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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
A 
 
 t/ 
 
 SEQUENCE OF SONGS 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE GOLDEN FENCE," "ECHOES OF HOLY 
 
 WEEK," "SONGS OF A NEW DAY," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 vy-;,— 
 
 "Non quo, scd quomodo^U 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 W. J. DUFFIE, COLUMBIA, 
 
 PHILLIPS & CREW, ATLANTA, GA. 
 WEST, JOHNSTON & CO., RICHMOND, VA. 
 1882. 
 
7% 
 
 f «1 
 
 AND BOUND BY 
 
 .watter, Evans & Cogswell.. 
 
 CHARLESTON 
 S. C. 
 
 Copyright secured according to law. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The series of poems, here first presented in 
 connection with each other 5 belong to that period 
 of darkness and confusion which followed the 
 close of the war in the Southern States, but has 
 since been succeeded in each of them by a better 
 state of things, consequent upon the recovery of 
 their natural position of leadership by the white 
 population. Such of the poems as were printed at 
 or near the time of their composition, had different ' 
 signatures attached — initials representing some fancy 
 coincident with the date of their publication — or 
 had no signature at all. The method with which 
 they have now been arranged has reference to the 
 aspects of the past, the (then) present, and the 
 future, as they presented themselves at that time. 
 They stand very much in the order of their original 
 production ; not precisely, however, for one of the 
 sonnets, entitled ' k St. Paul in the Ship," bears the 
 latest date of any in the collection, July 3, 1876; 
 while both parts of the poem called " The Southern 
 Cross" were composed in 1867. 
 
 The writer has seen no reason to modify any of 
 the convictions expressed in these poems. Time 
 has only intensified them, in spite of a recent 
 renewal of most pleasant hereditary relations with 
 
several Northern friends. Pains were taken to 
 inform such of these persons as were not presumed 
 to take the Southern sentiments of the recipient of 
 their hospitalities for granted, and did not seem to 
 prefer to ignore politics, that there had been no sort 
 of conversion to their ways of thinking in such 
 matters, and that the person whom they had met 
 kindly, had been a newspaper poet of what is 
 called the " extreme Bourbon" type; with others 
 there was no greater desire to raise the question 
 than there would have been to discuss the supre- 
 macy of the Pope with a devout Catholic, cr no 
 opportunity occurred. If there should be any who 
 misunderstood the reticence which avoided sub- 
 jects it was supposed they preferred to ignore, the 
 writer can only assure them that there was no in- 
 tention of misleading them as to facts. 
 
 The authorship of the poems will necessarily be 
 known in Charleston and Columbia Several ap- 
 peared in the Nexus and Courier, to the editors of 
 which thanks are due, not less for favorable critiques 
 than for their courtesy in generally avoiding reference 
 to the personality of the writer — which can be a 
 matter of importance to no one. It is hoped that 
 the same course will be continued in regard to this 
 publication. Jf the song of that 
 
 " Bird of the wilderness, 
 
 Blvthesome and cumberless " — 
 
which, with its accompanying motto, was long ago 
 selected as the special chosen emblem of the aspira- 
 tions of the writer — should prove pleasing, is that 
 any reason why its small individuality should be 
 pried into ? It was preferred above all other fowls 
 of the air, in this instance, because it is both a singing 
 and a soaring bird, and because, unlike other high- 
 flyers, it is no bird of prey, and, unlike some of its 
 song-gifted relations, it prefers to sing in an undis- 
 turbed solitude. It is hoped, then, that the fate of 
 the little skylark which wings its upward flight on 
 the outside of this book may not be like that of 
 the one described by Tennyson as dropping 
 
 u At glory's temple gates, 
 
 For whom the carrion vulture waits 
 To tear his heart before the crowd.'' 
 
 Be assured, kind newspaper critics, that notoriety 
 is deprecated by the writer almost as ardently as 
 acceptance foi the wreath of songs which is here 
 laid at the feet of the State of South Carolina, is 
 desired. 
 
 For the benefit of the unlearned, we will here give 
 a free translation of the motto upon the title page : 
 l( Consider not by whom, but how a thing has 
 
 BEEN DONE." 
 
7 
 
 SONG OF THE SOUTHERN 
 MARTYRS. 
 
