Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

Languages Used:

• English

LC Subject Headings:

• Liberty -- Poetry.
• Confederate States of America -- Poetry.
• United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Poetry.
• Patriotic poetry, American -- Southern States.
• War poetry, American -- Southern States.

Revision History:

• 2001-01-24,
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• 2000-12-04,
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POEM:
"CONFEDERATE AMERICA."

R. LYNDEN COWPER.

                         Primum ego me illorum dederim
                         Quibus esse poetas,
                         Excerpam numero;
                         Ingenium cui sit, cui mens divinior
                         atque os
                         Magna sonaturum des, nominis hujus
                         honorem.

--Horace.

                         Eik naphelu gibborim.
                         Wayobedu Kelee milchamah.
                         How are the mighty fallen!
                         And the weapons of war perished!

--David.

RALEIGH:
BOOK AND JOB OFFICE STEAM POWER PRESS PRINT.
1864.

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
TO THE
PRESIDENT, THE CABINET, CONGRESS
AND THE
TRIUMPHANT WARRIORS OF THE SOUTH.

"CONFEDERATE AMERICA."

                         To God the Great Almighty King
                         Let harps resound: attune and sing
                         Of Jupiter, Mars, or Achilles,
                         And gods of wars, and purpled seas,
                         Of Titans torn on bloody field,
                         And scarlet-wound, or batter'd shield,
                         Of fallen Trojans--glory--fame,
                         Bright laurels, and immortal name:
                         Awake then Lyre, praise Father, Son,
                         And Freedom's battles fought and won!

                         Rejoice! a new born Kingdom's here!
                         A Land of splendor, fresh and dear!
                         Lo! the night of gloom hath nearly gone;
                         Light's eye-lids ope; Aurora's dawn
                         Is blushing now; the redden'd sky
                         Tells that the golden sun is nigh!
                         Let Freemen shout, and heroes reign
                         O'er Southern clime and rolling main!
                         View Americ's Land scarce in birth,
                         Ere oppression's arm would crush to earth
                         Our trusting heart and growing pride
                         To hope and fortune here denied!
                         A jealous interest, sordid lust,
                         Made northern King crave freemen's dust!
                         Their shining arms, united power,
                         Strove to pluck from us a flower;
                         But burnish'd sword, nor chary chief,
                         Shall win a single scented leaf!
                         Their Navies proud swam mighty seas,
                         And thought to rule a South with ease:
                         Loud echoed trumpets, for the sound
                         Of soldiers tramp so wide around.
                         But Freemen rose, like Israel's band,
                         For Altars dear and cherish'd land!
                         With sword unsheath'd flag on high,
                         We swear to God to rule or die!
                         Loud, long and steady was oppression's roar
                         By Freemen heard from tyrant's shore;

                         And thousands fell on bloody plain,
                         Whilst distant fleets in stormy main,
                         Fought bravely Surges of the Blue
                         And bade the land a long adieu!
                         On mount or vale, on hill and field,
                         March'd cowards with their shining shield:
                         Then clash'd the steel and sabre-stroke--
                         Then champions' wrath full high awoke--
                         Then cannon boom'd; carnage wide,
                         Caused northern blood to flow in tide!
                         Aloft our banner spread her wing,
                         O'er southern clime and northern king!
                         And heroes noble saw it there,
                         Unmolested calm in native air!
                         Yes, Southrons saw it, true to sight,
                         Near sun by day, by stars at night,
                         Still onward, on, expand'd wing,
                         Triumphant o'er a North and king!
                         That banner proud well knew the cause,
                         And cheer'd a South in mighty wars:
                         Yes, God, its Author, bade it soar
                         Till tyrants' tramp be heard no more!
                         Ah, who could reign when he forbade?
                         When arm omnipotent oppression stayed!
                         Tho' contest hard, true history's page
                         Shall deeds record of youth and age.
                         Our banners wrap the fallen brave--
                         They sleep in fame's immortal grave--
                         Sound minister praise sire and son--
                         Who live to see their freedom won!
                         Yes vict'ry's voice we'll hear at last--
                         Triumph's trumpet shall give the blast--
                         And shame, defeat, ah, fearful loss
                         Their chieftains claim that fallen host--
                         As back to country and her king
                         To tell of us that clippid her wing!!
                         Dark truly was our Nation's year--
                         Thus rose the south thro' grief and tear--
                         Dark were the clouds across our breast;

