Poems (1893) by John Greenleaf Whittier
Author: Unknown
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Making of America Books Basic | Boolean | Proximity |

Bibliographic | Search History UMDL Texts home U of M login View bookbag your bookbag has 0 items

Home Search BrowseHelp

list of all pages | add to bookbag

Title:Poems by John G. Whittier.

Author:Whittier, John Greenleaf, 1807-1892.

Availability:These pages may freely searched and displayed.

Permission must be received for subsequent distribution in print or electronically. Please contact umdl-info@umich.edu for more information.

Print Source:Poems by John G. Whittier.

Whittier, John Greenleaf, 1807-1892.

Vignette ed. …: viii p., 1 L., 405 p. incl. front., illus. 20 cm.

New York,

F. A. Stokes co.

[c1893]

Page i view page image

I I

Page ii view page image

AND THF PASSING SHADES )OF SADNESS WEARING EVEN A WELCOME GUISE. Page 262.

Page iii view page image

oems BY John G. Whittier VIGN_ETTE EDITION. WITH ONE HUNDRED NEW ILL US

TRA TIONS BY William A. McCullough NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

PUBLISHERS I:

Page iv view page image

-‘, Copprtgbt, 1S93, *. VV reZerick E. StokeR Compang.

Page v view page image

CONTENTS. MOGG MEGONE. Part 1. Part I I. Part 111. …. I ~ 1 15 . 30 PAGE

THE BRIDAL OF PENNACOOK.. I. The Merrimack ii. The Bashaba. iiil. The Daughter Iv. The Wedding A. The New Home vli. At Pennacook vui. The Departure v,II. Song of Indian Women LEGENDARY. The Merrimack The Norsemen Cassandra Southwick Funeral Tree of the Sokokis St. John Pentucket The Familist’s Hymn The Fountain The Exiles The New Wife and the Old VOICES OF

FREEDOM. ~ . …… 37 *… 41 …. 43 ~……. 46 ……..53

53 ..55 * 57 … I. 59 ~……. 61 64 . ~…68 …. * 73 .

.. 77 I81 . 84 86 v~……90 ~…… 98 Toussaint L’Ouverture *1 The Slave-Ships…… Stanzas. Our Fellow-Countrvmen ill Chains.3 The Yankee Girl…. to W. L. Garrison. Song of the Free The Hunters of Men Clerical Oppressors The Christian Slave Stanzas for the Times. 1 Lines, written on reading Governor Ritner’s Message of 1836 .. 103 . log .. 113 . i i 6 ..

ii8 …g …21 . 123 .. 124 . - 27 .. 129

Page vi view page image

CnLenls. PAGE Lines on Reading the” Pastoral Letter’”……. 13 Lines, written for the Meeting of the Antislavery Society, at Chatham Street Chapel, N. Y., 1834…………. 134 Lines, written for the Celebration of the Third Anniversary of British Eman cipation, 1837…………….. 136

Lines, written for the Anniversary Celebration of the First of August, at Mil ton, 1846………… 137 The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother to her Daughters sold into Southern Bondage………….. 139 The Moral Warfare. 141 The World’s Convention 142 New Hampshire……………147

The New Year: addressed to the Patrons of the Pennsylvania Freeman. 148

Massachusetts to Virginia……. 154 The Relic.. 59 The Branded Hand. i.

16i Texas…. 163 To Faneuil Hall. i6.. 6 To Massachusetts 167 The Pine-Tree…………. 169 Lines, suggested by a Visit to the City of Washington in the 12th Month of 1845. 170 Lines, from a Letter to a Young Clerical Friend.. 174 Yorktown… 175 Lines, written in the Book of a Friend…. 177 The Curse of the Charter-Breakers.. 182 The Slaves of Martinique… 184 The Crisis…. i188 MISCELLANEOUS. The Knight of St.