 I met a woman of mournful mein, 
 Yet in whose grief I found a majesty 
 
 More awe-inspiring than if she had been 
 Surrounded with the pomp of royalty. 
 
 " Hither, my child, I have a song for thee ! " 
 
 She said, then, as I wondered: " Knowest 
 not me, 
 
 " O thou who, but of late, had'st been full 
 proud 
 
 u To win my notice from among the crowd ?" 
 
 41 Alas ! " I said, " I recognize thee now, 
 " O discrowned queen — if it indeed be 
 
 thou — 
 "Who, with proud banner to the breeze 
 
 unfurled, 
 u Didst lead forth, to the wonder of the 
 
 world, 
 " 'Gainst fearful odds, to many a victory, 
 *' A host who sought their country's 
 
 liberty." 
 
" Of all my glory I have been bereft,' 7 
 She said. " The only dignity now left, 
 " Pre-eminence of grief. All my broad 
 
 lands 
 " Are desecrated by the spoilers' hands ; 
 " And of my treasures, all that I could save 
 " Were these sad tokens, rescued from the 
 
 grave." 
 
 With that, she from her robe a casket drew, 
 Displaying priceless jewels to my view ; 
 Then carefully replaced them next her 
 
 heart. 
 "From these, at least, I nevermore will part. 
 "These be the memories of my sons," she 
 
 cried, 
 " Who in my cause of late so bravely died. 
 " Of these they shall not rob me. Thou 
 
 hast long 
 " Wasted in idle dreams the gift of song. 
 " Rouse thee ! and though thy numbers be 
 
 but weak, 
 u Yet to this theme responsive hearts will 
 .• speak." 
 
9 
 
 Much musing on her spirit-stirring 
 word, 
 E'en while I stood, 'twas as there rose 
 the sound 
 Of that sweet, dirge-like air we all have 
 heard, 
 And for itself new words it soon had 
 found. 
 
 O ye whose blood seems shed in vain, 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 
 Who in the cause we loved were slain, 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 
 Ho ! Every Southern hill and plain, 
 
 Wet with their blood, hark to this strain, 
 
 And echo back the sad refrain : 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well! 
 
 Prolong the sound, each grove and dell, 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 Let every wind the chorus swell: 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 Yes ! How ye died long let them teli, 
 Grasping the pillars as ye fell, 
 Like the strong man of Israel, 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 
 2 
 
10 
 
 How, cov'ring your death-agony — 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 Fell the proud walls of liberty — 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 To shrine your graves. Posterity 
 A nobler fane may rear ; but we 
 That happy sight will never see. 
 
 Freedom's martyrs, fare-ye-well ! 
 
 FREEDOM AND FATE. 
 
 Late in a vision, I saw these two goddess 
 
 shapes on a plain 
 Where they had striven, it seemed; for 
 
 covered with many a stain 
 And rent were the garments of Freedom, 
 
 her hands, fast bound with a chain. 
 
 Calm stood the Goddess of Destiny, clothed 
 
 with resistless grace ; 
 Of the fierce conflict remained on her robe 
 
 not a single trace ; 
 Inexorably serene was the look on her 
 
 Sphynx-like face 
 
11 
 
 Then Freedom : " pitiless one, how oft 
 
 must I yield to thee? " 
 Fate answered : " 'Tis vain to rebel ; foi 
 
 thou canst not contend with me, 
 " Born of the will of the Highest, supreme 
 
 in eternity." 
 
 Freedom sent up unto Heaven an exceed- 
 ing bitter cry : — 
 
 " Am I not also, Father, born of Thy 
 will, even I? 
 
 " Would'st Thou not have all Thy children 
 in freedom to live ? " From on high 
 
 Came there a voice: " Yes, to thee I did 
 
 also thy part assign ; 
 " Fate to my laws too is subject, and to 
 
 my purpose divine, 
 " Siding with thee at the last, when the 
 
 victory shall be thine. 
 
12 
 
 " Cease then, O Spirit of Freedom, at 
 present to chafe 'gainst Fate ; 
 
 " Bide thou thy time, nor give way to trans- 
 ports of impotent hate ; 
 
 " Look not for triumph as yet, but learn in 
 still patience to wait." 
 
