Harp of the South, awake! A loftier strain
Than ever yet thy tuneful strings has stirred,
Awaits thee now. The Eastern world has heard
The thunder of the battle 'cross the main--
Has seen the young South burst the tyrant's chain,
And rise to being at a single word--
The watchword, Liberty--so long transferred
To the oppressor's mouth. Moons wax and wane,
And still the nations stand with listening ear,
And still o'er ocean floats the battle-cry.
Harp of the South, awake, and bid them hear
The name of Jackson; loud, and clear, and high,
Strike notes exultant, o'er the hero's bier,
Who, though he sleeps in dust, can never die.
WHAT THE SPIRITS OF THE FATHERS OF THE FIRST REVOLUTION SAY TO THEIR SONS
NOW ENGAGED IN THE SECOND.