Then take me; but when (I charge you this) You have come to the b.l.o.o.d.y field, That the bell of G.o.d, to a cannon grown, You will ne'er to the foeman yield.

By the love of the past, Be that hour your last, When the foe has reached this trust; And make him a bed Of patriot dead, And let him sleep in this holy dust.[6]

"WE COME! WE COME!"

BY MILLIE MAYFIELD.[7]

We come! we come for Death or Life, For the Grave or Victory!

We come to the broad Red Sea of strife, Where the black flag waveth free!

We come as Men, to do or die, Nor feel that the lot is hard, When _our_ Hero calls--and our battle-cry Is "On, to Beauregard!"

Up, craven, up! 'tis no time for ease, When the crimson war-tide rolls To our very doors--up, up, for these Are times to try men's souls!

The purple gore calls from the sod Of our martyred brothers' graves, And raises a red right hand to G.o.d To guard our avenging braves.

And unto the last bright drop that thrills The depths of the Southern heart, We must battle for our sunny hills, For the freedom of our Mart-- For all that Honor claims, or Right-- For Country, Love, and Home!

Shout to the trampling steeds of Might Our cry--"We come! we come!"

And let our path through their serried ranks Be the fierce tornado's track, That bursts from the torrid's fervid banks And scatters destruction black!

For the hot life leaping in the veins Of our young Confederacy, Must break for aye the galling chains Of dark-browed Treachery.

On! on! 'tis our gallant chieftain calls (He must not call in vain), For aid to guard his homestead walls-- Our Hero of the Plain!

We come! we come, to do or die, Nor feel that the lot is hard: "G.o.d and our Rights!" be our battle cry, And, "On, to Beauregard!"

MANa.s.sAS.

BY A REBEL.

Upon our country's border lay, Holding the ruthless foe at bay, Through chilly night and burning day, Our army at Mana.s.sas.

To them our eager eyes were turned, While many a restless spirit burned, And many a fond heart wildly yearned, O'er loved ones at Mana.s.sas.

For fast the Vandals gathered, strong In wealth and numbers, all along Our highways pressed a countless throng, To battle at Mana.s.sas.

With martial pomp and proud array, With burnished arms and banners gay, Panting for the inhuman fray, They rolled upon Mana.s.sas.

The opening cannons' thunders rent The air, and ere their charge was spent, Muskets and rifles quickly sent Death to us at Mana.s.sas.

But, like a wall of granite, stood The true, the great, the brave, the good, Who, firmly holding field and wood, Guarded us at Mana.s.sas.

They promptly answered fire with fire; Danger could not with fear inspire Their hearts, whose courage rose the higher, When death ruled at Mana.s.sas.

At dawn the murderous work begun; The battle fiercely raged at noon; Evening drew on--'twas not done-- The carnage at Mana.s.sas.

Oh, trembling Freedom! didst thou stay Throughout that agonizing day, To watch where victory would lay Her laurels at Mana.s.sas?

Yea! and thy potent trumpet tone Ordered our gallant warriors on, To the bold charge which for thee won The triumph at Mana.s.sas.

Well might the dastard foemen yield, When Right and Vengeance joined to wield The well-aimed ball and glittering steel, Which hurled them from Mana.s.sas.

They broke, and fear lent wings to feet Flying before our chargers fleet, Which followed up their wild retreat-- Their mad rout at Mana.s.sas.

Strike! Southrons, strike! for ne'er a foe So worthy of your every blow Can your good swords and carbines know, As those who sought Mana.s.sas.

For that our homes are still secure, Our wives and sisters still left pure, Our altars drip not with our gore; Thanks, victors of Mana.s.sas!

Thy charmed trumpet sound, O Fame!

Let music catch the loud refrain, While in a glad, triumphant strain, We celebrate Mana.s.sas.

And every soldier's breast shall fire With emulation, and desire To equal--fame can point no higher-- The heroes of Mana.s.sas.

Alas! that many writhe in pain, Whose precious blood was spilt to gain Glory and freedom on thy plain-- Thy b.l.o.o.d.y plain, Mana.s.sas.

If sympathy can aught avail, If fervent prayers with Heaven prevail, In your behalf they shall not fail, Poor wounded of Mana.s.sas.

Alas! that blended with the tone Of triumph, breathes the stifled moan For many brave, whose dear lives won The victory of Mana.s.sas.

A grateful nation long shall keep Their memory, and flock to weep Above the turf where softly sleep The martyrs of Mana.s.sas.

HANOVER CO., VA., _July 30_.

CHIVALROUS C. S. A.

BY "B."

AIR--"_Vive la Compagnie!_"

I'll sing you a song of the South's sunny clime, Chivalrous C. S. A.!

Which went to house-keeping once on a time; Bully for C. S. A.!

Like heroes and princes they lived for awhile, Chivalrous C. S. A.!

And routed the Hessians in most gallant style; Bully for C. S. A.!

_Chorus_--Chivalrous, chivalrous people are they!

Chivalrous, chivalrous people are they!

In C. S. A.! In C. S. A.!

Aye, in chivalrous C. S. A.!

They have a bold leader--Jeff. Davis his name-- Chivalrous C. S. A.!

Good generals and soldiers, all anxious for fame; Bully for C. S. A.!