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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

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Georgia (Georgia, United States) (search for this): chapter 202
War song of the Macon light Dragoons. see poetry and incidents, page 7, Vol. III. rebellion record. To horse! To horse! The standard flies! The bugles sound the call! Your glittering sabres quickly seize; The voice of battle's on the breeze; Arouse ye I one and all! From Georgia's fertile plains we come, A band of brothers true; Our casques the leopard's spoil surround, Our neighing chargers paw the ground, We boast the red and blue. And shall we bend the stubborn head, In Freedom's temple born? Dress our pale cheeks in timid smile, To hail a master in our Isle, Or brook a victor's scorn? No! though destruction o'er the land Come pouring as a flood, The sun that sees our falling day Shall mark our sabres' deadly sway, And set that night in blood! For gold let Scott's dull regions fight, Or plunder's bloody gain, Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw To guard our country and our law, Nor shall their edge be vain. And now, while breath of Northern gale Still fans the tri-colo
Scott (search for this): chapter 202
orgia's fertile plains we come, A band of brothers true; Our casques the leopard's spoil surround, Our neighing chargers paw the ground, We boast the red and blue. And shall we bend the stubborn head, In Freedom's temple born? Dress our pale cheeks in timid smile, To hail a master in our Isle, Or brook a victor's scorn? No! though destruction o'er the land Come pouring as a flood, The sun that sees our falling day Shall mark our sabres' deadly sway, And set that night in blood! For gold let Scott's dull regions fight, Or plunder's bloody gain, Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw To guard our country and our law, Nor shall their edge be vain. And now, while breath of Northern gale Still fans the tri-color, And footsteps of invader rude, With rapine foul and red with blood, Pollute the happy shore. Farewell, dear friends, and farewell homes, Adieu each tender tie, Resolved, we mingle in the tide, Where charging squadrons furious ride To conquer or to die! To horse! To horse! Our s