A galaxy of southern heroes, and other poems

Front matter

ClassJlxl-3. fmiyriglifF IHQ5

COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV

THE STARS AND BARS

Preface

WHEN ten years ago I yielded to the importuningfs of my children and some of my personal friends to publish a collection of my rhymes, it was with no expectation or desire to attract any great interest of the public to myself or to my efforts in versification, for I have never aspired to literary distinction, nor to poetic notoriety. Whatever attempts I have made in this line have been, for the most part, to while away some leisure moments, or to comply with some friendly request ; or else to eulogize our Confederate heroes, whose unequaled glory has always been to me a theme of inspiration, and has impelled me to attempt in poetic lines to give vent to those sentiments and emotions which, welling up in my heart, seemed too sacred for common prose to express. And it is more to the worthiness of that theme in this particular than to any merit of my verses that I ascribe the quick disposal of the first and second editions of my unpretentious volume, and my chief incentive now in presenting this later compilation of my effusions is but a desire to gratify the oft repeated requests of many of my friends and old comrades of the Confederacy. Neither claiming nor asking any credit for my feeble efforts in these pages, I only consent to put them forth for the reasons just stated, and to gratify my own desire that it be accepted and regarded by all as my humble tribute to the sacred memory of Southern heroes who contended so valiantly, but in vain, for the upholding of the Cause so just, but so unfortunate in its lamentable fall, and for whom my humble muse has so often attempted to soar in songs of praise.

ORION T. DOZIER.

Dedication

nrO THE '•United Sons" and "United Daughters of the ^ Confederacy," scions of the most noble, chivalrous, brave, and heroic exemplars of soldierly and loyal patriotism — the most faithful adherents to their God-given instincts of racial superiority, and fidelity to their Caucasian blood — scions of the Statesmen, Heroes, and Soldiers of the South, upon whom must devolve the sacred duty to themselves, their progenitors, their country, and their God, of defending the facts, shielding the justness, and of combating the falsehoods and calumnies concerning that Cause which their noble sires so valiantly struggled to defend, or died to maintain :

I dedicate this little volume, trusting only that my sentiments in verse pertaining to our Sunny South and Southern Dead, though but feebly expressed, may help to inspire them with continued courage to proclaim to the world that their fathers' cause is not dead, that only the dust of its defenders is confined to the tomb, that the spirit of freedom, and of justice, still survives in the hearts of their descendants, and like "Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again,"

THE AUTHOR.

Contents

Page vFor Freedom Float the Flag-s I I^ove 17

V A Sig^h for the Sea 30

Don 't Forget Your Poor Old Mother 32

I. Once more the genial Southern sun

Has called the roses into bloom, Once more the fragrant jessamine

Lades all the air with sweet perfume ; Once more the little mating birds

In every bush and tree are seen, Once more the earth her carpet spreads

Of softest velvet-grassy green.

II. Once more the dove of peace is heard

In every valley, glen and cove ; Once more I come with rapturous heart

To greet the comrades that I love ; And freed from hate and prejudice,

All bitter memories laid aside.

My muse but wakes to sing the praise

Of those who for my country died.

III. And anon, here and there to lay

A chaplet on some worthy brow Of glorious hero — yet alive —

And, as I place it, humbly bow, As well I should, with reverence due ;

For language is too weak to prove How deep, how strong the wond'rous depths

Of my unfathomed founts of love.

IV. But would to God my struggling muse

Could break the bonds that bind my soul, And let my wild, impassioned thoughts

Like ocean's stormy billows roll. While I so vainly now attempt

To sing in lofty peans grand That meed of praise to patriots due —

The heroes of my native land.

V. With Heaven's face for music scroll

And realms of space for octave bars. My clefs should be the sun and moon.

My music notes the blazing stars. And oh ! I 'd sing with lofty strain

And sweep the gamut of the skies, 'Till every sleeping patriot's soul

Should wake and from his grave arise !

VI. But oh! how feeble, weak am I

Poor, humble creature of the sod. Who deigns to touch a theme too grand

For any being but that God Who rules the earth and realms above.

Who speaks, and suns and worlds obey : He, only He, the living God

Their meed of praise can ever pay.

AND OTHER POEMS.

VII. What tho' I had the cyclone's force

The flaming lightning for my tongue, A brain as broad as universe,

My voice to tones of thunder strung, I still must fall unmeasured short

In praise of those I fain would name. For God but made such God-like men

To point the source from whence they came.

VIII. How many names — bright, glorious gems

In Southern galaxy are set.

To blaze like suns forever bright

In fame's eternal coronet.

Behold you, first, our Washington,

Whose hands the stars and stripes unfurled, A Christian soldier, patriot true,

The foremost rebel of the world.

IX. Then see yon brilliant, fiery star

Proud Robert Toombs — majestic man. With wild, tempestuous, flaming soul,

Too great for human words to span, From out whose rugged, heaving breast.

In raging, seething tempests, rolled Consuming flames of eloquence —

Mount JEtnsiy he, of human mold.

