His feet may press their soil,
Or his numbers bear them down,
In his vandal raid for spoil,
His sordid soul to crown;
But his triumph will be fleeting, for the hour is drawing near,
When the war-cry of thy cavaliers shall strike his startled ear.

A fearful time shall come,
When thy gathering bands unite,
And the larum-sounding drum
Calls to struggle for the Right;
"_Pro aris et pro focis_," from rank to rank shall fly,
As they meet the cruel foeman, to conquer or to die.

Oh, then a tale of glory
Shall yet again be thine,
And the record of thy story
The Laurel shall entwine;
Oh, noble Carolina! oh, proud and lordly State!
Heroic deeds shall crown thee, and the Nations own thee great.




Our Martyrs.

Bu Paul H. Hayne.