Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/299

Shout! let it reach the startled Huns! And roar with all thy festal guns! It is the answer of thy sons, Carolina! They will not wait to hear thee call; From Sachem s Head to Sumter s wall Resounds the voice of hut and hall, Carolina! No! thou hast not a stain, they say, Or none save what the battle-day Shall wash in seas of blood away, Carolina! Thy skirts indeed the foe may part, Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart, They shall not touch thy noble heart, Carolina! Ere thou shalt own the tyrant s thrall Ten times ten thousand men must fall; Thy corpse may hearken to his call, Carolina! When, by thy bier, in mournful throngs The women chant thy mortal wrongs, T will be their own funereal songs, Carolina! From thy dead breast by ruffians trod No helpless child shall look to God; All shall be safe beneath thy sod, Carolina!