Fell, overcome by savage foes, Yet still their rage defying; "_These_, give my father," cried the son, "And tell him how I'm dying." But now that flag is vilely stained, Its sacred rights invaded-- Wrong and dishonor wield the staff; Its glory's sadly shaded. And when we would its dying spark Snatch from the blackening ashes, And worship once again its light, As through the world it flashes, Kentucky leans upon her arms, And coldly looks about her, Till hirelings, at her very door, Dare threaten, and to flout her. Desert us now, Kentucky boys, And on the future dawning, Thy faded glory scarce will streak The first gray light of morning. Heed not the starveling crew, who hang Upon the blue Ohio, A craven heart each traitor bears, And dare not venture nigher. And should they--know ye not the blood Within our full hearts beaming?-- At once ten thousand scabbards fly, Ten thousand blades are gleaming! Then, waken from thy nerveless sleep, Gird on thy well-tried armor, And soon the braggart North will feel That Right has strength to harm her. Kentucky boys and girls have we-- From us ye may not take them; Sad-hearted will ye give them up, And for the foe forsake them? Oh, Tennessee, twin-sister, grieves, To take thy hand at parting, And feel that from its farewell grasp A brother's blood is starting. It must not be! Kentucky, come! Virginia loudly calls thee; And Maryland defenseless stands, To share what fate befalls thee. Come ere the tyrant's chain is forged, From out the war-cloud looming; Come ere thy palsied knee is bent, To hopeless ruin dooming. A POEM WHICH NEEDS NO DEDICATION. BY JAMES BARRON HOPE. What! you hold yourselves as freemen? Tyrants love just such as ye! Go! abate your lofty manner! Write upon the State's old banner, "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!" Sink before the Federal altars, Each one, low on bended knee; Pray, with lips that sob and falter, This prayer from a coward's Psalter: "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!" But you hold that quick repentance In the Northern mind will be; This repentance comes no sooner Than the robber's did at Luna.[16] "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!" He repented him; the Bishop Gave him absolution free-- Poured upon him sacred chrism In the pomp of his baptism "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!" He repented; then, he sickened-- Was he pining for the sea? In extremis he was shriven, The Viaticum was given; "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!" Then the old cathedral's choir Took the plaintive minor key, With the Host upraised before him, Down the marble aisle they bore him, "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, O Domine!"