 " Ah ! But the time is long," cried the 
 Spirit of Freedom ; " my woes, 
 
 " Present and grievous to bear ; how I can 
 but weep over those 
 
 ''Crushed by the cruel wheels of Fate's 
 Juggernaut car, as she goes ? 
 
 "Still, I must own death is better than life 
 
 to those that are slain ; 
 " Not so much for the dead, do I mourn as 
 
 for those that remain 
 " Wearing their after-lives out in regrets 
 
 that are evermore vain." 
 
13 
 *' Grieve not o'er dead or o'er living, whose 
 
 lives are thy hope's sure seed ; 
 "" All," said the voice, " who, in heart, have 
 
 imbibed thy spirit indeed, 
 u Help to bring onward the time when the 
 
 whole wide earth shall be freed. 
 
 ""Then shall each gain due reward; in a 
 sphere where Fate never can 
 
 "" Triumph, thy work lies meanwhile— in 
 the mind and the will of man ; 
 
 " There shall thy strivings be in accord 
 with the infinite plan." 
 
14 
 
 THE DAYS THAT NEVER SHALL 
 RETURN.* 
 
 As in heart-saddening dreams we meet 
 
 The friends beloved of yore, 
 So oftentimes come back to us 
 Days we shall see no more ; 
 
 Oar breath comes quick, 
 
 Our tears fall thick, 
 Our hearts within us burn 
 
 At thought of days, 
 
 Of glorious days, 
 That never shall return. 
 
 Then our undaunted, hopeful hearts 
 
 Knew no such word as fail ; 
 We felt that God was on our side, 
 And thought Eight must prevail. 
 
 Oh well ! oh well 
 
 For those that fell ! 
 For us — in vain we mourn 
 
 Those early days, 
 
 Those golden days, 
 That never shall return. 
 
15 
 
 With hearts fixed high to do or die, 
 
 All fearless of the foe ; 
 We waved the flag, tha cross-marked flag 
 That now is lying low. 
 Not yet, not yet 
 Do we forget 
 The part with you we bore, 
 O noble hearts, 
 O gallant hearts, 
 That beat on earth no more ! 
 
 These lines were written for the well-known Irish 
 air of Gramachree, for which Wolfe wrote, " If I had 
 thought that couidVt have died ; " and Moore " The 
 harp that once through Tara's halls." 
 
 EHEU CAROLINA. 
 
 Methought, erewhile, I saw a funeral pyre 
 Like that sad mount that Tyrian Dido 
 
 reared, 
 And on the pile were laid full many forms 
 Of those I knew, all pale and cold in death. 
 As in the Niobean group, there showed 
 
16 
 
 One female figure, towering o'er the rest. 
 But with a beauty e'en more terrible 
 In all the awful dignity of death ; 
 For — ere by death from worse than death 
 
 relieved — 
 Like Niobe, she saw her children die, 
 One then another, till her own turn came. 
 Yet some were left to mourn, and they 
 stood round, 
 Weeping ; and you might see the smoking 
 
 piles — 
 Their sacrifices offered at her tomb — 
 And you might know them by their 
 
 stricken mien 
 Among the pitying or jeering crowd. 
 
 And hereupon, meth ought I saw a maid 
 With calm and even tread approach the 
 
 pyre 
 And lay a wreath upon it, and I asked : 
 " Who is this maiden, with the face un- 
 moved 
 " By the conflicting passions of the 
 
 crowd?" 
 And one replied: u The Muse of History, 
 
17 
 
 " Bringing her solemn tribute to the dead," 
 "But Ah!" thought I, " Alas ! No tribute 
 
 can 
 " Wake her to life again ! " And then I 
 
 heard 
 The mournful moving music of the dirge : 
 
 Thouliest low, to rise no more, 
 
 All covered with thy children's gore, 
 
 Eh en Carolina ! 
 Thy foes around thee mocking stand, 
 Thou liest still, nor mov'st thy hand, 
 
 Eheu Carolina ! 
 
 Thy very soul and life are fled, 
 
 No mourning bringeth back the dead, 
 
 Eheu Carolina! 
 O Carolina of the Past, 
 For thee, no resurrection blast, 
 Shall sound. This sleep shall be thy last. 
 
 Eheu Carolina ! 
 
