never know pollution;
Its cement was our father's blood,
Its roof the Constitution;
And though, like prodigals astray,
Its sons eat husks with swine,
And feel the rod, we'll kill the calf,
For "auld lang syne."

Then let the bugle sound, my boys
And forward to the strife;
We'll thrash our rebel brothers well,
E'en though it cost our life.
And when we've whipped them into grace
And made each dim star shine,
We'll open wide our Father's door,
For "auld lang syne."

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Oath -- A Conservative Darkey's Opinion of Yankees --
Visit to the Graves of Ohio and Indiana Boys -- Trip from
Murfreesboro to Louisville -- Nashville Convalescents -- A
Death in the Hospital -- Henry Lovie Captured.

THE OATH.

By Thomas BUCHANAN READ.

HAMLET--Swear on my sword.

GHOST (below)--_Swear!_--[_Shakspeare._

Ye freemen, how long will ye stifle
The vengeance that justice inspires?
With treason how long will you trifle,
And shame the proud name of your sires?
Out, out with the sword and the rifle,
In defense of your homes and your fires.
The flag of the old Revolution
Swear firmly to serve and uphold,
That no treasonous breath of pollution
Shall tarnish one star on its fold.
Swear!
And hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying,
"_Swear, O, swear!_"

In this moment who hesitates, barters
The rights which his forefathers won,
He forfeits all claim to the charters
Transmitted from sire to son.
Kneel, kneel at the graves of our martyrs,
And swear on your sword and your gun:
Lay up your great oath on an altar
As huge and as strong as Stonehenge,
And then with sword, fire, and halter,
Sweep down to the field of revenge.
Swear!
And hark, the deep voices replying
From graves where your fathers are lying,
"_Swear, O, swear!_"

By the tombs of your sires and brothers,
The host which the traitors have slain;
By the tears of your sisters and mothers,
In secret concealing their pain
The grief which the heroine smothers,
Consuming the heart and the brain
By the sigh of the penniless widow,
By the sob of her orphans' despair,
Where they sit in their sorrowful shadow,
Kneel, kneel, every freeman, and swear;
Swear!
And hark, the deep voices replying
From