Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena- The tie that linked my soul with thee. It matters little now, Lorena, Of life this is so small a part— But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart. MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME By STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER [No collection of poems reflecting Southern life and sentiment would be complete without at least one selection from Stephen Collins Foster. He was born in Lawrenceburg, now a part of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, July 4, 1826, and died January 13, 1864. "My Old Kentucky Home," "Old Folks at Home" (or "Swanee River"), "Old Black Joe," and "Massa's in de Cold, Cold Ground" are treasured in the memory and sung by thousands in the South who know nothing of the author. A handsome monument has been erected to Mr. Foster in Louisville, Kentucky.] The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home; The corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom, The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright; By-'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door :- Weep no more, my lady, O, weep no more to-day! We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, They hunt no more for the possum and the coon, The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow, where all was delight; The time has come when the darkies have to part:- O, weep no more to-day! We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, The head must bow, and the back will have to bend, A few more days, and the trouble all will end, A few more days for to tote the weary load, A few more days till we totter on the road:- O, weep no more to-day! We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, MORGAN'S WAR SONG By LIEUTENANT-COLONEL BASIL W. DUKE Ye sons of the South take your weapons in hand, Arise, arise and arm! Let the hand of each freeman grasp the sword to maintain Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree See ye not those strange clouds which now darken the sky? To your country devote every life that she gave Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree From our far Southern shores now arises a prayer 'Tis the cry of our women fills with anguish the air, Oh! list that pleading voice! Each youth now make his choice! Now tamely submit like the coward and slave Or rise and resist like the free and the brave, Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree Though their plunder-paid hordes come to ravage our land, To face the hireling foe! Give the robber to know that we never will yield. Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree On our hearts, and our cause, and our God we rely, Form, form the serried line! Advance our proved ensign! What our fathers achieved, our own valor can keep, Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree Kentucky, Kentucky, can you suffer the sight Oh, break the tyrant's chain! Draw the sword you once drew but to strike for the right From the homes of your fathers drive the dastards in flight, Gather fast neath our flag, for 'tis God's own decree That its folds shall still float o'er a land that is free. NEWES FROM VIRGINIA By RICHARD RICH [This poem was published in England, in 1610, under the title of "Newes from Virginia: The Lost Flocke Triumphant, with the Happy Arrival of that Famous and Worthy Knight, Sir Thomas Gates, and the Well Reputed and Valiant Captaine, Mr. Christopher Newporte, and Others, into England." The original is in the Huth Library, London, and is adorned with the woodcut of a ship.] It is no idle fabulous tale, nor is it fayned newes: For Truth herself is heere arriv'd, because you should not muse. With her both Gates and Newport come, to tell Report doth lye, Which did divulge unto the world that they at sea did dye. Tis true that eleaven months and more, these gallant worthy wights Were in the shippe Sea-venture nam'd depriv'd Virginia's sight. And bravely did they glide the maine, till Neptune gan to frowne, As if à courser prowdly backt would throwe his ryder downe. The seas did rage, the windes did blowe, distressed were they then Their ship did leake, her tacklings breake, in danger were her men. But heaven was pylotte in that storme, and to an iland nere, Bermoothawes call'd, conducted them, which did abate their feare. But yet these worthies forced were, opprest with weather againe, To runne their ship betweene two rockes, where she doth still remaine. And then on shore the iland came, inhabited by hogges, Some foule and tortoyses there were, they only had one dogge. To kill these swyne, to yield them foode that little had to eate, Their store was spent, and all things scant, alas! they wanted meate. A thousand hogges that dogge did kill, their hunger to sustaine, And with such foode did in that ile two and forty weekes remaine. And there two gallant pynases did build of seader-tree; The brave Deliverance one was call'd, of seaventy tonne was shee. The other Patience had to name, her burthen thirty tonne; Two only of their men which there pale death did overcome. And for the losse of these two soules, which were accounted deere, A sonne and daughter then were borne, and were baptized there. The two and forty weekes being past, they hoyst sayle and away; Their ships with hogs well freighted were, their harts with mickle joy. And so unto Virginia came, where these brave soldiers finde The English-men opprest with griefe and discontent in minde. They seem'd distracted and forlorne, for those two worthyes losse, Yet at their home returne they joyd, among'st them some were crosse. And in the mid'st of discontent came noble Delaware; care. He comforts them and cheres their hearts, that they abound with joy; He feedes them full and feedes their soules with God's word every day. A discreet counsell he creates of men of worthy fame, That noble Gates leiftenant was the admirall had to name. |
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