X. And could I paint with master hand

The great Orion of the sky, With starry belt and lifted club,

With daring mien to do or die, What would I do but hold to view

The chief of that heroic clan Who San Jacinto's battle won.

And name Sam Houston as the man.

XI. But countless as the countless stars

That in the dome of heaven shine, Each name as bright as face of Mars,

Made glorious by their deeds sublime, And bright' ning with the^passing years

Is that great constellation grand Who followed where our Davis led —

The heroes of our Southern land.

XII. No low'ring cloud of dark defeat

Can dim or shut their light from view. But high above the horizon,

Where God to justice gives its due. They shine within a firmament

As fixed as that of heaven's own, And shed a glory on the world.

The brightest earth has ever known.

AND OTHER POEMS.

XIII. Go look upon Manassas' plains

Where Bull Run ever onward flows, No monument is needed there

Our^soldier's valor to disclose ; Eternal as that flowing stream

Will rest the fame of him who fell. Brave, gallant Bartow leading on,

While earth first shook with rebel yell.

XIV. And when will history cease to tell

Of Shiloh's dark and bloody ground ? Not whilst the stars in heaven shine

And suns shall rise and worlds go round, For every patriot of the earth

Who lights his soul with hopes of fame Will think of Shiloh and with pride

XV. Then turn your gaze on Kenesaw

With rugged domes uplifted high, See there that altar built by God

As fitting place for him to die Who cast aside his priestly robes

For sword and belt and suit of gray — Brave, glorious Polk, the soldier-priest.

Whose name shall live through endless day.

A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROKS XVI.

Now fain would I if I but could

Snatch from yon sunset's oriflame Its golden glories to illume

My trembling lips that breathe the name Of him who died on gallows tree :

Sam Davis, glorious martyred youth Who spurned the proffered bribe of life

To die for country and for truth.

XVII. And could my muse on soaring wing

Mount up to yon celestial height Of star bespangled heavenly dome

And pluck from out the Crown of Night Its brightest gems and diadems

And with God's aid transmute each flame To thoughts that blaze and words that burn

r d weave a wreath and put to shame

XVIII. The grandest eulogy of praise

That poet's pen or mortal's tongue To woman fair has ever paid,

And every thought with jewels hung Should be a royal, glittering gem

Of radiance bright and beauty rare To crown the patriotic brow

Of our Southern women fair.

AND OTHER POKMS.

XIX. But not for me their praise to sing

Tho' Heaven I know, however sweet, Without their every presence there

Must in its bliss be incomplete; Then let some nobler tongue than mine

The glorious, loving task essay ; r 11 simply pray, God bless them all !

And sing of those who wore the gray.

XX. For like the herald of the morn

And heaven's own intermingling dyes. So but the thought of those who died

For that Lost Cause, so just and right, Awakes my soul with glowing love

And heavenly inspirations bright.

XXI Then give to me, O God, I crave

The power that never yet expressed Those thoughts that well within my soul

And surge within my heaving breast. That I may reach a glorious height

In epic strain and words sublime To weave an amaranthine wreath

As fadeless as eternal time

A GALAXY OF SOUTHKRN HEROKS

XXII. To lay upon the hallowed shrine

Of those for whom we mourn to-day, The noblest of heroic braves

That ever went to battle fray And shed their blood on freedom's field,

Disdaining life and glad to die Rather than their rights to yield,

And now at home with God on high.

XXIII. What tho' no stone shall mark their graves

Nor sentry guard their place of rest, They sleep within their humble graves,

Serenely sweet with glory blessed ; Whilst on each mountain, vale and plain

Where raged the storm of battle's flame They' ve left an everlasting print

That marks them with their deathless fame.

XXIV. Go stand upon the Cumberland

Go view the heights of Tennessee, Go climb to Lookout's lofty point

And gaze as far as eye can see ; On every crag and every plain,

Marked by the storm of battle blast. The name of Bragg is over all,

To linger there while time shall last.

AND OTHER POEMS.

XXV. And hear you there the distant boom

And feel you there the vibrant jar Of quaking earth beneath the roar

Of thunder- crashing guns of war, Let loose by that young demigod —

That re-incarnate soul of Jove, Born but to reign 'mid battle storm,

The kingly Pelham, gods might love.

XXVI. And lo ! above each mountain pass

Each hill and vale, each cove and glen, A glorious halo lingers yet,

Where, meteor-like, that prince of men, In brilliant speed and splendor swept

Athwart the flames on battle crest — Pat Cleburne with his flashing blade.

The blazing comet of the West.

XXVII. Then look on yon great ocean wide

Extending far as billows sweep.

Cut by the Alabama's keel —

See there a name engraven deep.

Eternal and as lasting there

-\s Neptune's star in yonder sky — Brave Admiral Semmes, a hero grand,

Whose name and fame can never die.

XXVIII. And yet, oh yet, with rapturous eyes

To Cuban Isle but turn your gaze. See where oppression long has reigned

A rising star, destined to blaze Eternal on Old Glory, dear.

