Iii

Hold up the glories of thy dead; Say how thy elder children bled, And point to Eutaw's battle-bed, Carolina! Tell how the patriot's soul was tried, And what his dauntless breast defied; How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died, Carolina! Cry! till thy summons, heard at last, Shall fall like Marion's bugle-blast Re-echoed from the haunted Past, Carolina!