‘Stonewall’

Shod with the wingèd shoes of Hermes,

Sped on by the swiftness

Of Aeolian winds,

Fighting with the fierceness of Ares,

You turned back all your foes,

Hurled them from homeland.

Not out of hatred for them,

But because of the love you bore

For ’Ginia and the Lord.

Too soon you were taken,

Before battle sounds subsided.

Hearts in Dixie were too much darkened,

Heavens’ Lord would not bestow the laurel wreath,

Sent for your soul after stunning victory.

Woe to us!  The South as Troy is fallen!

After so many careless years,

Thin has grown the mem’ry of you,

Cold the love of kinsmen for their chief.

More like a figure from

A long-forgotten tale

You seem than a member

Of the Southern family,

Than flesh and blood lying in a grave.

But your life and deeds

Have more substance than a dream.

And we know it is true,

For the angry ones your tomb

And bones would desecrate

If given but a chance.

Our King David, bright in virtue

And in battle deeds, you were not allowed

To finish the defeat of Apostate Saul

And the Philistines during your days

On earth.  The oppressor remains,

For our hearts still are hardened.

Unworthy of you then,

How much more so now!

But may the God of all mercy

Grant us repentance quickly

And raise up another like yourself,

By stories of your life bestirred

To lead this captive people to freedom,

And into radiant halls of holiness,

Forever.

--

Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!