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THE BLACK FLAG.

Raise now the sable flag! high let it wave
O'er all Secessia's hills and flowery vales,
And on its sable folds the motto trace,
"For victory or death!" The hated foe
Have gathered in our lovely land, and trod,
With desecrating steps, our State's proud Capital.
They've pillaged in our cities, burned our homes,
Exiled our stanch, true-hearted patriots,
Arrested loyal citizens, and sent
Them to those hungry bastiles of the North,
The ignominious "Chase" and "Johnson's Isle."
Our clergy--God's anointed--who refused
To take a black, obnoxious oath, to perjure
Their own souls, they placed in "durance vile."
The noble daughters of the "sunny South,"
Whose hearts were with their country's cause, they forced
To yield obedience to their hated laws,
Nor heeded cries of pity; whether from
Matron staid, beseeching them to leave her,
For her little ones, her own meat and bread;
Or from the bright-eyed boy, with manly grace,
Who brooks, with sorrowing looks, the insults she
Is forced to bear, and dares not to resent;
Or from the gray-haired sire, whose cord of life
Is nearly loosed, who, in enfeebled tones,
Prays them to cease their vexing raids, and let
An old man die in peace. Nor will they list
To maiden fair, whose virtue is their goal.
They've desolated every home where once
Abundance bloomed, and with the weapons of
A warrior (?)--fire and theft--have laid our homes
In ashes, plundered their effects, and sworn
Th' extermination of Secessia's sons.
Then raise the ebon flag! with Spring's warm breath
Let it unfurl its night-like folds, and wave
Where noble "Freeman" fills a martyr's grave.
Then strike! but not for booty, soldiers brave;
Fight to defend your liberties and homes--
The joy it gives to see the Vandals fall,
And catch the music of their dying groans.
Go! burn their cities, scourge their fertile lands;
Teach them retaliation; plow their fields,
And slay by thousands with your iron hail;
Scorn every treaty, every Yankee clan.
Defy with Spartan courage. _Vengeance_ stamp
Upon your bayonets; and let the hills and
Vales resound with _Blood_--your battle-cry.

SINGULAR.

Civilians are often puzzled, in reading reports of battles, to
understand how it is that a thousand troops in a body can "stand the
galling fire of the enemy" for an hour or more, and come out with but
two or three