John The Holy Land Palestine Ezekiel The Wife of Manoah to her Husband The Cities of the Plain The Crucifixion.. The Star of Bethlehem Hymns.. The Female Martyr. The Frost Spirit. The Vaudois Teacher. The Call of the Christian My Soul and I To a Friend, on her Return from Europe The Angel of Patience Follen To the Reformers of England The Quaker of the Olden Time ….* 191 …*. ~ 193 ~.. 195 197 .200 * 203 . 205 206 . 208

212 . 214 215 . 218 219 . 226 228 .. 229 232 234 vi

Page vii view page image

Co;ztents. PAGE The Reformer 235 The Prisoner for Debt………………

239 Lines, written on reading several Pamphlets published by Clergymen against the Abolition of the Gallows….. 24I The Human Sacrifice.. 243

Democracy…… 248 Randolph of Roanoke…..25I To Ronge…. 254 Chalkley Hall………255 ToJohn Pierpont………. 257 The Cypress-Tree of Ceylon…….. 258 A Dream of Summer……. 260 To…….262 ~eggett’s Monument……….. 266 Leggett’s Monument…..~~~~*. 262 SONGS OF LABOR.

A\D OTHER POEMS. V~…. 268 The Ship-Builders 269 The.Shoemakers. *

272 The Drovers 274 The.Fihermen* 277 ~Y he Huskers 280 The CornSong-..282

Th 1 umbermen 284 M1ISCELLANEOUS. The Angels of Buena Vista Forgiveness.. Barclay of Ury What the Voice Said…… To Delaware -

Worship.. The Demon of the Study The Pumpkin Extract from’A New England Legend’ Hampton Beach Lines, written on hearing of the Death of Silas Wright of New Yo Lines, accompanying Manuscripts presented to a Friend The Reward Raphael Lucy Hooper. Channing To the Memory of Charles B. Storrs Lines on the Death of S. Oliver Torrey A Lament Daniel Wheeler…. Daniel Neall -… o To my Friend on the Death of his Sister * Gone . 290 293

. 293 297 * 299 299 3~4 304 305 308 310 313 314 316 * 318 -

321 * 323 . 325 326 33~ 33~ * 332 .i. ~/Dedication The Ship-Builders The Shoemakers The Drovers The Fishermen tIhe Huskers The CornSong The L umbermen….