                         By trials here gain'd we rest!
                         The storms that black'd the once blue sky--
                         The smoke that hid the sun's bright eye--
                         The soldiers' tramp across the plain--
                         The mighty fleet that swarm the main--
                         Their chiefs and lords shall, ere long, have fled
                         To sleep in shame's dishonored bed!
                         The martial sound shall die away;
                         The star of hope shed bright its ray;
                         The morning light shall shine in peace;
                         To the rising of a modern Greece!
                         What heroes sprang to give us life;
                         What scenes of sorrow and of strife;
                         At their approach fair Freedom smiled;
                         With valiant hearts, unknown to guile;
                         By God preserved, true men to rule;
                         In science skilled, war's bloody school!
                         By genius led, eventful hand,
                         Freedom's race was swift and grand!
                         No foe could reach by ball nor shot;
                         They soar'd above the markman's art;
                         Their shield was God, their anchor--truth;
                         Fortune's children from their youth!
                         No station high could tempt their soul;
                         No hope of conquest made them bold;
                         They fought for Right, this their weal;
                         Thy country's cause their sacred Seal!
                         No blemish theirs from youth to age;
                         No less the hero than the sage;
                         Did tyrant's passion mark their speech?
                         Or vice to mortals did they teach?
                         Stood not they as fair as mortal men?
                         Bright victors of a christian land?
                         O honored sons, ye fallen free;
                         Great martyr-souls of Liberty;
                         Ye saw your South oppress'd by foes--
                         Ye heard her sigh and felt her woes--
                         Ye march'd amidst fierce battles rage--
                         The grandest scene on history's page--

                         Yes, calmly pointing to the stars--
                         And God did bless the southern bars!
                         "Onward," cried ye--"To the strife;"
                         And sublimity spent a hero-life!
                         Your virtues shine like sabre-beam;
                         Your brows are laurel'd ever-green;
                         Thy fame shall dwell like planets high;
                         Triumphant in eternity!
                         This sacred name, great Washington;
                         He is our land's best noblest son;
                         Nor clime can point to such as he--
                         Who snapp'd the chain, first made us free!
                         Yet distant worlds tell glory's deed;
                         Or loudly of their chieftains read;
                         Yet none shall speak in tones so fair
                         As can our Southern happy sphere!
                         O Macedon, write great Philip's name;
                         And Greece thy Alexander's fame;
                         Let France proclaim grand Bonapart;
                         Or Rome high praise a Cæsar's art;
                         Let Wellington proud Britain boast;
                         All tell their honor'd mighty host;
                         Yet tallest chief, like summer's sun--
                         Virginia's pride--our Washington!
                         He is centre, earth's circle, fame;
                         Virtue's spotless, jewel'd name!
                         Whilst stars revolve, he sheds his lustre bright!
                         And shines forever as a chief while planets blaze at night!
                         But struggles vanish'd, clouds withdrew;
                         The light of peace appears to view!
                         Cease howling war and martial sound;
                         Be heard nor move in camp around;
                         Sav Southern clime to joy awake;
                         Triumphant made by sabre stroke!
                         Loud sing, ye Virgins, true and fair,
                         The Lay of Dixie--gleeful air;
                         Whilst your lovers' banners wave
                         O'er the land of free and brave!
                         Tho' Beauty's cheek--there dwell a tear