 And here the children of the dead ad- 
 vanced 
 And, with a voice all choked with sobs 
 
 and groans, 
 3 
 
18 
 
 Said : Vale, vale, in seternum vale ! 
 
 Then next meth ought the hills, dales, woods 
 
 and streams 
 And all the land that once had owned her 
 
 sway, 
 But ne'er should own it more, gave back 
 
 the echo 
 Of: Yale, vale, in seternum vale! 
 And then the people out of every nation 
 Who stood around, some mocking and some 
 
 mourning, 
 Cried ; Yale, vale, in seternum vale ! 
 
 LINES ON A VIEW OF CHARLES- 
 TON HARBOR, AFTER A STORM 
 WHICH OCCURRED IN 1868. 
 
 It rained still in the distance ; dying 
 
 gleams 
 Of lightning quivered ; thunder murmured 
 
 still ; 
 And clouds hung darkly o'er the ruined 
 
 fort — 
 
19 
 As if, in unexhausted wrath, the heavens 
 Still frowned upon the broken altar where, 
 Of late, the ineffectual sacrifice 
 Of our best blood was freely offered ; yet 
 The scene was not all dark, for lo ! on high 
 Heaven's broad triumphal arch of peace 
 
 arose, 
 Calm as eternity, encircling still 
 The storms of time ; the broken, heaving 
 
 waves 
 Some fair reflections of that gracious bow 
 
 Did cast, while, underneath the beauteous 
 
 arch, 
 On sun-lit sails, a boat fled towards the 
 
 shore, 
 And seemed as 'twere a white soul, from a 
 
 world 
 Of ruined hopes, emerging undefiled, 
 Right onward to the haven of its hope 
 Speeding on wings of light. I hailed it 
 
 thus : 
 
20 
 
 Fly forward, buoyant bark ! 
 
 Behind though clouds be dark, 
 All free and open lies the way before. 
 
 The waves have spent their force. 
 
 A glad, exultant course 
 Is thine henceforth. Friends wait thee 
 on the shore. 
 
 The sunlight gilds thy prow ; 
 
 Heaven's smile is on thee now ; 
 Speed on thy way, the storm is left behind ! 
 
 This message from the sea 
 
 Thou seem'st to bear to me : 
 A deathless spirit no dead past can bind 
 
 THE SOUTHERN CROSS. 
 
 Part 1st. 
 Among the fine old Greek imaginations, 
 Which must survive, long as the race 
 shall last, 
 There are none nobler than the constella- 
 tions 
 Wherein they shrined the legends, of 
 their past. 
 
21 
 
 They looked for some unchangeable mate- 
 rial, 
 In everlasting characters to write 
 Those grand old myths, and chose the 
 vault etherial, 
 And wrote in hieroglyphs of living light. 
 
 'Tis as the heroes of the ancient story 
 Whose deeds those strange, star-pictured 
 forms reveal, 
 Still looked down on us from the heights 
 of glory 
 With the calm pity that immortals feel. 
 
 Oh ! bright reward of brave and high en- 
 deavor, 
 Beyond the sphere of earthly change 
 and chance, 
 Caught up to live among the stars forever, 
 Forever free to roam the blue expanse ! 
 
 But indistinct was that celestial record ; 
 
 So, wliile men dreamed of immortality, 
 Their fondest, brightest hopes were ever 
 chequered 
 
 By the dark void of their uncertainty. 
 
We, with the light of after revelation, 
 No figures vaguely drawn upon the sky, 
 
 Have sought; but one far-famed constel- 
 lation, 
 
 A starry cross, have Christians traced on 
 high, 
 
 Symbol of sacrifice, of self-submission, 
 Of meek endurance, raised to heights 
 sublime ; 
 
 Of faith — unknown to any superstition 
 Of e'en the wisest in the heathen time. 
 
 Replete with meaning, full of loftiest 
 teaching, 
 That sign seemed chosen with prophetic 
 eye 
 By those who— token of an aim far-reach- 
 ing- 
 Fixed on their flag an emblem from the 
 sky, 
 
 W rapped in whose form, the key, so long 
 denied us, 
 To life's dark mysteries and failures lies — 
 The clue through nature's labyrinth to 
 guide us, 
 The law of compensated sacrifice. 
 
