The foe has hemmed us round: we stand at bay,
Here we will perish, or be free to-day!
To drum and bugle sternly sounding,
The Southern soldier's heart is bounding;
But stay--oh stay! Virginia is not here!
Hush your strains of martial cheer;
O bugle, peace!
O war-drum, cease!
Virginia is not here!
Suspend, O chief, your word of fight!
She will be soon in sight!
Her children never called in vain!
She comes not--comes not: the disgrace
Were bitterer than the tyrant's chain!
Oh, death! we dare thee face to face!
A gun! the foe's defiant shot--be still!
Hurrah! an answering gun behind the hill;
And o'er its summit wildly streaming
The squadrons of Virginia gleaming![5]
Hurrah! hurrah! the Old Dominion comes!
Blow your bugles! beat your drums!
O doubt accurst!
The last is first--
The Old Dominion comes!
She grasps her thunderbolts of war;
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Now loose, O chief! your battle storm!
We hang impatient on your breath;
Here in the flashing front we form!
Virginia!--victory or death!