Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side! Ho, dwellers in the vales! Ho, ye who by the chafing tide Have roughened in the gales! Leave barn and byre, leave kin and cot, Lay by the bloodless spade; Let desk and case and counter rot, And burn your books of trade! The despot roves your fairest lands; And till he flies or fears, Your fields must grow but armèd bands, Your sheaves be sheaves of spears! Give up to mildew and to rust The useless tools of gain, And feed your country's sacred dust With floods of crimson rain! Come with the weapons at your call-- With musket, pike, or knife; He wields the deadliest blade of all Who lightest holds his life. The arm that drives its unbought blows With all a patriot's scorn, Might brain a tyrant with a rose Or stab him with a thorn. Does any falter? Let him turn To some brave maiden's eyes, And catch the holy fires that burn In those sublunar skies. Oh, could you like your women feel, And in their spirit march, A day might see your lines of steel Beneath the victor's arch! What hope, O God! would not grow warm When thoughts like these give cheer? The lily calmly braves the storm, And shall the palm-tree fear? No! rather let its branches court The rack that sweeps the plain; And from the lily's regal port Learn how to breast the strain. Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side Ho, dwellers in the vales! Ho, ye who by the roaring tide Have roughened in the gales! Come, flocking gayly to the fight, From forest, hill, and lake; We battle for our country's right, And for the lily's sake! [Southern.] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE BANNER OF THE STARS. BY R. W. RAYMOND. Hurrah! boys, hurrah! fling our banner to the breeze! Let the enemies of freedom see its folds again unfurled. And down with the pirates that scorn upon the seas Our victorious Yankee banner, sign of Freedom to the World! _Chorus._--We'll never have a new flag, for ours is the true flag, The true flag, the true flag, the Red, White, and Blue flag, Hurrah! boys, hurrah! we will carry to the wars, The old flag, the free flag, the Banner of the Stars. And what tho' its white shall be crimsoned with our blood? And what tho' its stripes shall be shredded in the storms? To the torn flag, the worn flag, we'll keep our promise good, And we'll bear the starry blue field, with gallant hearts and arms. --_Chorus._ Then, cursed be he who would strike our Starry Flag! May the God of Hosts be with us, as we smite the traitor down! And cursed be he who would hesitate or lag, Till the dear flag, the fair flag, with Victory we crown.