23 
 
 That law by which the vanquished prove 
 victorious, 
 And o'er their haughty conquerers oft 
 prevail ; 
 Defeated, gain immortal honor glorious, 
 And win in Heaven what here to win 
 they fail. 
 
 For there they are not asked : What 
 
 trophies bear ye 
 From off the field of your successful might? 
 Eut : On life's battle-field, on which side 
 
 were ye 
 In the stern contest between wrong and 
 
 right. ? 
 
 Who steadfast kept life's purpose, high 
 and holy, 
 
 Who nobly lived, or nobly laid life down, 
 Or in a lofty station, or a lowly, 
 
 Famed or forgotten, wear the victor crown. 
 
 Therefore, ye who the martyr dead are 
 grieving, 
 Who, steadfast to the cause of right, 
 were slain, 
 Grieve not, despairing, as it were, believing 
 That they have lived for nought and 
 died in vain. 
 
24 
 
 But — as the chosen emblem of their legions, 
 
 The Southern Cross, while hidden from 
 
 our view, 
 
 Still glows in the clear sky of other regions, 
 
 Still waves aloft in Heaven's own banner 
 
 blue — 
 
 Be sure those heroes, now no longer lying 
 Crushed by defeat, but resting from their 
 
 wars, 
 Have reached that Heaven where still their 
 
 flag is flying, 
 Yes, through defeat, have mounted to the 
 
 stars. 
 
 Little of earth's successes transitory 
 
 They reck in those high realms, or earthly 
 loss; 
 Yet lives their fame, as shine in quenchless 
 glory 
 The deathless fires that formed their 
 chosen cross. 
 
25 
 
 ST. PAUL IN THE SHIP. 
 
 I. 
 
 Reading of Christ's apostles on the sea — 
 A prisoner obscure, to human eyes, 
 Whose life his Lord did yet so dearly 
 prize, 
 For him He spared the whole ship's com- 
 pany — 
 The tale an allegory seemed to me ; 
 The ship, to be our State I did surmise ; 
 And he, whose rank therein none recog- 
 nize, 
 The Christian element in her to be ; 
 And though that ship is foundered 'gainst 
 the wave, 
 Shall they who are Thine own contend in 
 vain ? 
 Thou who in the hollow of thine 
 hand 
 The waters holdest, now their force re- 
 strain, 
 And grant us, 'scaping from the watery grave 
 To come with them in safety to the land ! 
 
26 
 II. 
 
 I well believe it true, no man doth fall, 
 Xone rise, or by or for himself alone. 
 He who did once for the whole world 
 atone, 
 ' Giving Himself a ransom for us all,' 
 Bestows on those whom He His friends 
 doth call, 
 A share of glory not unlike His own — 
 
 As when, all safe upon that shore un_ 
 known, 
 The crews were landed for the sake of Paul. 
 Identified with all their earthly striving, 
 From the relations which to such they 
 bore 
 Their claim to immortality deriving, 
 
 What if the nationalities of yore 
 We thus should find, the world's last wreck 
 
 surviving, 
 With life still instinct, on the eternal 
 
 shore ? 
 
27 
 III. 
 
 As in that alien barque thou didst abide, 
 Great Saint, to thy condition yet I see 
 Another possible analogy : 
 Who now lie bound, their every claim 
 
 denied, 
 Their person scorned, their counsel set 
 aside, 
 The while, proud over a tumultuous sea,. 
 Mocking all warning, still triumphantly 
 The ship of this republic seems to ride ? 
 Doomed vessel, when the dread Euroclydon 
 Assails thee, and the yawning depths 
 devour, 
 For comfort to the now despised one 
 
 Mayhap thy crew will turn them in that 
 hour. 
 God grant the South, if come this ever 
 
 should, 
 Then for all evil to return but good ! 
 
28 
 
 ODE ON THE DEATH OF 
 GENERAL LEE. 
 
 Hast thou no voice, land once free, 
 O ancient mother, nurse of chivalry, 
 High honor, love of truth and liberty, 
 Hast thou no voice to mourn the death of 
 Lee? 
 
