WILLIAM HAINES LYTLE

1826-1863

GENERAL LYTLE was born at Cincinnati, Ohio, and fell at the battle of Chickamauga, in 1863. He had also served in the Mexican War. For gallant conduct in battle he was made brigadier general of volunteers. A volume of his poems was published after his death.

Thou, and thou alone, must hear.

Though my scarred and veteran legions
Bear their eagles high no more,
And my wrecked and scattered galleys
Strew dark Actium's fatal shore;

Though no glittering guards surround me,

Prompt to do their master's will,

I must perish like a Roman,

Die the great Triumvir still.

Let not Cæsar's servile minions

Mock the lion thus laid low;

'Twas no foeman's arm that felled him,

'Twas his own that struck the blow:

His who, pillowed on thy bosom,
Turned aside from glory's ray-
His who, drunk with thy caresses,
Madly threw a world away.

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Should the base plebeian rabble
Dare assail my name at Rome,
Where the noble spouse Octavia

Weeps within her widowed home,
Seek her; say the gods bear witness, -
Altars, augurs, circling wings,
That her blood, with mine commingled,
Yet shall mount the thrones of kings.

And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian

Glorious sorceress of the Nile!
Light the path to Stygian horrors,
With the splendor of thy smile;
Give the Cæsar crowns and arches,
Let his brow the laurel twine:
I can scorn the senate's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.

I am dying, Egypt, dying!

Hark! the insulting foeman's cry;
They are coming-quick, my falchion!

Let me front them ere I die.
Ah, no more amid the battle

Shall my heart exulting swell;

Isis and Osiris guard thee

TIMROD was born in Charleston, South Carolina, where his father was a bookbinder and a writer of verses. He studied for a time in the University of Georgia, and then began the study of law, but gave it up for teaching. During the Civil War he was war correspondent of the Charleston Mercury, and also wrote stirring war verses.

After

the war he fell a prey to poverty and disease, and died of consumption at Columbia. A volume of his poems appeared in 1860, and it was republished several years afterward, with a memoir of the author by Paul H. Hayne.

CHARLESTON 1
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CALM as that second summer which precedes

The first fall of the snow,

In the broad sunlight of heroic deeds,
The city bides the foe.

As yet, behind their ramparts, stern and proud,
Her bolted thunders sleep, -

Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud,

Looms o'er the solemn deep.

No Calpe frowns from lofty cliff or scaur

To guard the holy strand;

But Moultrie holds in leash her dogs of war
Above the level sand.

And down the dunes a thousand guns lie couched,

Unseen, beside the flood,

Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched,
That wait and watch for blood.

Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade,
Walk grave and thoughtful men,

Whose hands may one day wield the patriot's blade
As lightly as the pen.

And maidens, with such eyes as would grow dim
Over a bleeding hound,

Seem each one to have caught the strength of him
Whose sword she sadly bound.

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1 This and the following poem are from the Memorial Edition of Timrod's Poems, B. F. Johnson Publishing Company, Richmond, Virginia.

Thus girt without and garrisoned at home,
Day patient following day,

Old Charleston looks from roof and spire and dome,
Across her tranquil bay.

Ships, through a hundred foes, from Saxon lands

And spicy Indian ports,

Bring Saxon steel and iron to her hands,

And summer to her courts.

But still, along yon dim Atlantic line,

The only hostile smoke

Creeps like a harmless mist above the brine,
From some frail floating oak.

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Shall the spring dawn, and she, still clad in smiles,
And with an unscathed brow,

Rest in the strong arms of her palm-crowned isles,

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As fair and free as now?

We know not; in the temple of the Fates

God has inscribed her doom:

And, all untroubled in her faith, she waits

Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,

And these memorial blooms.

Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.

Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!

There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,

By mourning beauty crowned.

Charleston, 1867.

PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE

1830-1886

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HAYNE was born in Charleston, South Carolina. His father was a lieutenant in the United States Navy, and his uncle was Robert Y. Hayne, senator from South Carolina, one of whose speeches drew from Webster the famous "reply." Paul Hayne was graduated from Charleston College, studied law, but soon became the editor of Russell's Magazine at Charleston. During the war he served, with the rank of colonel, on the staff of Governor Pickens. He was also one of the favorite war-time poets on the Southern side. After the war, by which he lost his house and library, he removed to "Copse Hill," near Augusta, Georgia, where he lived simply and industriously until his death. He issued several volumes of poems during his lifetime. Of quiet temper and affable ways, he was greatly beloved by a large circle of iterary friends in all parts of the country.

A LITTLE WHILE I FAIN WOULD LINGER YET

A LITTLE While (my life is almost set!)

I fain would pause along the downward way,
Musing an hour in this sad sunset ray,

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