Morris Island

Oh! from the deeds well done, the blood well shed In a good cause springs up to crown the land With ever-during verdure, memory fed, Wherever freedom rears one fearless band, The genius, which makes sacred time and place, Shaping the grand memorials of a race! The barren rock becomes a monument, The sea-shore sands a shrine; And each brave life, in desperate conflict spent, Grows to a memory which prolongs a line! Oh! barren isle--oh! fruitless shore, Oh! realm devoid of beauty--how the light From glory's sun streams down for evermore, Hallowing your ancient barrenness with bright! Brief dates, your lowly forts; but full of glory, Worthy a life-long story; Remembered, to be chronicled and read, When all your gallant garrisons are dead; And to be sung While liberty and letters find a tongue! Taught by the grandsires at the ingle-blaze, Through the long winter night; Pored over, memoried well, in winter days, While youthful admiration, with delight, Hangs, breathless, o'er the tale, with silent praise; Seasoning delight with wonder, as he reads Of stubborn conflict and audacious deeds; Watching the endurance of the free and brave, Through the protracted struggle and close fight, Contending for the lands they may not save, Against the felon, and innumerous foe; Still struggling, though each rampart proves a grave. For home, and all that's dear to man below! Earth reels and ocean rocks at every blow; But still undaunted, with a martyr's might, They make for man a new Thermopylae; And, perishing for freedom, still go free! Let but each humble islet of our coast Thus join the terrible issue to the last; And never shall the invader make his boast Of triumph, though with mightiest panoply He seeks to rend and rive, to blight and blast!