VII.

The love that for the Union Once in our bosoms beat, From insult and from injury Has turned to scorn and hate; And the banner of Secession To-day we lift on high, Resolved, beneath that sacred flag, To conquer, or TO DIE!

Montgomery Advertiser, October, 1860.

Nec Temere, Nec Timide.

By Annie Chambers Ketchum.

Gentlemen of the South, Gird on your glittering swords! Darkly along our borders fair Gather the Northern hordes. Ruthless and fierce they come At the fiery cannon's mouth, To blast the glory of our land, Gentlemen of the South!

Ride forth in your stately pride, Each bearing on his shield Ensigns our fathers won of yore On many a well-fought field! Let this be your battle-cry, Even to the cannon's mouth, _Cor unum via una!_ Onward, Gentlemen of the South!

Brave knights of a knightly race, Gordon, and Chambers, and Gray, Show to the minions of the North How Valor dares the fray! Let them read on each stainless crest At the belching cannon's mouth, _Decori decus addit avito_, Gentlemen of the South!

Morrison, Douglas, Stuart, Erskine, and Bradford, and West, Your gauntlets on many a bloody field Have stood the battle's test! _Animo non astutia!_ March to the cannon's mouth, Heirs of the brave dead centuries! Onward, Gentlemen of the South!

Call forth your stalwart men, Workers in brass and steel! Bid the swart artisans come forth At sound of the trumpet's peal! Give them your war-cry, Erskine! _Fight!_ to the cannon's mouth! Bid the men _Forward!_ Douglas, _Forward!_ Yeomanry of the South!

Brave hunters! Ye have met The fierce black bear in the fray; Ye have trailed the panther night by night, Ye have chased the fox by day! Your prancing chargers pant To dash at the gray wolf's mouth, Your arms are sure of their quarry! Onward! Gentlemen of the South!

Fight! that the lowly serf And the high-born lady still May bide in their proud dependency, Free subjects of your will! Teach the base North how ill, At the fiery cannon's mouth, He fares who touches your household gods, Gentlemen of the South!

From mother, and wife, and child, From faithful and happy slave, Prayers for your sakes ascend to Him Whose arm is strong to save! We check the gathering tears, Though ye go to the cannon's mouth; _Dominus providebit!_ Onward, Gentlemen of the South!

Memphis Appeal.

Dixie.

By Albert Pike.