Scarce yestermorn it was since he had come

Scarce yestermorn it was since he had come, Languid and faint from wounds and bitter woe, Unto the portals of that Southern home, Which, like the Southern heart, can ne’er forego The sight of wretchedness, even in a foe, A mortal foe, when hapless Pity calls The generous heart unconsciously to show The claims of mercy ere the mandate falls, Or soothe the shriveled heart that suffering woe enthralls.