Page viii view page image

viii Contenis. PAGE 333 ~~~~~335 337 34I * ~~~~343 ~~~~~345 346

* ~~347 *348 * ~350 352 *353 * ~~~~354 .356 *

~~~357 359 360 .36~ 36~ *363 365 . 366 * 37I 379 * ~~~383 385 387 *

* 39 .392 394 *~ 397 The Lake-side The Hill-top - On receiving an Fagle’s Quill from Ltake Superior Memories The Legend of St. Mark The Well of Loch Maree. To my Sister.. Autumn Thoughts Calef in Boston.-1692 To Pius IX. -. Elliott. Ichabod! - - The Christian Tourists. TheMen of Old The Peace Convention at Brussels The Wish of To-Day Our State All’s Well..

Seed-Time and Harvest ToA. K. The Unquiet Sleeper Metacomr The Murdered Lady The Weird Gathering-. - The Black Fox The White Mountains The Indian’s Tale The Spectre Ship. The Spectre Warriors The Last Norridgewv ock. The Aerial Omens Notes. - vii Cont’ents.

Page ix view page image

PROEM. I LOVE the old mieloclious lays W’hich softly melt the ages through, The songs of Spenser’s gol(len (lays, Arcad(lian SidclneyN’s silvery phrase, SpI)rinkling our noon of time faith freshest morning dew.

Yet, vainly in my quiet hours To breathe their mairvellous notes I try; I feel themn, as the leaves and flowers In silence feel the dewvy shooters, And drink with glad still lips the blessing of the sky. The rigor of a frozen clime, The harshness of an untaught ear, The jarring words of one whose rhyme Beat often Labor’s hurriedl time, Or Duty’s rugged march through stormn and strife, are here. Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace, No rounded art the lack supplies; Unskilled the subtle lines to trace, Or softer shades of Nature’s face, I iewv her common forms faith unanointed eyes. Nor mine the seer like power to show The secrets of the heart and mind; To drop the plummet-line below Our common world of joy and woe, A more intense despair or brighter hope to find. Yet here at least an earnest sense Of human right and weal is shown; A hate of tyranny intense, And hearty in its vehemence, As if my brother’s pain and sorrow were my own. O Freedom! if to me belong Noi mighty MIilton’s gift (1div\ine, Nor MIarvell’s A\ it andl gracefull song, Still with a lo-e as deep and strong As theirs, I lay, like tihem, myn test gifts on thy shrine!

:\:I,.SI,,‘R’,,Tthl Imo., I847.

Page x view page image

* .

Page 1 view page image

POEMS BY OHN G. VWHITTIER. MOGG MEGONE. [The story of MOGG MEGONE has been considered by the author only as a framework for sketches of the scenery of New England, and of its early inhabitants. In portraying the Indian character, he has followed, as closely as his story would admit, the rough but natural delineations of Church, Mayhew, Charlevoix and Roger Williams; and in so doing he has necessarily discarded much of the romance which poets and novelists have thrown around the ill-fated red man.] PART I. WHO
stands on that cliff, like a figure of stone, Unmoving and tall in the light of the sky, Where the spray of the cataract sparkles on high, Lonely and sternly, save Mogg Megone?i Close to the verge of the rock is he, While beneath him the Saco its work is doing, Hurrying down to its grave, the sea, And slow through the rock its pathway hewing! Far down, through the mist of the falling river, Which rises up like an incense ever, The splintered points of the crags are seen, With water howling and vexed between, While the scooping whirl of the pool beneath Seems an open throat, with its granite teeth! But Mogg Megone never trembled yet Wherever his eye or his foot was set. He is watchful: each form in the moonlight dim, Of rock or of tree, is seen of him:

Page 2 view page image

ifogg Megonze. WHO STANDS ON THAT CLIFF, LIKE A FIGURE OF STONE. He listens; each sound from afar is caught, The faintest shiver of leaf and limb: But he sees not the waters, which foam and fret, Whose moonlit spray has his moccasin wet, And the roar of their rushing, he hears it not. The moonlight, through the open bough Of the gnarl’d beech, whose naked root Coils like a serpent at his foot, Falls, checkered, on the Indian’s brow.

His head is bare, save only where Waves in the wind one lock of hair, Reserved for him, whoe’er he be, More mighty than Megone in strife, When breast to breast and knee to knee, Above the fallen warrior’s life Gleams, quick and keen, the scalping-knife. Megone hath his knife and hatchet and gun, And his gaudy and tasselled blanket on: 2

Page 3 view page image