                         For loved ones lost and kindred dear;
                         Tho' mothers' heart's sad, weep for son,
                         Who died on shield yet glory won;
                         Tho' many a rose shall pine away
                         Whilst on the field her hero lay;
                         Ah murmur not--each death was free--
                         They fought for life and liberty!
                         Their sun is fair, tho' was it red,
                         As if in blood he had dipp'd his head,
                         When last they gazed upon his light
                         To sleep in death's immortal night!
                         Ah, at his dawn he rose refresh'd,
                         A South is free, her people blest!
                         Let union Southern join in hand,
                         And peace go leaping thro' the land.
                         Come, millions echo to our cause;
                         See freemen brave, and just the laws;
                         Let shouts above be loudly sent
                         That Northern pride is lowly bent!
                         How dare they glories ever sing,
                         Since we have clipp'd their showy wing?
                         Let not their fleets once resplendent, brave,
                         Dispute our right upon the wave;
                         Nor "armies grand" attempt to reign
                         On blooming clime or foaming main.
                         'Tis Northern pride to oft distress,
                         The weak enslave, the kind oppress;
                         Her soul is where her interests lead;
                         Her heart is just within her head;
                         She who would bind this nation free
                         Deserves the scorn of Liberty!
                         The pen, the mind, are e'er one's own,--
                         Defy the king upon his throne!
                         Let tyrants love themselves and laws,--
                         Their ties for freedom are as straws:
                         Their smile's deceit, the deed is done;
                         The South is free, her battle's won!
                         No foreign foe, nor ruler's chain
                         Shall fetter freedom's land again:

                         Her sons are strong, brave the race;
                         Her march is on and quick her pace;
                         Upwards be her power and name,
                         To top the mounts of grandest fame;
                         And as a giant on she'll stride,
                         Thro'. the realms of glory pride!
                         Be not depress'd by vision true,--
                         Arise, my South, to North adieu!
                         Arise, as suns, resistless rise,
                         And bound along the happy skies:
                         Thy strength and glory, grandeur, state,
                         Shall tower high, make thee great,
                         Yes, science, fortune, genius, fame,
                         Shall carve for thee a deathless name!
                         God form'd the South not for the vile,--
                         He lends it us a little while;
                         'Twas for the brave such as we
                         To live and die in Dixie!
                         This Edon-clime shall e'er remain
                         Thro' countless ages still the same:
                         Here let us meet, commingle free,
                         And drink good health to liberty!
                         Blest land of the South, our fathers' dear home,
                         How proudly thy sons o'er it gladly shall roam;
                         Sweet sphere of the brave, just clime of the true,
                         Thy oceans are grand and skies are of blue:
                         Thy name shall awaken a hope in the breast,
                         Where stranger may come to find him a rest:
                         Dear land of my soul, fair clime of my heart,
                         Great is thy prowess, mighty in art;
                         Arise unto honors, yet to thee unknown,
                         And fortune and splendor be ever thine own:
                         O land of the South, blest home of the free,
                         Fair souls of thy race turn fondly to thee!
                         O'er Europe's borders, in ev'ry sphere,
                         Thy name is sacred, noble, dear;
                         Thy glories prais'd, thy virtues sung
                         By human harps and mellow tongue!
                         All turn to freedom's blissful home,

                         And wish their lot as is our own:
                         Here, civil rights, religious laws,
                         Exemption from intestine wars,
                         Produce a charm, create a joy,
                         Free from any base alloy!
                         Here, man is monarch, no royal line
                         Shall laud it o'er the hapless mind:
                         What nobler clime possess'd by man?
                         Where claims so great as sunny land!
                         For self, O mortal, see, look 'round;
                         Survey thy wealth, and classic ground!
                         What grandeur, moral, beauty state!
                         How happy thou, and people's fate!
                         What brilliant past, what future fair!
                         What glory 'll hang around it there!
                         A present too that richness lend
                         A charm beyond the poet's pen!
                         Land of the South where free-men dwell,--
                         Where, in whose cause, her children fell,--
                         Gaze, heroes, on thy grand domains,--
                         See objects fit for Homer's strains!
                         View verdant valleys, bubbling streams;
                         Rolling oceans, western scenes;
                         Bold mountains stretch, and flow'ry vales:
                         Cooling breezes, scented gales;
                         And cities great in science, art;
                         Commerce trading, learning, mart;
                         See millions smiling fertile plain;
                         Harvest stor'd, golden grain;
                         Whilst starry banners yet shall float
                         On ev'ry water, stream of note.
                         Turn to her hist'ry, battles, shield;
                         Glories won on bloody field;
                         To statesmen, poets, hero, sage;
                         To virgins fair, of blooming age;
                         O who can fail to love his home?
                         Who would forsake, and other own?
                         When by his side, a land so free,--
                         This charming clime of liberty!

