Fair were our visions! Oh, they were as grand
As ever floated out of Faerie land;
Children were we in single faith,
But God-like children, whom, nor death,
Nor threat, nor danger drove from Honor's path,
In the land where we were dreaming.

Proud were our men, as pride of birth could render;
As violets, our women pure and tender;
And when they spoke, their voice did thrill
Until at eve, the whip-poor-will,
At morn the mocking-bird, were mute and still
In the land where we were dreaming.

And we had graves that covered more of glory
Than ever tracked tradition's ancient story;
And in our dream we wove the thread
Of principles for which had bled
And suffered long our own immortal dead
In the land where we were dreaming.

Though in our land we had both bond and free,
Both were content; and so God let them be;--
'Till envy coveted our land
And those fair fields our valor won:
But little recked we, for we still slept on,
In the land where we were dreaming.

Our sleep grew troubled and our dreams grew wild--
Red meteors flashed across our heaven's field;
Crimson the moon; between the Twins
Barbed arrows fly, and then begins
Such strife as when disorder's Chaos reigns,
In the land where we were dreaming.

Down from her sun-lit heights smiled Liberty
And waved her cap in sign of Victory--
The world approved, and everywhere
Except where growled the Russian bear,
The good, the brave, the just gave us their prayer
In the land where we were dreaming.

We fancied that a Government was ours--
We challenged place among the world's great powers;
We talked in sleep of Rank, Commission,
Until so life-like grew our vision,
That he who dared to doubt but met derision
In the land where we were dreaming.

We looked on high: a banner there was seen,
Whose field was blanched and spotless in its sheen--
Chivalry's cross its Union bears,
And vet'rans swearing by their scars
Vowed they would bear it through a hundred wars
In the land where we were dreaming.

A hero came amongst us as we slept;
At first he lowly knelt--then rose and wept;
Then gathering up a thousand spears
He swept across the field of Mars;
Then bowed farewell and walked beyond the stars--
In the land where we were dreaming.

We looked again: another figure still
Gave hope, and nerved each individual will--
Full of grandeur, clothed with power,
Self-poised, erect, he ruled the hour
With stern, majestic sway--of strength a tower
In the land where we were dreaming.

As, while great Jove, in bronze, a warder God,
Gazed eastward from the Forum where he stood,
Rome felt herself secure and free,
So, "Richmond's safe," we said, while we
Beheld a bronzed Hero--God-like Lee,
In the land where we were dreaming.

As wakes the soldier when the alarum calls--
As wakes the mother when the infant falls--
As starts the traveller when around
His sleeping couch the fire-bells sound--
So woke our nation with a single bound
In the land where we were dreaming.

Woe! woe is me! the startled mother cried--
While we have slept our noble sons have died!
Woe! woe is me! how strange and sad,
That all our glorious vision's fled
And left us nothing real but the dead
In the land where we were dreaming.

And are they really dead, our martyred slain?
No! dreamers! morn shall bid them rise again
From every vale--from every height
On which they seemed to die for right--
Their gallant spirits shall renew the fight
In the land where we were dreaming.

Ballad--"Yes, Build Your Walls."

I.

Yes, build your walls of stone or sand,
But know, when all is builded--then,
The proper breastworks of the land
Are in a race of freeborn men!
The sons of sires, who knew, in life,
That, of all virtues, manhood first,
Still nursing peace, yet arms for strife,
And braves, for liberty, the worst!

II.

What grand examples have been ours!
Oh! sons of Moultrie, Marion,--call
From mansions of the past, the powers,
That plucked ye from the despot's thrall!
Do Sumter, Rutledge, Gadsden, live?
Oh! for your City by the Sea,
They gladly gave, what men could give,
Blood, life, and toil, and made it free!

III.

The grand inheritance, in trust
For children of your loins, must know
No taint of shame, no loss by lust,
Your own, or of the usurping foe!
Let not your sons, in future days,
The children now that bear your name,
Exulting in a grandsire's praise,
Droop o'er a father's grave in shame!

Charleston Mercury.

The Lines Around Petersburg.