Mogg Megone. His knife hath a handle with gold inlaid, And magic words on its polished blade,‘T was the gift of Castine2 to Mogg Megone, For a scalp or twain from the Yengees torn: His gun was the gift of the Tarrantine, And Modocawando’s wives had strung The brass and the beads, which tinkle and shine On the polished breech, and broad bright line Of beaded wampum around it hung. What seeks Megone? His foes are near, Grey Jocelyn’s’ eye is never sleeping, And the garrison lights are burning clear, Where Phillips‘4 men their watch are keeping. Let him hie him away through the dank river fog, Never rustling the boughs nor displacing the rocks, For the eyes and the ears which are watching for Mogg Are keener than those of the wolf or the fox. He starts, there’s a rus tle among the leaves: Another, the click of his gun is heard! A footstep, is it the step of Cleaves, With Indian blood on his English sword? Steals Harmon5 down from the sands of York, With hand of iron and foot of cork? Has Scamman, versed in Indian wile, For vengeance left his vine-hung isle?’ Hark! at that whistle, soft and low, How lights the eye of Mogg Megone! A smile gleams o’er his “Boon welcome, Joh THE HUNTED OUTLAW, BONYTHON. Out steps, with cautious foot and slow, And quick, keen glances to and fro, The hunted outlaw, Bonvthon!7 A low, lean, swarthy man is he, 3

Page 4 view page image

4 Mo Afegone. W\ith blanket-garb and buskined knee, And naught of English fashion on; For he hates the race from whence he sprung, And he couches his words in the Indian tongue. “Hush, let the Sachem’s voice be weak The water-rat shall hear him speak,The owl shall whoop in the white man’s ear, That Mogg MNegone, with his scalps, is here!” He pauses, dark, over cheek and brow, A flush, as of shame, is stealing now: “Sachem!” he says, “let me have the land, WVhich stretches away upon either hand, As far about as my feet can strav In the half of a gentle summer’s day, From the leaping brook8 to the Saco river,And the fair-haired girl, thouhastsought of me, Shall sit in the Sachem’s wigwamn, and be The wife of Mogg Megone forever.” There’s a sudden light in the Indian’s glance, A moiment’s trace of p)owerful feeling Of love or triumph, or both perchance, Ov-er his proud, calm features stealing. She words of my father are very good He shall have the land, and water, and wood And he who harms the Sagamore John, Shall feel the knife of Mogg Megone; But the fawn of the Yengees shall sleep on my breast, And the bird of the clearing shall sing in my nest.” “But, father!” and the Indian’s hand Falls gently on the white man’s arm, And with a smile as shrewdly bland As the deep voice is slow and calm,“W\here is my father’s singing-bird, The sunny eye, and sunset hair? I know I have my father’s word, And that his word is good and fair; But will my father tell me where Mlegone shall go and look for his bride?For he sees her not by her father’s side.” The dark, stern eye of Bonython Flashes over the features of Mogg Megone, In one of those glances which search within; But the stolid calm of the Indian alone -J-T(,gg Meg o n e. 4

Page 5 view page image

Mogg M egone. Remains where the trace of emotion has been. “Does the Sachem doubt? Let him go with me, And the eyes of the Sachem his bride shall see.”’ Cautious and slow, with pauses oft, And watchful eyes and whispers soft, The twain are stealing through the wood, Leaving the downward-rushing flood, Whose deep and solemn roar behind Grows fainter on the evening wind. THE OWL ON HIS LEAFY CRADLE SWUNG. Hark!-is that the angry howl Of the wolf, the hills among? Or the hooting of the owl, On his leafy cradle swung?Quickly glancing, to and fro, Listening to each sound they go Round the columns of the pine, Indistinct, in shadow, seeming Like some old and pillared shrine; With the soft and white moonshine, Round the foliage-tracery shed Of each column’s branching head, For its lamps of worship gleaming! And the sounds awakened there, In the pine leaves fine and small, Soft and sweetly musical, By the fingers of the air, For the anthem’s dying fall Lingering round some temple’s wall!m 5

Page 6 view page image

6 og”[ f Af,Qoloe. Niche and cornice round anti round \Vailing like the ghost of sound Is not Nature’s wvorship thus, Ceaseless ev er, going on?