Joe Wheeler, great in peace and war, Has plucked from out the Antilles

For freedom's flag another star.

XXIX. And when storm- rocked Atlanta shook

And writhed beneath the shrieking shell, When tempests wild around her raged.

And leaden hail in fury fell, When lightning flashed and thunders rolled

And flowed her streets with crimson flood. Who then stood there — bright star of hope —

But brave, defiant Ajax-Hood ?

XXX. And o'er yon Old Dominion State

Star gemmed, her crown with glory shines, With Southern pride I here avow

That nowhere on this earth's confines Can there be found another land

Which can so many heroes claim, And bright amid her brightest stars

Shines glorious Stonewall Jackson's name.

XXXI. And glittering like a royal gem

Above my own fair Georgia high, I see another brilliant star,

As bright as ever decked the sky, Intrepid, brilliant Gordon, brave.

The patriot, statesman, warrior grand. Of Southern manhood, brightest type.

An honor to his native land.

XXXII. Nor less resplendent is the light

Of him, old South Carolina's star. Whose fiery soul was made by God

To blaze amid the storms of war; And high on fame's eternal height.

With all the glorious and sublime, Wade Hampton's name, in glory set,

Will shine while roll the wheels of time.

XXXIII. Now see yon grand, majestic stream

The great mid-continental sea.

Whose course no human force can check.

With currents deep yet flowing free. Unswerving in its onward sweep.

Proud Mississippi, king of streams, See, and behold while gazing there

A fitting type to me it seems

12 A GAI.AXY OF SOUTHERN H^ROKS

XXXIV. Of him whose grand and kingly soul

Too strong for tyrant bonds to quell, Too deep for prejudice to mar,

Too broad to curb by prison cell — Proud, God-like man, I breath his name

With reverence and with deathless love — Jeff Davis, brightest star of fame,

May heaven rest his soul above.

XXXV

- But where, oh ! where, my wavering muse,

Where wilt thou lead me in thy flight To find a type or simile

Of him, the grandest, noblest knight That ever sword from scabbard drew?

Not in the land Columbus gave Canst thou a likeness for him find ;

Then seek beyond old ocean's wave

XXXVI. Where God His grandest works designed

Go view the Alps and Pyrenees, Then onward to the Himalays,

Where great Mount Everest, rising, sees All other mountains far below,

His own grand form enrobed with cloud. His royal head God crowned with snow —

Yes, go and view this mountain proud —

AND OTHBR POKMS. 13

XXXVII. This great, majestic, towering king

The grandest, highest of the world — God's monument of strength and power,

Defying every storm that's hurled. All lightning blows from rival foes ;

Yes, go and you this mountain see, Then tell me if thou yet hast found

A prototype of Robert Lee!

Xxxviii

Ah, no ! ah, no ! my faithful muse.

Thou further yet must wing thy flight. Go mount yon Heaven's vaulted dome.

Explore the '* azure seas of night " ; Go poise amid the glittering throng

Of starry pageants in the sky.

And measure thou great Alcyone,

The central sun of worlds on high,

XXXIX. 'Round whom all suns and worlds revolve

The first, the greatest and the best Of all the shining heavenly spheres —

And, poising there, thy wings may rest ; For in that far celestial zone.

There 'mid the circling pleiades see That king of worlds, imperial orb,

God's prototype of Robert Lee.

XL. And now, oh ! now, my halting muse

While poising 'mid celestial heights Of blazing suns and mighty worlds,

Of shining moons and satellites, I bid thee, if thou canst, to pluck

From orbs on high, celestial fire And fling it down into my soul.

That it may warm me and inspire

XLI. My soul to higher, loftier strain

Than ever bard hath dared to sing. For meed of praise to privates due

Should make the very welkin ring And call angelic convoys down

From Heaven's bright, supernal sphere, To catch the strain and tune their harps

To notes that they would gladly hear.

XLII. What tho' no circumstance or pomp

Hath written down each separate name — What tho' no granite column tells

The individual private's fame — What tho' on earth there 's no reward

For all their suffering, toil and strife — Their names, thank God, in realms on high

Are written in the "Book of Life."

XLIII. Yes, tho' unmarked and hardly known

Almost obscure and hid from view, Theirs is a glory, none the less,

As bright as ever Heaven knew.

Yea, like the rolling, shining orbs

That glow in yonder '' Milky Way," Tho' only faint and dimly seen,

They blaze as does yon god of day.

XLIV. For never since the morning stars

Together sang with joyful song O'er new-born earth, by God-head sent

To join the grand, triumphal throng Of suns and worlds that onward sweep

Around His great, majestic throne, Was ever truer, nobler men

Than Southern private soldiers known.

XLV. Not even that celestial host

Who drove, with wrathful thunders dire, The traitor Satan and his horde

From Heaven's courts to pits of fire. Were more unselfish, brave and true

Than was that grand, heroic band Who fought beneath the ** Stars and Bars"

For God, for home, and native land.