So tear your traitorous ensigns down, Run up the Stars and Stripes, sirs, Or Uncle Sam will feed you lead, Until you have the gripes, sirs! The eagle is too wise a fowl To fool with all your pranks, sirs; Fort Pickens you must leave alone, Or thin your rebel ranks, sirs! SOUTHWARD, HO! Southward, ho! 'Twas a stormy chorus Over the teeming Indian plains- The pearl-wrought girdles of Hindoo princes, O'er the shattered throne and the wrecked pagoda As ever onward the locust legions Yet a higher strength and greatness even From the bounding blood of the Northern nations, Southward, ho! 'Twas a grander anthem, Which had made her younger years sublime; The blood was chilly, and weak, and nerveless, That flowed through the shrunken veins of Time. So a stronger life and a mightier spirit Forth from the stormy North were hurled, And filled, with the strength of a new creation, The withered limbs of the dead old world. And over the ashes of desolation Those Vandals sowed in their gory way, The glowing light of the modern ages Blazed and bloomed like a heavenly day! Southward, ho! How the mighty chorus Shook the depths of the Northern seas, The frozen fiords and the glaciers cold, And the martial joy of the thunderer Thor. From the Northern giants' glorious graves, Springs the power which has made Britannia Ocean-queen of the Western waves. Southward, ho! How the grand old war-cry The South has fallen from her ancient glory, Southward, ho! Bear on the watchword! Till over the traitor's fallen fortress The Stripes shall stream and the Stars shall blaze! In the path of the Southward rushing storm; Manhood fails on the tropic plains, Send, O God, thy Northern giants To pour fresh blood through their feeble veins! -N. Y. Tribune, July 11. THE CAVALIER'S SONG. I'm a dashing young Southerner, gallant and tall; With our feet to the field and our backs to the foe! My sword is gold-hilted, my charger is fleet; 'Tis well for the hireling myrmidon crew Don't misunderstand-I mean, beat a retreat! grow 'Neath our feet on the field, with our backs to the foe! Then bring me my horse! let me ride in the van,— The Northmen, to catch me, will have to ride fast, WATCHING AND WAITING. Here, a watchman on the railroad, Watching for some daring rebel, 'Gainst the bridge to vent his spite; Waiting, with a studied patience, For the coming of the night. From the forest trees about me, Come the dead leaves drifting down, While the streamlet bears them onward Floating clouds of golden brown. So, through all the passing autumn, All the long and lonesome day, Watch I, while my spirit wanders To another far away. One, whose purpose high and noble, Sure my palace is a shanty Sure the cracks are gaping wide; And my hands are rough and rusty From the musket by my side. But my soul is full of ardor For the triumph of the Right, As I wait and watch here calmly For the coming of the night. I am waiting for the battle I must wage throughout my life; I am waiting for the spirit That shall guide me through its strife. Cincinnati Times, Oct. 30. WHAT OF THE NIGHT? Watchman, what of the night? Are there signs in the East that augur the day, Whither the eagle's flight? Does she bear in her beak the Stripes and the Stars, The device which was won by a thousand scars? Then shout, as it floats through the cloud in the breeze! 'Tis the ægis of Hope on the land and the seas. Blackness and night I see! Ho, rally! ho, rally! our banner is rent, The flag-bearing Eagle away from her skies! Freedom or Slavery, Is the watchword that booms from Sumter's black walls; And Freedom or Death, answer back Northern Halls! To Freedom or Death! is the shout and the cry; By the Banner of Freedom 'tis glory to die! Blackness and night I see! And the trumpings that break 'mid the cloud and the storm, And the marshalling feet of the hosts as they form, Like a hurricane bred on the tempest's red track, Now warn of the wreck and the woe in their track. WEEP O'ER THE HEROES AS THEY FALL. BY CHARLES WILLIAM BUTLER. Dedicated to our Armies. Weep o'er the heroes as they fall And vow to Heaven our lives, our all, Weep o'er the heroes as they fall, Who give their nation's earnest call A life and death sublime. We call them dead; and yet their hearts Throb on in memory's shrineFor them the patriot's noblest part, In Freedom's cause divine. III. Hurrah for the soldier and sailor! Not grudgingly theirs be fame's meed ! Place! place for the sailor and soldier Who spurned the base cry of SECEDE! CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL. See! o'er yon proud cathedral, like a star, One year ago it gleamed along the sky With scornful lip the men of purpose said: "Portent of evil! lo, the Christ has fled." But now, thank God! it stands a beacon-light; The Christ is there, encouraging the Right. The solemn organ grandly pealing thereA hymn to Freedom sweetens all the air. One year ago that deep-toned organ smote The ear with horror; for each mocking note Came down upon us with the monstrous cry, That "Slavery is truth, and God a lie;" But now the nation listens while it ringsFor lo! a song of Freedom upward springs. Thank God for this! We turn again to thee, Great Mother Church, and bow the willing knee Before thine altar. Now the Christ is there, And Liberty beside Him breathes her prayer. Within thy precincts men of holy vow Thy prayer is Union-gather for the fight, "O ye whom we have called upon to lead! "And dare ye shrink from acting now your part, While all the nation waits with throbbing heart? "Oh, give us, God, the men of purpose high, And give the people one brave battle-cry— "Be this our watchword-let the nations hearSlaves nevermore shall breathe our atmosphere ! "And let our boast (the boast of England) beThe slaves that touch Columbia's soil are free. "Man must be man in all that makes the manThe crowning work of God's creative plan; "No thing debased, no slave of monstrous birth, A blighted manhood and a shame to earth. "Strike Treason down, annihilate the wrong, Make Justice bold, and Truth and Freedom strong. "Ho, impious men! ye fight at fearful odds, Who war on Freedom; for her curse is God's." sick and wounded comrades-so shall my heart be a canteen full of love and sympathy for each and all of you. Comrades, Thank you thank you—thank you." "The Daughter" delivered the speech in a very clear and distinct manner, and at its conclusion the regiment gave her three cheers and a "tiger," and escorted her to head-quarters.