 From where she sits beside the tomb 
 
 Of many a fallen daughter State, 
 Mourning in a garb of gloom, 
 
 Their irrevocable fate, 
 She answereth : Despair is dumb. 
 How may I weep for any single one 
 Among the many thousands that have 
 
 died? 
 Speak not of grief, for I have callous grown 
 What words are these ? 'Tis grief that 
 makes them wild. 
 Forgive me, then, my peerless, sainted one, 
 Forgive thy mother in her misery, 
 Who buried hope before she buried thee, 
 Her best, her noblest, and her dearest son ; 
 Her darling chieftain, ever brave as 
 mild ; 
 Her matchless warrior, her heroic Lee ! 
 
29 
 
 Cold, cold as death her faithful heart must 
 
 he 
 Ere she can think on thee unmoved — ere 
 
 thee forget ! 
 They wish me dead, they think me dead, 
 
 but yet — 
 I know it even by this anguished thrill — 
 I live in spite of all their arts, 
 And must live while my children's hearts 
 Do still a true allegiance bear ! 
 And while they keep a yet unconquered 
 will, 
 And while that life I hold — oh, hear 
 me swear, 
 Listen and hear me swear, High Heaven ! 
 she saith : 
 The memory of Lee I'll cherish ever ; 
 To him I loved in life and mourn in death 
 I will be true forever and forever! 
 
 She ceased. Her words were echoed 
 far and wide 
 By whispered sighs and voices that replied 
 But brokenly. Xo thundering sound, 
 
 Rolled from the cannon's mouth, 
 No floods of martial music, rolling round, 
 Poured forth the grief of the stricken 
 South 
 
30 
 
 With these she would have honored Lee y 
 Had her cause been crowned with victory- 
 Not England, when she buried Welling- 
 ton 
 With more of soldier's pomp had wailed 
 her son. 
 With what a thrill of half-exulting pride 
 She then had laid him down by Jackson's 
 
 side — 
 He who with Jackson fain had died ! 
 
 But now we mourn with little ostenta- 
 tion ; 
 The sense of bitter, deep humiliation 
 Casts a shade e'en o'er the private hearth, 
 Hushing grief, as well as mirth. 
 
 Yes, we have learned to suffer silently; 
 'Tis not the fear of those we braved so long 
 When they were many, and we but few,. 
 Though hope and faith had made us strong. 
 That makes us bear in silence as we do ; 
 But it was Lee, and such as he — 
 Saving this land from anarchy — 
 
 Who manly fortitude and God-like pa- 
 tience taught, 
 And our high minds to this submission 
 wrought — 
 
31 
 
 Oh ! Not as yielded to the ungenerous foe, 
 But to the Will Supreme that brought us 
 
 low ! 
 For Heaven, that the victory might not 
 
 give, 
 For some high reason that we may not 
 
 know, 
 Yet granted us this boon, that Lee might 
 
 live 
 To teach us how to bear defeat — 
 Sure then most truly great, 
 As, in his great humility, he bent his noble 
 
 mind 
 Unto the lower duty now assigned ! 
 A bright, a great example to mankind ! 
 
 In this surpassing all he had done yet ; 
 Though whatman could do, he had proved, 
 When fain to serve and save the land he 
 
 loved — 
 He left his country in his lasting debt. 
 
 Alas ! the strokes of the knell 
 That of his departure tell 
 Are all but drowned in hoot and yell 
 Of basest brawls,* where in poor rivalry 
 
 ♦Scenes accompanying the election of 1870 in 
 the Southern States, when the governments 
 were in the hands of the basest of the people. 
 
32 
 
 Men strive together which shall be 
 Falsest to truth in the straggle for place, 
 
 Who, by most flattering pretence of 
 equality, 
 Win the vote of the lower race. 
 
