Who shall blame the social order Which gave us men as great as these? Who condemn the soil of t’ forest Which bring forth gigantic trees?
Who presume to doubt that Providence Shapes out our destinies? Fore-ordained, and long maturing, Came the famous men of old:
In the dark mines deep were driven Down the shafts to reach the gold, And the story is far longer Than the histories have told.
From Bacon down to Washington The generations passed, Great events and moving causes Were in serried order massed:
Berkeley well was first confronted, Better George the King at last! From the time of that stern ruler To our own familiar days
Long the pathway we have trodden, Hard, and devious were its ways Till at last there came the second Mightier Revolution's blaze:
Till at last there broke the tempest Like a cyclone on the sea, When the lightnings blazed and dazzled And the thunders were set free —
And riding on that whirlwind came Majestic, Robert Lee! Who — again I ask the question — Who may challenge in debate,
With any show of truthfulness, Our former social state Which brought forth more than heroes In their lives supremely great?
Not Peter, the wild Crusader, When bent upon his knee, Not Arthur and his belted knights, In the Poet's Song, could be
More earnest than those Southern men Who followed Robert Lee. They thought that they were right and this Was hammered into those
Who held that crest all drenched in blood Where the “Bloody Angle” rose. As for all else? It passes by As the idle wind that blows.
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