                         Here, Nature lends her charms to man;
                         Here, painters, poets, brush and pen,
                         Sketch her scences, give in rhyme,
                         Her richest views, immortal line!
                         No Alpine grandeur, Italian grace,
                         Can surpass her vari'd face!
                         Great rivers gush, or splendid wind
                         Side tow'ring mounts, all clad in vine:
                         What vales so sweet, or climes so fair
                         As blooming Dixie's valleys are!
                         Search ancient worlds for scenery bright,--
                         Let tourists of their grandeur write,--
                         Or laud to skies their glory, fame,--
                         Amidst their mighty lasting name,--
                         Yet in this sphere of free-men brave,
                         Where heroes' deeds triumphant wave,
                         Are splendors from our God above,
                         Shower'd widely in His love!
                         What land where suns so brilliant shine?
                         Where stars so softly rise, decline?
                         Where mounts or moons, or floods or vale,
                         Or hill, or lake, or fount, or cave,
                         Appear to eye wrapped so sublime,
                         As those of sunny Southern clime?
                         Land of the South, thy race is true;
                         Exalted more none ever knew!
                         O woman chaste,--e'er fair and free,--
                         Grand goddess of our Liberty!
                         Thy daughters sweetest, brightest, best,
                         In our charming clime of West:
                         No foreign eye can equal theirs,--
                         No fount of soul of purer tears,--
                         Nor form, nor feature, native grace,--
                         None living of diviner face!
                         O beauty-belles of sunny soil,
                         For thee we live and ever toil!
                         On Blue-ridge mount of winter-snows,
                         Our lassies look like summer-rose;
                         Down deep in Dixie maidens seen

                         Like flow'rets wild on plains of green;
                         In eastern shores or climes of west,--
                         All, all by nature lovely, blest!
                         Thy sons descend from noble sires
                         Who hold great virtues and true fires;
                         Should not they e'er sole masters be
                         And rule this land of Liberty?
                         Yes, let their banners stream on high,--
                         Bold as beacons in the sky;
                         The boast, the pride of earth we stand,--
                         The star of hope is Southern land!
                         Yes, noblest sphere, exempt from guile,--
                         Young Dixie is true Freedom's child!
                         On us are eyes of Northern king,--
                         Yes us, who cropp'd his eagle-wing;
                         The bird who soared within the sky,
                         Is coming down on earth to die!
                         He upwards flew; he made his home
                         Amongst the stars; and proud did roam
                         In lofty air: but constellations burst assunder,--
                         That eagle screams amidst the thunder!
                         Republics rise! then monarchs fall,
                         And with them too their mighty all;
                         Liberty's death to tyrant's rule;
                         No breath is fetter'd in her school;
                         She gives to mortals speech and thought;
                         Free as air her precepts taught!
                         No limb, no action oppress'd by law,
                         Lest justice and injustice war!
                         Well may the despot view with pain
                         The coming grandeur of our name;
                         Guard firm, O Free-men: this jewel shines
                         Tempting in the colder clime!
                         No foreign foe, nor kingly power,
                         O'er this great clime shall ever tower,
                         If heroes' children truthful be
                         To their God and Liberty!
                         Sphere of the brave, earth's richest clime,
                         Onwards, upwards, move thro' time:

