By James R. Randall.

Permission of Henri Wehrman, New Orleans, La.

Weep, Louisiana, weep! thy gallant dead
Weave the green laurel o’er the undaunted head!
Fling thy bright banner o’er the breast which bled
Defending thee!
Weep, weep, Imperial City, deep and wild!
Weep for thy martyred and heroic child,
The young, the brave, the free, the undefiled,
Ah, weep for him.
Lo! lo! the wail surgeth from embatteled bands,
By Yorktown’s plains and Pensacola’s sands,
Re-echoing to the golden sugar lands,
Adieu! Adieu!

The death of honor was the death he craved,
To die where weapons clashed and pennons waved,
To welcome Freedom o’er the opening impetuous grave,
And live for aye!
His blood had too much lightning to be still,
His spirit was the torrent, not the rill,
The gods have loved him, and the Eternal Hill
Is his at last!
He died while yet his chainless eye could roll,
Flashing the conflagrations of his soul,
The rose and mirror of the bold Creole,
He sleepeth well.

Lament, lone mother, for his early fate,
But, bear thy burden with a hope elate,
For thou hast shrined thy jewels in the state,
A priceless boon!
And thou, sad wife, thy sacred tears belong
To the untarnished and immortal throng,
For he shall fire the poet’s heart and song,
In thrilling strains.
And the fair virgins of our sunny clime,
Shall wed their music to the minstrel’s rhyme,
Making his fame melodious for all time;
It cannot die.