 Toll out ! mournful bell ! 
 And as thy circling sounds still tend 
 To higher spheres, where jarring noises 
 
 end, 
 Far as yet earth-bound spirits may ascend, 
 Be our souls lifted to the calm above, 
 Accomp'ninghis, whom we revere and love, 
 
 To those far heights where he has gone 
 to dwell, 
 Into the only land of the free, 
 
 Into the land that is free from wrong, 
 Into the land of victory, 
 
 Into the land of song, 
 Into the land of the true and the tried, 
 
 Into the land where truth is clear, 
 
 And they who ever held her dear, 
 
 The pure hearted and the single-eyed 
 Who, loyal to the truth, have lived and 
 
 died, 
 Are gathered from the nations far and wide- 
 
33 
 
 Pass to thy proper home, Christ's soldier 
 true ! 
 To those fair realms that star the firma- 
 ment, 
 Earth, in this century, has never sent 
 A nobler offering than she makes in 
 
 you, 
 fearless knight, and without blame, 
 
 O brave and gentle Lee, 
 For whom now we dare to claim, 
 A rank among the deathless few 
 Who've worn their manhood worthily ! 
 
 Can they who scorn us show us such a 
 man ? 
 But one — in all their many millions — 
 
 show ? 
 No ! is the universal verdict ; No ! 
 
 No ! and they never can. 
 On their ungenial soil, Humanity 
 So bright a flower as this can never 
 bear. 
 We own they still surpass us as a nation 
 In all the arts that lower needs supply ; 
 That there can never be a rivalry 
 
 In mere material civilization. 
 Men only, men like Lee, they cannot rear. 
 
Then let them boast their arts of skill, 
 Their commerce and their wealth rehearse ! 
 Yet they have brought upon themselves 
 the curse : * 
 Woe to them who to the blind 
 
 Trust the torch of liberty ; 
 Trust the hope of all mankind ; 
 Blindness shall fall 
 Upon them all, 
 And the blind shall lead the blind. 
 
 We know that, in His sight whose hands 
 direct, 
 And the strange workings of events con- 
 trol, 
 The welfare of an individual soul, 
 Rising towards a lofty moral goal, 
 May well appear a thing as great 
 As the safety or wreck of a State. 
 Therefore, that land — whate'er befall — 
 
 Whose laws and institutions best perfect 
 The moral being in man, which to the 
 roll 
 
 *See Schiller's Song of the Bell : 
 4 * Weh denen die den Ewigblinden 
 Des Lichtes Himmel-Fackel leih'n ; 
 Es zahl't ihn nicht. es kann nur zunden." 
 
35 
 
 Of the world's heroes adds most noble 
 names, 
 Has cause for glory most of all. 
 And thou, Southern Land, great are thy 
 claims, 
 Whose patriot soldier saints are three — 
 Their names are Washington, Jackson, Lee ! 
 
 But now — by no fault of our own — 
 Our ancient laws are overthrown; 
 We lie at the feet of our enemies ; 
 And, bound both hand and foot, O how 
 shall we 
 Above the sphere of their base influence 
 rise ? 
 From the accursed taint be free, 
 Their worship of the false, their creed of 
 lies? 
 
 God of our fathers ! by thy unseen power, 
 Protect us in this supreme hour ! 
 
 By Thee, by Thee alone can we be saved, 
 Our souls to strength and patience nerved, 
 In self control and faith preserved ; 
 
 Thy grace can keep us unenslaved 
 In spirit ; shall we then sink low ? 
 
36 
 
 Forbid it, Heaven! Forbid it, all ye 
 graves 
 Of our brave brothers ! Let it not be ! No ! 
 
 Not for the lack of aught she craves 
 Be the principles denied 
 That in her day of pride 
 The South had never yielded ! Let her step 
 aside 
 
 From the race for power that may not be 
 Won, but by the loss of what we hold 
 Far more precious than power or gold — 
 
 Of all that makes us worthy to be free ! 
 
 Let her learn a lesson from her Lee. 
 
 Be it hers to train posterity, 
 So that — if ever the day should come 
 When from these ashes of martyrdom 
 
 God should bid her again to arise — 
 Her youth may bear them not unworthily ! 
 
 Then he, our hero, may look from the 
 skies 
 With deep, high joy, that is more worth 
 
 Than any we can know ; for oh ! to see 
 One's life bear noble fruit on earth, 
 
 Must gladden the heart in eternity. 
 