                         May on thy seas grand Navies ride,
                         May white-wing'd commerce and blue-tide,
                         Bear off our cotton, corn and wheat,
                         Bring products good from foreign State!
                         Rise, millions, rise,--'tis glorious morn,--
                         Praise in thunders the Nation's dawn!
                         Find, O labor, thy just reward;
                         The humble great as is the lord;
                         Come harvest with thy plenty stores;
                         Come tropic fruits from distant shores;
                         Let art and science unsurpass'd--
                         Let virtue, learning, rival,--yes
                         Reach far beyond the brightest mind
                         Of any other noted clime!
                         Here, sculptor, hew for self a name--
                         Give thy genius deathless fame--
                         Here poets write, and upwards fly--
                         (With crippl'd wing, alas! we try)--
                         And tho' they mount to realms of bliss,
                         We are destined--chain'd to this!
                         My country fears no artist-hand
                         That shall exceed her genius-man;
                         Her merchants rich, they speak with pride;
                         Sound are their names, their honor wide;
                         Her tradesmen true; with honest heart
                         Extend their blessings and their art!
                         Her farmers till the fertile plain--
                         Feed foreign spheres with native grain--
                         They dwell in plenty; millions blest--
                         In this kingdom of the west!
                         Her docks shall throng with countless sail;
                         And from all lands of distance hail;
                         Her schools shall thicken as stars in sky;
                         Her college turrets reach on high;
                         Let public mind receive a share
                         Of learning free and people's care;
                         This gives to nations strength and pride,
                         And swells her streams to mighty tide!
                         The Press untrammell'd! O shed thy ray;

                         It gives us one perpetual day!
                         Its virtue, power, goodness, truth
                         Are felt by age, by manhood, youth.
                         The Press! 'tis our country's boast--
                         'Tis college great for peasant host--
                         Here, all may learn but for a dime,
                         The deeds of home or foreign clime!
                         Ye noble men, who hold the Press,--
                         Let talents shine--thy country bless;
                         Transmit her thus to future time,
                         Enlighten man, improve the mind!
                         Here statesmen rule, commanding great;
                         Be thou fore'er the pride of State!
                         Here orators, patriots, or science, cause,
                         Or such fair vers'd in science, laws;
                         Divines--all men of rank, degree,
                         Stand, nobly stand in unity!
                         Our armies' triumphs brilliant are--
                         Our heroes weapon's brightly glare--
                         Our navy shall resplendent burn--
                         Be glitt'ring as the polished sun!
                         And virtues swell a Nation's breast;
                         High thoughts their souls do deep invest;
                         Morals lofty fill each heart,
                         And a good to all impart.
                         Yes, Southrons scorn to waste their hours--
                         They ever mount the highest towers--
                         And joyous millions here are blest
                         By action constant, free from rest!
                         "Onward, onward, ever on,"
                         In county, city, village, town;
                         This the motto of the free,
                         In our land of liberty.
                         If such the present, what shall it be?
                         What shall the future yet tell of thee?
                         Now glorious, still more glorious, great,
                         Shall be thy name and honored state.
                         Time's ceaseless wheel shall onward roll;
                         Splendors nobler shall yet be told;

                         Thine arts still higher yet shall rise;
                         Thy learning reach fame's utmost skies;
                         Thy virtues, knowledge, science, sense,
                         Thine honors, powers, competence,
                         Thine fortune, commerce, name and trade
                         And all the good that can be said,
                         Shall top the utmost round of fame,
                         And give to thee eternal name!
                         Mighty nation of the brave,
                         E'er may thy banners wave;
                         Thine empire stretch from sea to sea,
                         Thine breath as lasting as eternity!
                         Let ruthless hands ne'er molest
                         The seeds of grandeur in thy breast;
                         Nor tyrant's sceptre ever wave
                         O'er this Eden of the brave!
                         This empire broad, God's choicest gem
                         E'er virtue's wreath be thy diadem.
                         This hallow'd gift, this precious boon,
                         Vouch saf'd by heav'n, by chieftains won;
                         By time more lustrous be thou made
                         Whilst many a land is lowly laid.
                         Columbia! let thy torches brightly blaze;
                         Let tongues of millions give thee praise;
                         Let distant nations turn their eye
                         Towards our warm and genial sky,
                         And, cheer'd by vision, firm declare
                         To breathe alone but freedom's air.
                         Let their vows be made on high,--
                         To do as Dixie, or to die.
                         Yes, snap the chains that fetter mind;
                         Bow but to Him, the All-Divine!
                         My country! ascend ye temples to the stars--
                         Preserve, O God, our cross and bars--
                         Let them onward massive grow,
                         Earth's admiration here below.
                         May they ever grandly tower--
                         Increase in beauty, virtue, power.
                         All eyes are now upon the brave;

