THE SOUTHERN AMARANTH.

Off with disguise! no quarter now
To rebel honor! thou wouldst strike
Hot blushes up the anguished brow,

And murder fame and strength alike.
Beware! ten million's hearts aflame
Will burn with hate thou canst not tame.

We know thee now! we know thy race!
Thy dreadful purpose stands revealed,
Naked before the nation's face!

Comrades! let mercy's fount be sealed,
While the black banner courts the wind
And cursed be he who lags behind!

O soldiers, husbands, brothers, sires!
Think that each stalwart blow ye give
Shall quench the rage of lustful fires,

And bid your glorious women live
Pure from a wrong whose tainted breath
Were fouler than the foulest death.

O soldiers, lovers, Christians, men!
Think that each breeze that floats and dies
O'er the red field, from mount or glen,
Is burdened with a maiden's sighs;
And each false soul that turns to flee,
Consigns his love to infamy!

No pity! let your thirsty brands,

Drink their warm fill at caitiff veins, Dip deep in blood your wrathful hands, Nor pause to wipe those crimson stains. Slay slay! with ruthless sword and will, The God of vengeance bids you "kill !"

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Yes! but there's one who must not die
In battle harness! one for whom
Lurks in the darkness silently

Another and a sterner doom!

A warrior's end should crown the brave,
For him strong cord and felon grave!

As loathsome charnel vapors melt,
Swept by the rushing winds to nought,
So may this fiend of lust and guilt

Die like a nightmare's hideous thought.
Nought left to mark the monster's name,
Save-immortality of shame!

Letter.

ANON.

WHAT! clasp your red hands, and with brotherly trust,
Give our faith to the cheat you called Union, before?
The flag of our Freedom drag down to the dust,
And be scourged with the stripes from its folds that
we tore?

Are you mad? Can it be you have souls of your own, And believe love can blossom from treacherous

wrong?

Do you think that men's hearts can be turned into stone,

And their pulses still leap to the Syren's false song?

THE SOUTHERN AMARANTH.

Has the Puritan rage for dominion and gold

So defiled every well-spring of feeling and thought, That because to a despot yourselves you have sold,

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You believe pride and honor but wait to be bought?

We asked for our rights, and you answered with blowsFor brotherhood pleaded-you gave us your curseA Union of hate was the Union you choose,

And we'll give you none other-for better for worse!

You thought it was cheapest to smite and destroy-
It would cost less, you hoped, to be cruel than just―
And kindred and manhood went down, in your joy
Over havoc and murder and rapine and lust.

You have wasted our fields, and have strewn them with slain

You have written your wrath on each homestead's black wall

From shell-riven forest, and blood-blighted plain

Are

you deaf-we are not-to the voices that call?

There are deeds you rejoice in, a man may not name,
And deeds even fouler to do you have striven-
We should blush before men, as joint heirs of your
shame,

And be false before God, if we said they're forgiven!

But Peace! you can have it! There was not a day, Long after you came with the torch and the sword, That you might not have swept the wild war-clouds

away,

With the breath of one gentle and generous word!

'Tis too late for words now, and as long as you tread The soil you have ravaged-come weal or come

woe

There is battle between us, and, living or dead,

Accursed be the dastard who is not your foe!

You boast yourselves greater and wiser than we— To your wisdom and greatness go back and be blest

We claim but Heaven's gift to us both--to be free!

That gift we will have-and we leave you the rest.

We leave you your glories-all things you hold good— The rights you surrender-the laws that you breakReligion,-whose rubric is written in blood

And truth that a Pope or a Seward can speak!

We leave you your Butler-pure type of your race— With the fleet-footed Banks, and the gentle McNeill, And all the grand army of heroes, your Chase

Has marshalled around him, to lie and to steal!

No tithe of these firstlings we covet or claimGod keep them, to bless you, a century still! We ask for no share in your lands or your fameOnly leave us our own, and have Peace when you will!

Yes Peace while you're peaceful-but Union, no

never!

The lightnings of Heaven have rifted that chain !
Whom God puts asunder, no juggle can ever,
With blasphemous vows, bind together again!
FROM THE MARYLAND MAIL BAG, 1863.

REBELS, 'TIS A GLORIOUS NAME.

Rebels, 'tis a Holy Name.

BY REV. MR. GARESCHE, ST. LOUIS MO.

REBELS! "Tis a holy name,

The name our fathers bore,
When battling in the cause of right
Against the tyrant in his might,
In the dark days of yore.

Rebels! "Tis our family name,
Our father-Washington-
Was the arch-rebel in the fight-
And gave the name to us, a right
Of father unto son.

Rebels! 'Tis our given name,
Our mother, Liberty,

Received the title with her fame,
In days of grief, of fear and shame,
When at her breast were we.

Rebels! "Tis our sealed name
A baptism of blood!

The war-aye, the din of strife-
The fearful contest, life for life,
The mingled crimson flood.

Rebels! 'Tis a patriot name!
In struggle it was given,
We bore it then when tyrants raved,
And through their curses 'twas engraved
On the Doomsday book of Heaven!

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