They came forth to destroy, With a fierce, fanatic joy, And boasted of the Rebels they would slay; But, ere the set of sun, There are hundreds chased by one, And they pray their legs to bear them safe away.

For miles strewn all around O'er the ground, The records of their flight Meet the sight: Bodies 'neath the horses' tread; Bodies living; bodies dead; And the swords and guns most beautifully bright!

But let us leave the foe In their woe.

To the G.o.d of Peace and Battle let us go.

Let us praise the King of Kings, 'Neath whose wide-expanded wings There is shelter for his children here below.

His arm, unseen, uprears Freedom's spears; If Freedom's voice be weak, His will speak In the cannon's thunder tones, Though the answer be in groans, And though a thousand tyrant hearts may break.

THE SOLDIER'S HEART.

BY F. P. BEAUFORT.

The trumpet calls, and I must go To meet the vile, invading foe; But listen, dearest, ere we part-- Thou hast, thou hast the soldier's heart!

It could not be so true to thee Were it not true to liberty; Far rather fill a soldier's grave Than live a dastard and a slave!

Thine eyes shall light dark danger's path, The gloomy camp, the foeman's wrath; Above the battle's fiery storm, I shall behold thy beauteous form!

With thoughts of thee, for thy dear sake, Redoubled efforts I will make; And strike with an avenging hand For lady-love and native land!

Then fare thee well, the trumpet's sound Commands me to the battle ground; But listen, dearest, ere we part-- Thou hast, thou hast the soldier's heart.

CONFEDERATE SONG.

AIR-"_Bruce's Address_."

Written for and dedicated to the Kirk's Ferry Rangers, by their Captain, E. Lloyd Wailes. Sung by the Glee Club on the 4th of July, 1861, at the Kirk's Ferry barbecue (Catahoula, La.), after the presentation of a flag, by the ladies, to the Kirk's Ferry Rangers.

Rally round our country's flag!

Rally, boys, haste! do not lag; Come from every vale and crag, Sons of liberty!

Northern Vandals tread our soil, Forth they come for blood and spoil, To the homes we've gained with toil, Shouting, "Slavery!"

Traitorous Lincoln's b.l.o.o.d.y band Now invades the freeman's land, Armed with sword and firebrand, 'Gainst the brave and free.

Arm ye then for fray and fight, March ye forth both day and night, Stop not till the foe's in sight, Sons of chivalry.

In your veins the blood still flows Of brave men who once arose-- Burst the shackles of their foes; Honest men and free.

Rise, then, in your power and might, Seek the spoiler, brave the fight; Strike for G.o.d, for Truth, for Right: Strike for Liberty!

SOUTHERN SONG.

BY M. C. FREER.

TUNE--"_Wait for the Wagon_."

Come, all ye sons of freedom, And join our Southern band, We are going to fight the Yankees, And drive them from our land.

Justice is our motto, And Providence our guide, So jump into the wagon, And we'll all take a ride.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, the dissolution wagon; The South is the wagon, and we'll all take a ride.

Secession is our watchword; Our rights we all demand; To defend our homes and firesides We pledge our hearts and hands.

Jeff. Davis is our President, With Stephens by his side; Great Beauregard our General; He joins us in our ride.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.

Our wagon is the very best; The running gear is good; Stuffed round the sides with cotton, And made of Southern wood.

Carolina is the driver, With Georgia by her side; Virginia holds the flag up, While we all take a ride.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.

The invading tribe, called Yankees, With Lincoln for their guide, Tried to keep Kentucky From joining in the ride; But she heeded not their entreaties-- She has come into the ring; She wouldn't fight for a government Where cotton wasn't king.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.

Old Lincoln and his Congressmen, With Seward by his side, Put old Scott in the wagon, Just for to take a ride.

McDowell was the driver, To cross Bull Run he tried, But there he left the wagon For Beauregard to ride.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.

Mana.s.sas was the battle-ground; The field was fair and wide; The Yankees thought they'd whip us out, And on to Richmond ride; But when they met our "Dixie" boys, Their danger they espied; They wheeled about for Washington, And didn't wait to ride.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.

Brave Beauregard, G.o.d bless him!

Led legions in his stead, While Johnson seized the colors And waved them o'er his head.

To rising generations, With pleasure we will tell How bravely our Fisher And gallant Johnson fell.

_Chorus_--So wait for the wagon, etc.[8]

MY WIFE AND CHILD.

BY GEN. HENRY R. JACKSON, OF GEORGIA.

The tattoo beats, the lights are gone, The camp around in slumber lies; The night with solemn pace moves on, And sad, uneasy thoughts arise.

I think of thee, oh, dearest one!

Whose love my early life has blest; Of thee and him, our baby son, Who slumbers on thy gentle breast.

G.o.d of the tender, hover near To her whose watchful eye is wet; The mother, wife--the doubly dear-- And cheer her drooping spirits yet.