                         Tho' tyrants curse, let free-men praise;
                         Monarchs hate, swear on the day
                         When liberty shed its happy ray;
                         Yes, Southrons, guard this native land--
                         Ye children of a christian band.
                         Swear by your heart's most sacred blood--
                         Uphold your country and their word!
                         Let Freedom's tree down deeply root,--
                         May branches green extended shoot,
                         And widely spread their shades around
                         O'er fallen heroes sacred ground!
                         Let Nation's tears bedew the earth,--
                         They fought and fell to give us birth,--
                         May ev'ry heart embalm each name,--
                         Tho' dead, they live in deathless fame!
                         Place, O King, a star on high
                         To shed a lihgt where chieftains lie;
                         A monument of lasting truth
                         Rear'd by God to age and youth!
                         Grow ye grasses round the tomb,
                         There sleep the brave of Nation's doom!
                         Ye stars, ye suns, ye climes above,
                         Watch in thy tender mercy, love!
                         Blow ye zephyrs, scent the air;
                         Strew sweet flowers, maidens fair;
                         Come, millions, come--tread softly round
                         Where heroes rest, tis holy ground!
                         Ye chieftains, warriors, surviving now,
                         Thy South of glory crowns thy brow;
                         Thy laurels green--millions raise
                         United voice and give you praise!
                         Come join the chorus "All are free"
                         In Southern sphere of liberty!
                         By our past of splendid deed,
                         By the hist'ry of our freed;
                         By our present, future fame,
                         Swear to keep our honor'd name!
                         Can our glory e'er be lost
                         If we remember what it cost?

                         By the blood spilt on the field--
                         By the deaths upon the shield--
                         By bold battles on blue wave--
                         By the tracks that glory made--
                         Swear to love thy country best,
                         Hoping for her constant rest!
                         Palsied be the arm and tongue
                         That move to tear our temples down;
                         And dark the soul that hopes to tell
                         Of Freedom's fall or where she fell!
                         Columbia South, thou queen of skies
                         Thou gem of earth to honor rise:
                         Let fairest smiles around thee play,
                         Let genius light thee with its ray;
                         Whilst on thy ramparts banners stream;
                         Below them wave rich fields of green.
                         Be lasting as thine granite-hills;
                         Untarnish'd as thy pearly rills;
                         On rock eternal thou shalt stand,
                         Protected e'er by "Freedom's Band!"
                         No tempest, storm, shall sweep away
                         This blooming spot of Liberty!
                         Whilst God permits the sun to stand
                         Alike shall reign Americ's land;
                         Bold as planets in the sky,
                         As ev'ning shadows gather nigh!
                         Then flourish in immortal youth,
                         Thou land of love, and child of truth!
                         Shout millions, shout--the day is won!
                         'Tis Freedom's dawn, and glory's sun!
                         Boom cannons, boom--and loudly roar
                         In thund'ring praise from sea to shore!
                         Rise chieftain, rise--thou hast claim
                         To honors and immortal name!
                         Sing Virgins, sing--let earth delight
                         In scenes of peace, in truth and might!
                         Sound timbrel, sound--hail Nation free!
                         Our God, our Cross, and Liberty!