—Boston Post. THE FOURTH OF JULY, SOUTH.-As particularly noticed in yesterday's Picayune, there bids fair to be a very spirited celebration of the Fourth of July. Besides the military doings which we have mentioned, there will be an entire suspension of business, and the holiday will be universally kept, as it is right and proper it should be. Camp Lewis will be the centre of attraction, beyond doubt. The facilities for going thither and re 'Twas thus he spoke; and that brave, honest prayer, turning at all hours of the day and evening, by the Is now an anthem on the lips of air; And earnest ears are quick to catch the song, The great Cathedral, as in days gone by, THE DAUGHTER OF THE SIXTH.-Miss Lizzie C. Jones, the Daughter of the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment, is said to look charmingly in her new costume 28 "the child," and will undoubtedly be an object of extraordinary interest when that regiment returns to Boston. A correspondent says:-"She is but ten years old, and since she has been in camp, she has been a great comfort to the soldiers in the hospital, visiting them daily, and dispensing among the unfortunate little delicacies, as well as going frequently through the streets of the camp with strawberries, cherries, &c. Sometimes she has distributed as many as sixteen boxes to a company-the market-man, of course, driving his cart to each tent." The presentation speech accompanying the gift of the uniform, was made by Sergeant Crowley, of Lowell, and of the closing ceremonies the following is an account. The "Daughter" took the box containing the dress, and, with canteen upon her person, she tripped lightly into the "hospital" that was close at hand, and in a few moments appeared in her new and beautiful costume. Standing upon the green, with the beautiful silk banners on each side, she addressed the regiment as follows: "Comrades-when you took me, a stranger, and adopted me as your daughter, I had but little idea of what you were doing, and of what my duties were; but having been in camp with you two months, and learned to know you all, I have learned to love you all, and I feel that you all love me, because there are none of you when we meet but have a kind word and a pleasant smile for me. And now that you have put me in uniform, I feel still more that I belong to you, and I will try never to forget it. But you do not expect me to talk, but, like this splendid treasure, which I shall prize as a remembrance to the last day of my life-which is full to relieve the parched lips of my Carrollton Railroad, will make it a popular resort. There will be the usual parades, evolutions, and reviews, that will be well worth witnessing. The target firing and cannon practice of the Washington artillery, at the Lake, will also attract many spectators undoubtedly. The Picayune will observe the anniversary of American Independence as a holiday, as it ever has done from the beginning of its career. There will be no issue thereof after that of this morning, until the afternoon of Friday, thus enabling all connected with the office an opportunity of enjoying the day without stint.-N. O. Picayune, July 4. THE 85th anniversary of the Battle of Fort Moultrie was handsomely celebrated in Charleston on the 28th of June. Business was almost entirely suspended, military companies paraded, the streets were crowded, and there were all the observances of a gala day.— Idem. NEW ORLEANS, LA., July 6.-The editor of the Evening News at Hannibal, Mo., was lately arrested by a Federal officer there, taken to the Abolition camp, and subjected to ignominious treatment, and compelled to perform painful labor for the gratification of the mercenaries and Republican civilians who had repaired to the camp to "witness the perform ance." Among other things, he was made to "mark time" while extracts were being read from his paper, and to dig, under the powerful rays of a meridian sun, a deep hole in the earth. His only offence was the State Rights tone of his paper. The press from all parts of Missouri, not disposed to conceal from the public the outrages committed by the Lincolnites, bring us accounts of arrests, domiciliary visits, and insults to families, by the mercenaries who have invaded the State. One good service they are perform ing is to weaken the Union party every day they remain in the State.-N. O. Delta, July 6. GUERRILLA WAR IN VIRGINIA.-An old trapper of high respectability, who has resided in Hampton for many years, named Benjamin Phillips, was coming up the road near Hampton in the afternoon, armed with a double-barrelled gun. Seeing a buggs some distance ahead of him, he slipped into the woods and waited its approach. He soon discovered two officers seated in the buggy, and saw from their distressed appearance that they were in no condition to do him much damage. They hailed him as they passed, asking who he was. He replied by telling |