The
Favorite Ballads
of the
South

[1] Take Me Home . . . Raymond
[2] I Am Dying, Egypt, Dying  . . . LaHache
[3] Those Dark Eyes , , , Bishop
[4] My Mother's Voice . . . Nesbitt
[5] Carrie Vaughn . . . Cole
[6] We Have Parted . . . Nesbitt
[7] My Southern Sunny Home . . . Hays

[8] I Am Dying, Egypt, Dying . . . Armand
[9] I've No Mother Now I'm Weeping . . . Smith
[10] Those Dark Eyes . . . Armand
[11] Gipsy Dell . . . Clyde
[12] Kiss Me Before I Die, Mother . . . Ilsey
[13] By the Banks of the Red River . . . LaHache

"I Am Dying, Egypt, Dying" [1865]
[Words and Music ? by]
Armand [Armand Edward Blackmar?]

Boston: Oliver Ditson & Co., 451 Washington St.
New York: C. H. DITSON & CO.
San Francisco: McCURRIE, WEBER & CO.
Chicago: LYON & HEALY
Cincinnati: DOBMEYER & NEWALL
Phila: J. E. DITSON & CO. (Successors to Lee & Walker)
[Plate no.] 5206--3
Wehrman, Eng.
[Source: civilwardigital.com]

1. I am dying, Egypt, dying,
Ebbs the crimson lifetide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast:
Let thine arms, Oh! Queen, support me,
Hush the sobs and bow thine ear,
Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone must hear.

2. Tho’ my scarred and vet’ran legions,
Bear their eagles high no more,
Tho’ my wreck’d and scatter’d galleys,
Strew dark Actium’s fatal shore,
Tho’ no glitt’ring guards surround me,
Proud to do their master’s will,
I must perish like a Roman,
Die, the great Triumvir still.

3. Let not Ceasar’s servile minions
Mock the Lion thus laid low,
T’was no foeman’s hand that fell’d him,
’Twas his own that dealt the blow:
Dear, then pillow on thy bosom,
Ere a star shall loose its ray,
Him who drunk with thy caresses
Madly flung a world away.

4. Should the base plebian rabble
Dare assail my fame at Rome,
Where the noble spouse Octavia
Weeps within her widowed home,
Seek her, say the Gods have told me,
Altars augurs, circling wings,
That her blood with mine commingled
Yet shall mount the throne of kings.

5. And for thee, stareyed Egyptian,
Glorious sorceress of the Nile,
Light the paths to Stygian horrors
With the splendors of thy smile;
Give the Caesar crowns and arches
Let his brow, the laurel twine,
I can scorn the senate’s triumph,
Triumphing in love like thine.

6. I am dying, Egypt, dying,
Hark th’insulting foeman’s cry,
They are coming! quick, my falchion!
Let me front them ere I die.
Ah! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell,
Isis and Osirus guard thee,
Cleopatra! Rome! Farewell!