AT THE SURRENDER OF FORT SUMTER,
UNFURL our banner, upon the ramparts high!
Where Columbia's foes may descry it;
The "Stars and the Stripes" we now swear to defend,
Though they in perfidy defy it:
The shouts of the rebels may fall on our ears,
The cannon their thunder may rattle,
But, while God is with us, its stars still shall shine,
In triumph throughout every battle!
Its bright folds shall be, o'er land and o'er sea,
By us e'er sustained and defended;
The balls of the rebels must pierce our true hearts,
Ere the Flag of Fort Sumter is rended!
Unfurl our banner, upon the ramparts high!
Though hunger and thirst may torment us;
The vile foe may threaten, but we still shall hope,
That relief will e'er long be sent us:
We ask not the comforts, nor pleasures of home,
Our lives to our country we tender,
So long as we have but the strength to contend,
Our Flag we will never surrender!
Its bright folds shall be, o'er land and o'er sea,
By us e'er sustained and defended;
The balls of the rebels must pierce our true hearts,
Ere the Flag of Fort Sumter is rended!
Unfurl our Banner, upon the ramparts high!
The base traitors' guns thunder 'round us,
The balls crush our wall-the shells burst in air-
And with fierce destruction surround us!
See !-see! in our midst, 'mid the terrors of strife,
New horrors of war gleam before us,
The Fort is on fire;-the magazine explodes!—
Still our Flag in triumph waves o'er us.
Its bright folds shall be o'er land and o’er sea,
By us e'er sustained and defended;
The balls of the rebels must pierce our true hearts,
E re the Flag of Fort Sumter is rended!
Unfurl our Banner, upon the ramparts high;
We swear that no hand e'er shall humble
The Flag of our Country, by hauling it down,
Though Sumter in ruins may crumble!
Oh! see, comrades, see, our oath is made good,
God speaks-tho' our sad hearts are grieving,—
A chance ball has stricken our Flag to the earth,
Secure it!-we will take it on leaving!
Its bright folds shall be o'er land and o'er sea,
By us e'er sustained and defended;
The balls of the Rebels must pierce our true hearts,.
E re the Flag of Fort Sumter is rended!
FIRST CALL FOR SEVENTY-FIVE THOUSAND VOLUNTEERS.
"TO ARMS!—to arms!"-the call resounds,
In startling tones throughout the land,
In grief, sweet Peace lays down the scythe,
To grasp again War's bloody hand!
Where once our Flag in glory waved,
Dark battle-clouds bedim the sky;
Oh! ye, who would have freedom live,
For her, must now prepare to die!
"To arms !—to arms!"-the sound prolong,
'Till it resounds from shore to shore;
Haste all, who would have freedom live,
And grasp the sword, till strife is o'er!
"To arms!-to arms !"-oh! gentle Peace,
Shall we no more thy pleasures know,
When still'd shall be all sounds of strife,
And brothers' blood no longer flow?
No! not till we the rebels crush,
And, "Union as it was," restore,
Shall we invoke thy smile sweet Peace,
Or lay aside the blade of war!
"To arms!-to arms !"-the sound prolong,
'Till it resounds from shore to shore;
Haste all, who would have freedom live,
And grasp the sword, till strife is o'er!
THE MARCH OF THE 1ST REGIMENT FOR WASHINGTON,
APRIL 17TH, '61.
Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands,
And of armed men the hum-
Lo! a nation's hosts have gather'd
'Round the quick alarming drum,
Saying, "Come,
Ere your heritage be wasted!"
Said the quick alarming drum.
"Let me of my heart take counsel-
War is not of life the sum;
Who shall stay and reap the harvest
When the autumn days shall come?'
But the drum
Death shall reap the braver harvest!"
Said the solemn sounding drum.
"But when won the coming battle,
What of profit springs therefrom?
What if conquest, subjugation,
Even greater ills become?"
But the drum
Answered, "Come!
You must do the sum to prove it!"
Said the Union answering drum.
"What if'mid the cannons' thunder,
Whistling shot and bursting bomb,
When my brothers fall around me,
Should my heart grow cold and numb?”
But the drum
Answered, "Come!
Better there in death united,
Than in life a recreant! Come!"
Thus they answered-hoping, fearing-
Some in faith, and doubting some-
"Till a trumpet voice, proclaiming,
Said, "My chosen people, come!"
Then the drum,
For the great heart of the nation,
Throbbing answered, "Lord, we come!".
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE WORK AT HARPER'S FERRY, APRIL 19th, '61.
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms:
But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villagers with strange alarms.
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