210 Southern Historical Society Papers,
Yes, it is true, my countrymen,
We are rich in names and blood,
And red have been the blossoms
From the first Colonial bud.
While her names have blazed as meteors
By many a field and flood.
And as some flood tumultuous In sounding billows rolled Give back the evening glories In a wealth of blazing gold ; So does the present ft-om its waves Reflect the lights of old.
Our history is a shifting sea
Locked in by lofty land
And its great Pillars of Hercules,
Above the shining sand,
I here behold in majesty
Uprising on each hand.
These Pillars of our history. In fame forever young, Are known in every latitude And named in every tongue. And down through all the Ages There story shall be sung.
The Father of His Country Stands above that shut-in sea A glorious symbol to the world Of all that's great and free ; And to-day Virginia matches him — And matches him with Lee.
II.
Who shall blame the social order Which gave us men as great as these ? Who condemn the soil of t* forest Which brings forth gigantic trees ? Who presume to doubt that Providence Shapes out our destinies ?
Foreordained, and long maturing, Came the famous men of old ; In the dark mines deep were driven Down the shafts to reach the gold, And the story is far longer Than the histories have told.
