The Southern Cross

DEEM not the ravished glory thine ;
Nor think the flag shall scathless wave
Whereon thou bidd’st its presage shine,—
Land of the traitor and the slave !
God never set that holy sign
In deathless light among His stars
To make its blazonry divine
A scutcheon for thine impious wars !
And surely as the Wrong must fail
Before the everlasting Right,
So surely thy device shall pale
And shrivel in the Northern Light!
Look, where its coming splendors stream !
The red and white athwart the blue, —
While far above, the unconquered gleam
Of Freedom’s stars is blazing through !
Hark to the rustle and the sweep,
Like sound of mighty wings unfurled,
And bearing down the sapphire steep
Heaven’s hosts to help the imperilled world !
Light in the North ! Each bristling lance
Of steely sheen a promise bears ;
And all the midnight where they glance
A rosy flush of morning wears !
Yon symbol of your Southern sky
Shall surely mean but grief and loss ;
Then tremble, as ye raise on high,
In sacrilege, the Southern Cross !
O brothers ! we entreat in pain,
Take ye the unblessed emblem down !
Or purge your standard of its stain,
And join it with the Northern Crown !