37 
 
 THE VANISHING OF THE 
 UNDINE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Full oft to me the sound of wavelets near 
 Will call to mind the gentle water sprite, 
 What time she parted from her well- 
 loved knight ; 
 And then her last words seem to sound as 
 
 clear 
 As though I heard them whispered in my 
 ear. 
 " Keep true ! " she cried, — then van- 
 ished from his sight ; 
 But still, in murmurs lighter and more 
 light, 
 He, through the waves, " Keep true, keep 
 true! " could hear. 
 Oh ! Once, in a strange barque with some 
 I knew — 
 The ship of state, perchance that barque 
 might be — 
 A like fond, fading vision seemed to me 
 To cry to us in death till her voice grew 
 
 One with the many voice of the sea : 
 Keep true ! it seemed to echo, Oh ! Keep 
 true ! 
 
38 
 II* 
 
 A man may bind his life with other ties, 
 Yet to the fair ideal of his youth 
 May not be false ; nor need feel shamed, 
 in sooth, 
 
 If he could look his dead love in the eyes. 
 
 Deem not, there spoke, in Undine's plead- 
 ing cries, 
 Weak jealousy — 'twas love and tender 
 
 ruth ; 
 For his own sake, she bids him keep his 
 truth, 
 
 Well knowing, if he breaks his faith, he 
 dies. 
 
 True, he may be no object for our scorn 
 
 Who weds again; but he who gives his 
 hand 
 
 From utter weakness to a living lie, 
 
 To moral death condemns his soul for- 
 sworn : — 
 
 Better for such a one, like Hildebrand 
 
 Wrapped in the arms of his old love, to die ! 
 
 This sonnet was written in reflection upon 
 what was known as the " Reform Movement " 
 in South Carolina in 1870. 
 
39 
 THE SOUTHERN CROSS. 
 
 Part 2nd. 
 
 Methinks — as when, by a strange power 
 attended, 
 Which Christians nerved, and heathen 
 
 spirits awed, — 
 'Twas flaming once in middle air sus- 
 pended 
 And won an emperor to the cause of God. 
 
 That heaven exalted sign, our chosen 
 banner, 
 Now from a higher sphere sheds forth 
 its beams 
 Upon our path, now — in far different 
 manner — 
 Is calling on us to rally where it gleams. 
 
 But in one form, our strife has found its 
 ending : — 
 
 The bloody struggle of brute force is done ; 
 The higher, moral conflict still is pending ; 
 
 The moral victory yet is to be won. 
 
40 
 
 The foe may not win that till faith has 
 left us, 
 
 Till they in very dust our souls have trod, 
 Of honor as of liberty bereft us, 
 
 Given us Mammon and Success, for God. 
 
 But there are yet — thank God ! — pure 
 hearts remaining, 
 And faithful souls that ne'er have bowed 
 the knee, 
 Not wasting strength in fruitless, sad com- 
 plaining, 
 But watching, waiting, working man- 
 fully. 
 
 Unknown to them, all those delusive catch- 
 words 
 That sway the passions of the mob at 
 will ; 
 Duty and Faith and Patience are their 
 watchwords ; 
 To their old guiding stars they're loyal 
 still. 
 
41 
 
 Brave sentinels through this dark night of 
 sorrow, 
 With strong and steadfast hearts your 
 time await ! 
 A happier dawn, a glorious to-morrow 
 For you at last shall brighten, soon or 
 late. 
 
 What though the cause of truth to earth is 
 smitten? — 
 Not all exhausted is her vital power ; 
 " She yet shall rise " upon her tomb is 
 written ; 
 Wait calmly then her resurrection hour. 
 
 Look far from where your foundered hope 
 
 now tosses 
 On yon dark sea, beat backward by the 
 
 tide! 
 Look to the region where our earthly 
 
 crosses 
 
 Are into heavenly beauty glorified ! 
 6 
 
42 
 
 Lo ! the old sign 'neath which the bold 
 Crusaders 
 Won back the Holy Land with hard- 
 fought fight, — 
 That led brave hearts too 'gainst our own 
 invaders 
 As beat in breast of any red-cross 
 knight, — 
 
 Shining from heaven, a beacon-fire o'er you, 
 
 Seen by the watchmen, gleaming from 
 
 afar, 
 
 Waving and beckoning, points the way 
 
 before you — 
 
 Like the wise men of old, led by a star ! 
 
 Fear not to follow, whereso'er it guide you, 
 Till ye — when all earth's battle-fields are 
 past — 
 Find your lost comrades once again beside 
 
 you, 
 And in the fields supernal rest at last ! 
 
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