By H. H. Strawbridge.

States of the South! Confederate Land!
Our foe has come—the hour is nigh;
His bale-fires rise on every hand—
Rise as one man, to do or die!
From mountain, vale, and prairie wide,
From forest vast, and field, and glen,
And crowded city, pour thy tide,
Oh fervid South! Oh patriot men!

Chorus—Up! old and young; the weak, be strong!
Rise for the right,—hurl back the wrong,
And foot to foot, and hand to hand,
Strike for our own Confederate Land!

Make every house, and rock, and tree,
And hill, your forts; and fen and flood
Yield not! our soil shall rather be
One waste of flame, one sea of blood!
On! though perennial be the strife,
For honor dear, for hearthstone fires;
Give blow for blow! take life for life!
“Strike! ’till the last armed foe expires!”