If we trust the North's relenting,
We shall shriek-too late repenting,
"A furore Normanorum
Libera nos, O Domine !"*

Gathering Song.

AIR-Bonnie Blue Flag.

BY ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM.

COME, brothers! rally for the right!
The bravest of the brave

Sends forth her ringing battle-cry,

Beside the Atlantic wave!

She leads the way in honor's path!
Come, brothers near and far,

Come rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!

We've borne the Yankee trickery,
The Yankee gibe and sneer,
Till Yankee insolence and pride
Know neither shame nor fear;

But ready now with shot and steel,
Their brazen front to mar,

We hoist aloft the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!

* For this incident in the life of the sea-robber, Hastings, see Mil

man's History of Latin Christianity.

Now Georgia marches to the front,
And close behind her come
Her sisters by the Mexique Sea
With pealing trump and drum!
Till, answering back from hill and glen
The rallying cry afar,

A NATION hoists the Bonnie Blue Flag
That bears a single star!

By every stone in Charleston Bay,
By each beleaguered town,
We swear to rest not night or day,
But hunt the tyrants down!
Till, bathed in valor's holy blood,

The gazing world afar

Shall greet with shouts the Bonnie Blue Flag,

That bears the Cross and Star!

To a Mocking Bird.

On being waked by its song, near the camp, in the dusk of morning

BY. E. F. W.

SWEET bird that thrill'st with early note.
The hedge-row charred and sere,
Why swells and throbs thy downy throat

With spring-tide raptures here,

Where bristle men instead of corn

And o'er each belted line,

The glimmering blade shoots up at morn

To harsher calls than thine.

The transitory mists that smoke
Along yon river far,

Yon earth-born clouds of pine and oak
Await the storm of war;

Where bugle-charge and rifle-din

And cannon's deadly boom,

Shall wreck thy bowers of jessamine,

And beds of violet bloom.

Before the battle-blasts arise

Go, seek that halcyon west,

And charm the spot where Rosa lies-
My baby at her breast-
Where, if thy modulated flute

Prolong the strain, a glee

Of bright-eyed children, wonder-mute Shall wake to honor thee.

The pride of India scents the grove,
With perfume rich and faint-
So breathes thy chanted peace and love,
And musical complaint

A painful sweet-their freighted lays—
The charm then comes and goes-
The soldier's dream of happy days
And nights of soft repose.

But if thou com'st to cheer my soul,

With hints of what shall be

A prophet with a dusky stole

And pipe of jubilee—

Let not amid these glooms of war,

Thy holy matins cease,

Till thou shalt prove the morning star
That leads the dawn of Peace!

CAMP GADBERRY, JAMES ISLAND, March, 1863. SOUTHERN ILLUSTRATED NEWS.

The Trooper to his Steed.

BY SUSAN ARCHER TALLEY, VIRGINIA.

AWAY! my steed in thy joyous pride,
With thy flashing eye and thy bounding stride!
Away! like a spirit from bondage freed,

As we spurn the earth in our rushing speed,
While river, and woodland, and shore, and stream,
Are floating by as an airy dream.

Light as the winds that around us blow,

Glad as the waves on the beach below,
Free as the flow of thine own bright mane,
We bound along the grassy plain;
And I feel my pulses with gladness fill,
And a newer life through my being thrill.

Oh! mournful thoughts that have dimmed my brow;
Oh! sad forebodings, where are ye now?

What are the trials for which I care?

What is the danger I would not dare?
Where duty summons or courage leads,
Daring and doing a hero's deeds.

Oh! for the din of the stormy fight,
Now, in the flush of my conscious might!
How would I charge on the flying foe,
Laying the ranks of invaders low-
And proudly trust in my sorest need,
To my shining blade, and my noble steed!

SOUTHERN ILLUSTRATED NEWS.

A Farewell to Pope.

BY JOHN R. THOMPSON, VIRGINIA.

"HATS off” in the crowd, "Present arms" in the line! Let the standards all bow and the sabres incline

Roll, drums, the Rogue's March, while the conqueror

goes,

Whose eyes have seen only "the backs of his foes"-
Through a thicket of laurel, a whirlwind of cheers,
His vanishing form from our gaze disappears;
Henceforth with the savage Dacotahs to cope,
Abiit evasit, erupit-John Pope.

He came out of the West, like the young Lochinvar,
Compeller of fate and controller of war,
Videre et vincere, simply to see,

And straightway to conquer Hill, Jackson and Lee;
And old Abe at the White House, like Kilmansegg

père,

With a monkeyish grin and beatified air,

"Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap,"

As with eager attention he listened to Pope.