Unknown
Twas a goodly boon that our fathers gave,
And fits but ill to be held by the slave;
And sad were the thought, if one of our band
Should give up the hope of so fair a land.
But the hour has come, and the times that tried
The souls of men in our days of pride,
Return once more, and now for the brave,
To merit the boon which our fathers gave.
And if there be one base spirit who stands
Now, in our peril, with folded hands,
Let his grave at once in the soil be wrought,
With the sword with which his old father fought.
An oath sublime should the freeman take,
Still braving the fight and the felon stake,–
The oath that his sires brought over the sea,
When they pledged their swords to Liberty!
‘Twas a goodly oath, and In Heaven’s own sight,
They battled and bled in behalf of the right;
‘Twas hallowed by God with the holiest sign,
And seal’d with the blood of your sires and mine.
We cannot forget, and we dare not forego,
The holy duty to them that we owe,
The duty that pledges the soul of the son
To keep the freedom his sire hath won.
To suffer no proud transgressor to spoil
One right of our homes, or one foot of our soil,
One privilege pluck from our keeping, or dare
Usurp one blessing ’tis fit that we share!
Art ready for this, dear brother, who still
Keep’st Washington’s bones upon Vernon’s hill?
Art ready for this, dear brother, whose ear,
Should ever the voices of Mecklenberg hear?
Thou art ready, I know, brother nearest my heart,
Son of Eutaw and Ashley, to do thy part;
The sword and the rifle are bright in thy hands,
And waits but the word for the flashing of brands!
And thou, by Savannah’s broad valleys,–and thou
Where the Black Warrior murmurs in echoes the vow;
And thou, youngest son of our sires, who roves
Where Apala-chicola[1] glides through her groves.
Nor shall Tennessee pause, when like voice from the steep,
The great South shall summon her sons from their sleep;
Nor Kentucky be slow, when our trumpet shall call,
To tear down the rifle that hangs on her wall!
Oh, sound, to awaken the dead from their graves,
The will that would thrust us from place for our slaves,
That, by fraud which lacks courage, and plea that lacks truth,
Would rob us of right without reason or ruth.
Dost thou hearken, brave Creole, as fearless as strong,
Nor rouse thee to combat the infamous wrong?
Ye hear it, I know, in the depth of your souls,
Valiant race, through whose valley the great river rolls.
At last ye are wakened, all rising at length,
In the passion of pride, in the fulness of strength;
And now let the struggle begin which shall see,
If the son, like the sire, is fit to be free.
We are sworn to the State, from our fathers that came,
To welcome the ruin, but never the shame;
To yield not a foot of our soil, nor a right,
While the soul and the sword are still fit for the fight.
Then, brothers, your hands and your hearts, while we draw
The bright sword of right, on the charter of law;–
Here the record was writ by our fathers, and here,
To keep, with the sword, that old record, we swear.
Let those who defile and deface it, be sure,
No longer their wrong or their fraud we endure;
We will scatter in scorn every link of the chain,
With which they would fetter our free souls in vain.
How goodly and bright were its links at the first!
How loathly and foul, in their usage accurst!
We had worn it in pride while it honor’d the brave,
But we rend it, when only grown fit for the slave.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem works as a call-to-action framed through memory, inheritance, and the emotional weight of ancestry. It speaks from inside a culture that sees itself bound to the past by obligation rather than sentiment, and it uses that sense of duty as its main argument for war. The poem is not subtle, but the lack of subtlety is part of its purpose. It is trying to stir people, not analyze them, and it relies on simple oppositions: freemen versus slaves, courage versus shame, action versus passivity.
Much of the poem’s force comes from the way it invokes the founders, the “sires,” and the imagined purity and resolve of earlier generations. Their “boon” is something nearly sacred, and the poet repeatedly insists it can only be honored through continued conflict. The message is that the present generation proves its worth only by repeating the sacrifices of the past. There is no room for doubt, hesitation, or debate; the only unforgivable act is standing aside. The tone assumes the listener already shares these values and only needs a push to remember them.
The poem also functions as a regional rallying piece. It calls out specific places—Vernon, Savannah, Eutaw, Kentucky, Tennessee—and treats each as a test of identity. If you belong to that place, you must answer the call. This turns geography into a kind of moral ledger. The names of rivers and valleys are used the same way the names of ancestors are used: as reminders of what one owes. The emotional pressure is heavy, and it becomes clear the poem sees unity not as broad national cohesion but as loyalty to a certain cultural lineage.
The sections about “rights,” “soil,” and “privileges” show how the poem links personal liberty to collective resistance. What counts as freedom here is very specific, and the threat is described as both external and dishonest—“fraud which lacks courage” and “plea that lacks truth.” The poem treats this threat as insidious rather than heroic, which helps justify the anger that follows. It presents the coming struggle not as conquest but as necessary self-defense.
The repeated references to slavery expose the historical moment and the ideology behind the poem. It makes clear who is included in its definition of “freedom” and who is not. For modern readers, this is one of the most striking, unsettling parts of the poem. The poem’s language insists on liberty while defending a system built on the denial of liberty. That contradiction is never addressed; instead, the poem treats the preservation of slavery as part of preserving inherited rights. This tension is central to how the poem works and why it belongs firmly in the category of wartime propaganda rather than reflective meditation.
Despite its single-minded argument, the poem is effective at capturing the emotional atmosphere of a society preparing for conflict. There is urgency in the repeated pledges and oaths, and a sense of tightening circles around a shared identity. The closing lines return to the idea of chains, first welcomed in pride and now rejected as corrupt. The metaphor signals a shift from admiration to revolt, reinforcing that the poem sees the coming war as a necessary break from a dishonored political order.
As a whole, the poem stands as an example of how verse can be used to mobilize rather than to question. It gives insight into how people justified the coming violence to themselves and each other. It is valuable not because it represents universal ideals, but because it reflects the mindset of a specific moment in American history when loyalty, heritage, and political fear combined to create a powerful push toward war.