By Susan A. Tally.

Air—“Scots, Wha hae wi’ Wallace bled.”

Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,
And ready stand, in war’s array,—
Virginia sounds her battle call,
And gladly we obey.
Our hands upon our trusty swords,
Our hearts with courage beating high—
We’ll fight as once our fathers fought,
To conquer or to die!

Adieu, awhile, to loving eyes,
And lips that breathe our names in prayer;
To them our holiest thoughts be given,
For them our swords we bare!
Yet linger not when honor calls,
Nor breathe one sad, regretful sigh,—
Defying fate, for love we’ll live,
Or for our country die!

No tyrant hand shall ever dare
Our sacred Southern homes despoil,
No tyrant foot shall e’er invade
Our free Virginia soil.
Lo! from her lofty mountain peaks,
To plains that skirt the Southern seas,
We fling her banner to the winds,
Her motto on the breeze!

We hear the roll of stormy drums,
We hear the trumpet’s call afar!
Now forward, gallant comrades all,
To swell the ranks of war;
Uplift on high our battle cry,
When fiercest rolls the bloody fight,
“Virginia! for the Southern cause,
And God defend the right!”