Oh! daughter of the South! No victor's crown be thine; Not thine, upon the tented field, In martial pomp to shine; But, with unfaltering trust In Him who rules on high, To deck thy loved ones for the fray, And send them forth to die. With wildly throbbing heart-- With faint and trembling breath-- The maiden speeds her lover on, To victory or death; Forth from caressing arms, The mother sends her son, And bids him nobly battle on, Till the last field is won. While she, the tried, the true, The loving wife of years, Chokes down the rising agony, Drives back the starting tears: "I yield thee up," she cries, "In the country's cause to fight; Strike for our own, our children's home, And God defend the right." Oh! daughter of the South, When our fair land is free, When peace her lovely mantle throws Softly o'er land and sea, History shall tell, how thou Hast nobly borne thy part, And won the proudest triumphs yet-- The victories of the heart. SEVENTY-SIX AND SIXTY-ONE. BY JOHN W. OVERALL. Ye spirits of the glorious dead! Ye watchers in the sky! Who sought the patriot's crimson bed, With holy trust and high-- Come, lend your inspiration now, Come, fire each Southern son, Who nobly fights for freemen's rights, And shouts for sixty-one. Come, teach them how on hill, on glade, Quick leaping from your side, The lightning flash of sabers made A red and flowing tide; How well ye fought, how bravely fell, Beneath our burning sun, And let the lyre, in strains of fire, So speak of sixty-one. There's many a grave in all the land, And many a crucifix, Which tells how that heroic band Stood firm in seventy-six-- Ye heroes of the deathless past, Your glorious race is run, But from your dust springs freemen's trust, And blows for sixty-one. We build our altars where you lie, On many a verdant sod, With sabers pointing to the sky, And sanctified of God; The smoke shall rise from every pile, Till Freedom's cause is won, And every mouth throughout the South Shall shout for sixty-one! KENTUCKY. BY ESTELLE. "Just send for us Kentucky boys, And we'll protect you, ladies."--_Old Song._ Then, leave us not, Kentucky boys, Though thick upon thy border, The vulture flaps his restless wing, And scowls the dark marauder. Kentucky blood is just as proud, Kentucky powder ready, Kentucky hearts are just as brave, Kentucky nerve as steady, As when the flag we once revered, Unfolded o'er her proudly, And for the South, Kentucky's voice, Undaunted, echoed loudly. The lion-hearted hero then, Who led that gallant number, Must surely feel a sad unrest Disturb his death-cold slumber. And one whose sire, on history's page, Is blent in proudest story, Fell on a Southern field, and bathed His dying brow in glory.