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Sleep well, O stainless knight,
'Neath the folds of the starry cross, For the day now breaks o'er the long, long night
Of our anguish, peril and loss; But alas! for the eyes that smiled on death,
And the life that held life dross.
They say thine ancestral line,
Swayed the scepter, and wore the crown; But none girded a nobler sword than thine,
Nor more stainless life laid down; And we ask no gleam from their grand old past,
To brighten thy young renown.
On the field thy life was giv'n,
"Where our best blood has been poured ;
At the feet of our county's God, in heaven, Thou hast laid another sword,
When Jackson's head was so lately bowed, The tried soldier of the Lord.
Oh, swords of the South! like flame,
Leap forth for this life-blood shed, Strike the foe till he flies from the field in shame,
Sheathe not till the hilt is red ! And redeem the land that enshrines in her heart,
The graves of her glorious dead! |
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