Hath it not a voice for us In tne thunder, or the tone Of the leaf-harl) faint and small, Speaking to the unsealed ear \NVords of blended love and fear, Of the mighty Soul of all? Naught had the t\vain of thoughts like these As they \round along through the crowded trees, \Where never had rung the axeman’s stroke On the gnarled trunk of the rough-barked oak;Climbing the dead tree’s mossy log, Breaking the mesh of the bramble fine, Turning aside the \ ild grapevine, And lightly crossing the quaking bog \Vhose surface shakes at the leap of the frog, And out of whose l)ools the ghostly fog Creeps into the chill moonshine! Yet, even that Indian’s ear had heard The preaching of the Holy \Vord Sanchekanitacket’s isle of sand \as once his father’s hunting land, \Where zealous Hiacoomes’”

stood,  The wild apostle of the woodl, Shook from his soul the fear of harm, And trampled on the Po\\aw’s charm; Until the \vizarcl’s curses hung Suspendled on his palsying tongue, And the fierce \xarr-ior, grim and tall, Trembled before the forest Paul! A cottage hidden in the wood, Red through its seams a light is glowing, On rock and bough and tree-trunk rude, A narrow lustre thro\ing. \Who’s there?” a clear, firm X oice demands; “Hold, Ruth,‘t is I, the Sagamore!” Quick, at the summons, hasty hands Unclose the bolted door; And on the outlaw’s daughter shine The flashes of the kindled pine 6

Page 7 view page image

Jlong A~egolie. Tall and erect the maiden stands, Like some young priestess of the \lood, The freeborn child of Solitude, Ani bearing still the w\ ild and rude, Yet noble trace of Nature’s handls. Her dark bro\wn cheek has caught its stain More from the sunshine than the rain; Yet, -here her long fair hair is partinig, A p)ure \ hite bro\w into light is stating,; And, -here the folds of her blanket sex er, Are a neck and bosolm as \ hite as e-er The foam \-rieaths rise on the leal)ing ri\er.

But in the con-ulsi\ e quiv\er and grip Of the muscles around her bloodless lip, There is something painful and sad( to see; And her e-e has a glance more sternly \wild Than e\en that of a forest-child In its fearless anld untamed freedom should be. Yet, seldom in hall or court are seen So queenly a form and so noble a mien, As freely and slmiling she welcomes them there,Her outla\wed sire and Mogg Megone: “Pray, father, ho\v does thy huntilng fare? And, Sachem, say,-does Scammaii \vear, In spite of thy promise, a scalp) of his own?” flur-ied and light is the maiden’s tone But a fearful mieaning lurks wvithin Her glance, as it questions the eye of Megone, An aw\ful meaning of guilt and sin! ‘IThe Indlian hath opened his blanket, and there Hangs a human scalp by its long ldanpl) hair! With hand upraised, \vith (tuick draw\n breath, She meets that ghastly signI of dleath. In one long, glassy, spectral stare The enlarging eye is fastened there, As if that mesh of p)ale brow\n hair Had powner to change at sight alone, E-en as the fearful locks \which wound MIedusa’s fatal forehead round, The gazer into stone. With such a look Herodias read The features of the bleeding headl, So looked the mad MNoor on his dead, Or the young Cenci as she stoodl, O’er-dlabblcld faith a father’s blo(,d! 7

Page 8 view page image

THE INDIAN HATI OPE.NED HIS BLANKET.

Page 9 view page image

,Ifo~g, -Zeg()eloe. Look!-feeling melts that frozen glance, It moves that marble countenance, As if at once within her strove Pity with shame, and hate with love. The Past recalls its joy and pain, Old memories rise before her brain,The lips which love’s embraces met, The hand her tears of parting wet, The voice whose pleading tones beguiled The pleased ear of the forest-child,And tears she may no more repress Reveal her lingering tenderness. 0, woman wronged can cherish hate More deep and dark than manhood may; But when the mockery of Fate Hath left Revenge its chosen way, And the fell curse, which years have nursed, Full on the spoiler’s head hath burst,  WVhen all her wrong, and shame, and pain, Burns fiercely on his heart and brain, Still lingers something of the spell Which bound her to the traitor’s bosom, Still, midst the vengeful fires of hell, Some flowers of old affection blossom. John Bonython’s eyebrows together are drawn With a fierce expression of wrath and scorn,He hoarsely whispers, ” Ruth, beware! Is this the time to be playing the fool,Crying over a paltry lock of hair, Like a love-sick girl at school?Curse on it!-an Indian can see and hear: Away, and prepare our evening cheer!” How keenly the Indian is watching now Her tearful eye and her varying brow, With a serpent eye, which kindles and burns, Like a fiery star in the upper air: On sire and daughter his fierce glance turns: “Has my old white father a scalp to spare? For his young one loves the pale brown hair Of the scalp of an English dog far more Than Mogg Megone, or his wigwam floor; Go,-Mogg is wise: he will keep his land,  And Sagamore John, when he feels with his hand, Shall miss his scalp where it grew before.” 9

