Higginson, T. W.: Cheerful Yesterday..

Lowell, J. R.: Wendell Phillips.

Markham, E.: Lincoln, the Great Commoner.

POETRY

Albert Pike, Theodore O'Hara, Henry Timrod, Paul Hamilton Hayne, and Sidney Lanier are, with the exception of Poe, the best known of our Southern poets.

I.

Albert Pike (1809-1891), a soldier of the Confederate army, is chiefly remembered for his song Dixie and for his poem To the Mocking Bird.

DIXIE

Southrons, hear your country call you!
Up! lest worse than death befall you!
To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie !
Lo! the beacon fires are lighted,

Let all hearts be now united !

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie!

Hurrah! hurrah!

For Dixie's land we'll take our stand,
To live or die for Dixie!

To arms! to arms!

And conquer peace for Dixie!

To arms! to arms!

And conquer peace for Dixie!

Hear the Northern thunders mutter!
Northern flags in South winds flutter!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Send them back your fierce defiance!
Stamp upon the accursed alliance!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Fear no danger! shun no labor!
Lift up rifle, pike, and sabre!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Shoulder pressing close to shoulder!
Let the odds make each heart bolder!
To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

How the South's great heart rejoices
At your cannon's ringing voices!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! For faith betrayed and pledges broken, Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken.

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Strong as lions, swift as eagles,

Back to their kennels hunt these beagles!
To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie !
Cut the unequal bonds asunder!
Let them hence each other plunder!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Swear upon your country's altar
Never to submit or falter;

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!

Till the spoilers are defeated,

Till the Lord's work is completed.

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Halt not till our federation

Secures among earth's Powers its station!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie ! Then at peace, and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story!

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness;

2.

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Exultant pride soon banish sorrow;
Smiles chase tears away to-morrow.

To arms! to arms! to arms! in Dixie!
Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Theodore O'Hara (1820-1867) was a Southerner who made his reputation as a writer through his poem The Bivouac of the Dead, which commemorates the Kentuckians who fell at the battle of Buena Vista.

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;

No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,

And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.

No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;

No troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;

No vision of the morrow's strife

The warrior's dream alarms;

No braying horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.

Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumèd heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.

And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,

And the proud forms, by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.

The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,

The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout, are past;
Nor war's wild note, nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more may feel
The rapture of the fight.

Like the fierce northern hurricane
That sweeps this great plateau,
Flushed with triumph yet to gain,
Came down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break o'er the field beneath,
Knew well the watchword of that day
Was "Victory or death."

Long has the doubtful conflict raged
O'er all that stricken plain,
For never fiercer fight had waged
The vengeful blood of Spain;
And still the storm of battle blew,
Still swelled the gory tide;

Not long, our stout old chieftain knew,
Such odds his strength could bide.

'Twas in that hour his stern command
Called to a martyr's grave
The flower of his beloved band
The nation's flag to save.
By rivers of their fathers' gore

His first-born laurels grew,

And well he deemed the sons would pour

Their lives for glory too.

Full many a norther's breath has swept

O'er Angostura's plain

And long the pitying sky has wept

Above its mouldering slain.

The raven's scream, or eagle's flight,
Or shepherd's pensive lay,
Alone awakes each sullen height

That frowned o'er that dread fray.

Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground,
Ye must not slumber there,

Where stranger steps and tongues resound
Along the heedless air.

Your own proud land's heroic soil
Shall be your fitter grave;

She claims from War his richest spoil-
The ashes of her brave.

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest,
Far from the gory field;
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast
On many a bloody shield;
The sunlight of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,

And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes' sepulchre.

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave,
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave,
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell

When many a vanished age hath flown,

The story how ye fell;

Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor Time's remorseless doom,

Shall dim one ray of glory's light

That gilds your glorious tomb.