Arise! arise! with main and might,
Sons of the sunny clime!
Gird on the sword; the sacred fight
The holy hour doth chime.
Arise! the craven host draws nigh,
In thundering array;
Arise, ye brave! let cowards fly--
The hero bides the fray.
Strike hard, strike hard, thou noble band;
Strike hard, with arm of fire!
Strike hard, for God and fatherland,
For mother, wife, and sire!
Let thunders roar, the lightning flash;
Bold Southron, never fear!
The bayonet's point, the saber's clash,
True Southrons do and dare!
Bright flow'rs spring from the hero's grave;
The craven knows no rest!
Thrice curs'd the traitor and the knave!
The hero thrice is bless'd.
Then let each noble Southron stand,
With bold and manly eye:
We'll do for God and fatherland;
We'll do, we'll do, or die!
_Charleston Courier._