Page 10 view page image

Mogg Megone. The moment’s gust of grief is gone, The lip is clenched, the tears are still,God pity thee, Ruth Bonython! With what a strength of will Are nature’s feelings in thy breast, As with an iron hand, repressed! And how, upon that nameless woe, Quick as the pulse can come and go, While shakes the unsteadfast knee, and yet The bosom heaves, the eye is wet,Has thy dark spirit power to stay The heart’s wild current on its way? And wNhence that baleful strength of guile. Which over that still working brow And tearful eye and cheek can throw The mockery of a smile? Warned by her father’s blackening frown, With one strong effort crushing down Grief, hate, remorse, she meets again The savage murdlerer’s sullen gaze, And scarcely look or tone betrays How the heart strives beneath its chain. “Is the Sachem angry, angry with Ruth, Because she cries with an ache ill her tooth,“o WNhich should make a Sagamore jump and cry, And look about with a woman’s eye? No,-Ruth will sit in the Sachem’s door And braid the mats for his wigwam floor, And broil his fish and tender fawn, And weave his wampum, and grind his corn,For she lo\es the brave and the wise, and none Are braver and waiser than MIogg Megone!” The Indian’s brow is clear once more: With grasve, calm face, and half-shut eye, He sits upon the wigwam floor, And watches Ruth go by, Intent upon her household care; And ever and anon, the while, Or on the maiden, or her fare, WNVhich smokes in grateful promise there, Bestows his quiet smile. Ah, Mogg Mlegone!- what dreams are thine, But those which lo-ve’s own fancies dress, The sum of Indian happiness! A wigwam, where the warm sunshine Io

Page 11 view page image

Mogg N’egone. Looks in among the groves of pine,  A stream, where, round thy light canoe, The trout and salmon dart in view, And the fair girl, before thee now, Spreading thy mat with hand of snow Or plying, in the dews of morn, Her hoe amidst th ratch of corn “IS THE SACHEM ANGR,-ANGRY

WITH RUTH?” Or offering up, at eve, to thee, Thy birchen dish of hominy!

From the rude board of Bonython, Venison and suckatash have gone,For long these dwellers of the wood Have felt the gnawing want of food. I I

Page 12 view page image

12 MogMeo But untasted of Ruth is the frugal cheer,With head averted, yet ready ear, She stands by the side of her austere sire, Feeding, at times, the unequal fire With the yellow knots of the pitch-pine tree, Whose flaring light, as they kindle, falls On the cottage-roof, and its black log walls, And over its inmates three. Fromn Sagamore Bonython’s hunting flask The fire-wvater burns at the lip of Megone: “Will the Sachem hear what his father shall ask? Will he make his mark, that it may be known, On the speaking-leaf, that he gives the land, From the Sachem’s own, to his father’s hand?” The fire-water shines in the Indian’s eyes, As he rises, the white man’s bidding to do: \Vuttamuttata-weekan!1 Mogg is wise, For the water he drinks is strong and new,Mogg’s heart is great!-\will he shut his hand, When his father asks for a little land?” With unsteady fingers, the Indian has drawn On the parchment the shape of a hunter’s bow, “Boon waater,- boon water, Sagamore John! Wuttamuttata, weekan! our hearts will grow!” He drinks yet deeper,-he mutters low,He reels on his bear-skin to and fro,His head falls down on his naked breast,He struggles, and sinks to a drunken rest. “Humph-drunk as a beast!”-and Bonython’s brow Is darker than ever with evil thought”The fool has signed his warrant; but how And when shall the deed be wrought? Speak, Ruth! why, what the devil is there, To fix thy gaze in that empty air?Speak, Ruth! by my soul, if I thought that tear, Which shames thyself and our purpose here, W’ere shed for that cursed and pale-faced dog, Whose green scalp hangs from the belt of Mogg, And whose beastly soul is in Satan’s keeping,This-this!”-he dashes his hand upon The rattling stock of his loaded gun, “Should send thee with him to do thy weeping!” “Father!”-the eye of Bonython Sinks at that low, sepulchral tone, ,VoA,g AJre,-one. 1 2

Page 13 view page image

