"THE BRIGADE MUST NOT KNOW, SIR!" [The first three stanzas of this anonymous poem have reference to the scene of the wounding of Jackson; the last three relate to the burial. The poem is dated 1863.] "Who've ye got there?" "Only a dying brother, Hurt in the front just now.' "Good boy! he'll do. Somebody tell his mother Where he was killed, and how." "Whom have you there?" "A crippled courier, Major, Shot by mistake, we hear; He was with Stonewall." "Cruel work they've made here; Quick with him to the rear!" "Well, who comes next?" "Doctor, speak low, speak low, sir; Don't let the men find out! It's STONEWALL!" "God!" "The brigade must not know, sir, While there is a foe about!" Whom have we here-shrouded in martial manner, A grand dead hero, in a living banner, Born of his heart and arm: The heart whereon his cause hung-see how clingeth That banner to his bier! The arm wherewith his cause struck-hark! how ringeth What have we left? His glorious inspiration, His prayers in council met; Living, he laid the first stones of a nation; And dead, he builds it yet. THE CONFEDERATE FLAG [This poem seems to have appeared first in the Metropolitan Record. Neither its date nor its author is known. Professor A. W. Long, in his 'American Poems, 17761900' (pp. 358-359), compares it interestingly with "The Conquered Banner" by Father Ryan: Although lacking both the passionate and musical qualities of Father Ryan's poem, this anonymous lament has more dignity and restraint; but the feeling is none the less sincere. Both poems, it is to be noted, accept the outcome of the war calmly and regard it as final-accept it without bitterness, but with pride for gallant deeds and sorrow for the dead."] No more o'er human hearts to wave, Its tattered folds forever furled: We laid it in an honored grave, And left its memories to the world. The agony of long, long years, May, in a moment, be compressed, Oh! there are those who die too late For faith in God, and Right, and Truth The cold mechanic grasp of Fate Hath crushed the roses of their youth. More blessed are the dead who fell It hath no future which endears, To mouldering hands that to it clung, To our dead heroes-to the hearts That thrill no more to love or glory, With tears forever be it told, Until oblivion covers all: Until the heavens themselves wear old, A CONFEDERATE NOTE [The authorship of this unique poem is still in doubt. In the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C., there is a Confederate note with these lines inscribed upon it and signed by Miss M. J. Turner of North Carolina. There is no proof, however, that this is the original copy. The authorship has been ascribed also to Mrs. R. E. Lytle of Louisville, Kentucky, and to Major S. A. Jonas of Aberdeen, Mississippi. The probabilities favor the latter. It is to be hoped that the republication of the poem in The Library of Southern Literature' will lead to a new investigation and final settlement of the question of authorship.] Representing nothing on God's earth now, As the pledge of a nation that's dead and gone, Show it to those who will lend an ear, Too poor to possess the precious ores, And hoped to redeem on the morrow. We knew it had hardly a value in gold, Keep it-it tells our history o'er, From the birth of the dream to the last Modest, and born of the angel Hope, Like our hope of success, it passed! DIXIE By DAN D. EMMETT [The origin of the name is still in doubt. Three theories have been proposed. First, that the name is in some way related to the Dixon of Mason and Dixon's Line. Second, that a New Jersey farmer, named Dixie, employed negro labor on his estate which soon became a miniature Southland, the words "Dixie Land" referring at first to his plantation. The third and more probable conjecture relates the name to the famous Citizens' Bank of Louisiana. Twenty years before the Civil War this bank was the great financial institution of the Lower South. Its best known issue was a ten dollar note with the French word "Dix" engraved upon it. These bills were termed "Dixies," and, as they were known in all the States, people began to speak of the South as Dixie's Land or Dixie Land. Whatever the origin of the name, the song spread from New Orleans through the South, just as "John Brown's Body" spread from Boston through the North. The words were written by Mr. Dan D. Emmett for Bryant's Minstrels in 1859. The "walk-around" was popular in New York but did not become the Marseillaise of the South until it was sung by Mrs. John Wood in the fall of 1860 in New Orleans. The following is the original version of Emmett.] I wish I was in de land ob cotton, Old times dar am not forgotten, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land, Early on one frosty mornin', Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land, CHORUS: Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray, hooray, In Dixie land I'll take my stand To lib an' die in Dixie, Away, away, away down South in Dixie. Away, away, away down South in Dixie. Ole missus marry Will-de-weaber, William was a gay deceaber, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber, [CHORUS.] [CHORUS.] Dere's buckwheat cakes and Injun batter, Makes you fat or a little fatter, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. To Dixie land I'm bound to trabble, [Mrs. Downing was born in Virginia in 1835 and died in 1894. She was the author of many poems, "Dixie" being the best known.] Created by a nation's glee, With jest and song and revelry, We sang it in our early pride Throughout our Southern borders wide; "To live or die for Dixie!" How well that promise was redeemed Is witnessed by each field where gleamed, The banner of the Cross and Stars; To die for Dixie! Oh, how blessed But deemed the cause they fought for sure As heaven itself; and so laid down To live for Dixie! Harder part! |