee to my heart. My own, loved native home. And "heaven's best gift to man...
Page 95 - Balaklava ! 0 that rash and fatal charge ! Never was a fiercer, braver, Than that charge at Balaklava, On the battle's bloody marge ! All the day the Russian columns, Fortress huge, and blazing banks, Poured their dread destructive volumes On the French and English ranks, — On the gallant allied ranks ! Earth and sky seemed rent asunder By the loud incessant thunder ! When a strange but stern command — Needless, heedless, rash command — Came to Lucan's little band, — Scarce six hundred men...
Page 98 - Thrice your number lie asleep, In that valley dark and deep; Weak and wounded you retire From that hurricane of fire — That tempestuous storm of fire — But no soldiers, firmer, braver, Ever trod the field of fame...
Page 98 - Now but lifeless clods of clay, — Now but bleeding clods of clay ; Never since the days of Jesus, Saw such sight, the Chersonesus ! Yet your remnant, brave Six Hundred, Presses onward, onward, onward. Till they storm the bloody pass, — Till, like brave Leonidas, They storm the deadly pass...

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