Should the God who rules above thee Doom thee to a soldier's grave, Hearts will break, but fame will love thee Canonized among the brave! Listen, then, thy country's calling On her sons to meet the foe! Rather would I view thee lying On the last red field of life, 'Mid thy country's heroes dying, Than to be a dastard's wife. SUMTER; A BALLAD OF 1861. BY E. O. MURDEN. 'Twas on the twelfth of April, Before the break of day, We heard the guns of Moultrie Give signal for the fray. Anon across the waters There boomed the answering gun, From North and South came flash on flash-- The battle had begun. The mortars belched their deadly food, And spiteful whizzed the balls, A fearful storm of iron hailed On Sumter's doomed walls. We watched the meteor flight of shell, And saw the lightning flash; Saw where each fiery missile fell, And heard the sullen crash. The morn was dark and cloudy, Yet, till the sun arose, No answer to our gallant boys Came booming from our foes. Then through the dark and murky clouds The morning sunlight came, And forth from Sumter's frowning walls Burst sudden sheets of flame. The shot and shell flew thick and fast, The war-dogs howling spoke, And thundering came their angry roar, Through wreathing clouds of smoke. Again to fight for liberty, Our gallant sons had come, They smiled when came the bugle call, And laughed when tapped the drum. From cotton- and from corn-field, From desk and forum too, From work-bench and from anvil, came Our gallant boys and true. A hireling band had come to awe, Our chains to rivet fast; Yon lofty pile scowls on our homes, Seaward the hostile mast. But gallant freemen man our guns-- No mercenary host, Who barter for their honor's price, And of their baseness boast. Now came our stately matrons, And maidens too by scores; Oh! Carolina's beauty shone Like love-lights on her shores. See yonder, anxious gazing, Alone a matron stands, The tear-drop glistening on each lid, And tightly clasped her hands. For there, exposed to deadly fire, Her husband and her son-- "Father," she spake, and heavenward looked, "Father, thy will be done." See yonder group of maidens, No joyous laughter now, For cares lie heavy on each heart And cloud each anxious brow: For brothers dear, and lovers fond, Are there amid the strife; Tearful the sister's anxious gaze-- Pallid the promised wife. Yet breathed no heart one thought of fear, Prompt at their country's call, They yielded forth their dearest hopes, And gave to honor all! Now comes a message from below-- Oh quick the tidings tell-- "At Moultrie and Fort Johnson, too, And Morris, all are well!"