DIXIE.

_Southrons, hear your Country call you!_

BY ALBERT PIKE.

Southrons, hear your Country call you!

Up! lest worse than death befall you!

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

Lo! all 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 take our stand, And 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 wind flutter; To arms, etc., Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Fear no danger! Shun no labor!

Lift up rifle, pike, and saber!

To arms, etc.

Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, Let the odds make each heart bolder!

To arms, etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

How the South's great heart rejoices, At your cannons' ringing voices; To arms! etc.

For faith betrayed and pledges broken, Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken; To arms! etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles; To arms! etc.

Cut the unequal words asunder!

Let them then each other plunder!

To arms! etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

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

To arms! etc.

Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed.

To arms! etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

Halt not till our Federation Secures among Earth's Powers its station!

To arms! etc.

Then at peace, and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story!

To arms! etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon shall bring them gladness: To arms! etc.

Exultant pride soon banish sorrow; Smiles chase tears away to-morrow.

To arms! etc.

Advance the flag of Dixie! etc.

THE RIGHT ABOVE THE WRONG.

BY JOHN W OVERALL.

In other days our fathers' love was loyal, full, and free, For those they left behind them in the Island of the Sea; They fought the battles of King George, and toasted him in song, For them the Right kept proudly down the tyranny of Wrong.

But when the King's weak, willing slaves laid tax upon the tea, The Western men rose up and braved the Island of the Sea; And swore a fearful oath to G.o.d, those men of iron might, That in the end the Wrong should die, and up should go the Right.

The King sent over hireling hosts--Briton, Hessian, Scot-- And swore in turn those Western men, when captured, should be shot; While Chatham spoke with earnest tongue against the hireling throng, And mournfully saw the Right go down, and place give to the Wrong.

But G.o.d was on the righteous side, and Gideon's sword was out, With clash of steel, and rattling drum, and freeman's thunder-shout; And crimson torrents drenched the land through that long, stormy fight, But in the end, hurrah! the Wrong was beaten by the Right!

And when again the foemen came from out the Northern Sea, To desolate our smiling land and subjugate the free, Our fathers rushed to drive them back, with rifles keen and long, And swore a mighty oath, the Right should subjugate the Wrong.

And while the world was looking on, the strife uncertain grew, But soon aloft rose up our stars amid a field of blue; For Jackson fought on red Chalmette, and won the glorious fight, And then the Wrong went down, hurrah! and triumph crowned the Right!

The day has come again, when men who love the beauteous South, To speak, if needs be, for the Right, though by the cannon's mouth; For foes accursed of G.o.d and man, with lying speech and song, Would bind, imprison, hang the Right, and deify the Wrong.

But canting knave of pen and sword, nor sanctimonious fool, Shall ever win this Southern land, to cripple, bind, and rule; We'll muster on each b.l.o.o.d.y plain, thick as the stars of night, And, through the help of G.o.d, the Wrong shall perish by the Right.

_New Orleans True Delta._

TO MY SOLDIER BROTHER.

BY SALLIE E. BALLARD.

When softly gathering shades of ev'n Creep o'er the prairies broad and green, And countless stars bespangle heav'n, And fringe the clouds with silv'ry sheen, My fondest sigh to thee is giv'n, My lonely wand'ring soldier-boy; And thoughts of thee Steal over me Like ev'ning shades, my soldier boy.

My brother, though thou'rt far away, And dangers hurtle round thy path, And battle lightnings o'er thee play, And thunders peal in awful wrath, Think, whilst thou'rt in the hot affray, Thy sister prays for thee, my boy.

If fondest prayer Can shield thee there, Sweet angels guard my soldier boy.