Crooning ancient ballads, Rocking to and fro, In your sage divining, Say where these shall go? Jaunty set of stockings, Neat from top to toe, March they with the victor? Lie with vanquished low? Knitting for the soldiers! Matron--merry maid, Many and many a blessing, Many a prayer is said, While the glittering needles Fly "around! around!" Like to Macbeth's witches On enchanted ground. [Illustration: "Knitting for the soldiers Wrinkled--aged crone."] Knitting for the soldiers Still another pair! And the feet that wear them Speed thee onward--where? To the silent city, On their trackless way? Homeward--bearing garlands? Who of us shall say? [Illustration: "Knitting for the soldiers! Matron--merry maid."] Knitting for the soldiers! Heaven bless them all! Those who win the battle, Those who fighting fall. Might our benedictions Speedily win reply, Early would they crown ye All with victory. NORFOLK, VA., October 8, 1861. PATRIOTIC SONG. By DR. JOHN W. PAINE, Lexington, Va., June 30, 1862. _Air--"Gathering of the Clans."_ Rise, rise, mountain and valley men, Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order, True loyal patriots, muster and rally, men; Drive the invader clear over the border; Down from the mountain steep, up from the valley deep, Come from the city, the town, and the village, Let every loyal heart in the strife take a part, Rescue our country from rapine and pillage. Rise, rise, etc. Men of the valley, descendants of heroes-- Heroes whom Washington honored and trusted-- Heirs of the fame and the hills of your fathers, Men who have never been daunted or worsted; Long, like all true men, we cherished the Union, Long did we strive for our country's salvation; Now when our very existence is threatened, Rush to the rescue without hesitation. Rise, rise, etc. Say, shall we suffer the ruthless invader O'er our fair valley to marshal his legions? Loud calls Virginia, let every man aid her-- Aid her, and thus show his truth and allegiance. Hark to the battle-cry, rush on to victory! Banished forever be party and faction; Let every loyal man rush to be in the van, Led by the dauntless, the conqueror, Jackson. Rise, rise, etc. --_Richmond Dispatch._ OUR BRAVES IN VIRGINIA. _Air--"Dixie Land."_ We have ridden from the brave Southwest, On fiery steeds, with throbbing breast; Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! With sabre flash and rifle true,-- Hurrah! hurrah!-- The Northern ranks we will cut through, And charge for old Virginia, boys; Hurrah! hurrah!