-~~~~~Yggifgn.1 Hollow and deep, as it were spoken By the unmoving tongue of death,  Or from some statue’s lips had broken, A sound without a breath! “Father! -nmy life I value less Than yonder fool his gaudy dress; And how it ends it matters not, By heart-break or by rifle-shot; But spare awhile the scoff and threat,  Our business is not finished yet.” “True, true, my girl,- I only meant To draw up again the bow unbent. Harm thee, my Ruth! I only sought To frighten off thy gloomy thought; Come,-let’s be friends!” He seeks to clasp His daughter’s cold, damp hand in his. Ruth startles from her father’s grasp, As if each nerve and muscle felt, Instinctively, the touch of guilt, Through all their subtle sympathies. He points her to the sleeping Mogg: \What shall be done with yonder (log?

Scamman is dead, and revenge is thine,The deed is signed and the land is mine; And this drunken fool is of use no more, Save as thy hopeful bridegroom, and sooth, ‘T were Christian mercy to finish him, Ruth, Now, while he lies like a beast on our floor, If not for thine, at least for his sake, Rather than let the poor dog awake To drain my flask, and claim as his bride Such a forest de\ il to run by his side,Such a \Wetuomanit”2
as thou wouldst make!” He laughs at his jest. Hush-what is there? The sleeping Indian is striving to rise, With his knife in his hand, and glaring eyes!“Wagh!-Mogg will have the pale-face’s hair, For his knife is sharp, and his fingers can help The hair to pull and the skin to peel,Let him cry like a woman and twist like an eel, The great Captain Scamman must lose his scalp! And Ruth, when she sees it, shall dance with Mogg.” His eyes are fixed,-but his lips draw in,With a low, hoarse chuckle, and fiendish grin, And he sinks again, like a senseless log. 3-1[ogg -ZY’egone. 13

Page 14 view page image

‘4o,,,rg -Jill-one. Ruth does not speak, she does not stir; But she gazes down on the murderer, \NThose broken and d(Ireamful slumbers tell Too much for her ear of that deed( of hell. She sees the knife, with its slaughter red, And the (lark fingers clenching the bear-skin bed! \What thoughts of horror and nmadness w\vhirl Through the burning brain of that fallen girl!

John Bonython lifts his gun to his eye, Its muzzle is close to the Indian’s ear,But he drops it again. “Some one may be nigh, And I would not that even the wolves shouldl hear.” He draws his knife from its deer-skin belt,Its edge with his fingers is slow\ly felt; Kneeling down on one knee, by the Inlian’s side, From his throat he ol)ens the blanket wide; And twice or thrice he feebly essays A trembling hand wvith the knife to raise. ” I cannot,” he mutters,-” (lid he not saxve MI life from a cold and wintry grave, \hen the storm came down from Agioochook, And the north-xwindcl howvledl, and the tree-tops shook, And I st:rove, in the drifts of the rushing snow, Till my knees grew weak and I could not go, And I felt the cold to my vitals creel), And my heart’s blood stiffen, and pulses sleep! I cannot strike him Ruth Bonython! In the Devil’s name, tell me what’s to be done?” 0, when the soul, once pure and high, Is stricken down from Virtue’s sky, As, with the downcast star of morn, Some gems of light are with it drawn, And, through its night of darkness, play Some tokens of its primal day, Some lofty feelings linger still, The strength to dare, the nerve to meet Whatever threatens with defeat Its all-indomitable will!But lacks the mean of mind and heart, Though eager for the gains of crime, Oft, at his chosen place and time, The strength to bear his evil part; And, shielded by this very Vice, Escapes from Crime by Cowardice. 14

Page 15 view page image

)Agg Mcgone. 15 Ruth starts erect, with bloodshot eye, And lips drawn tight across her teeth, Show ing their locked embrace beneath, In the red firelighlt:-“‘Iogg must die Give me the knife!” The outla\v turns, Shuddering in heart and limb, away,But, fitfully there, the hearth-tire burns, And he sees on the wall strange shadows play. A lifted arm, a tremulous )bladcle, Are dimly pictured in light and shadle, Plunginlg cdo-n in the darkness. Hark, that cry Again -and again-he sees it fall, That slhado\wy arm down the lighted wall He hears quick footsteps-a shape flits by The door on its rusted hinges creaks: “Ruth-l-daughter Ruth!” the outlaw shrieks. But no sound comes back, he is standing alone By the mangled corse of MIogg Megone! PART II. ‘T IS morning over Norridgewock,  On tree and wigw-am, \ave and rock. Bathed in the autumnal sunshine, stirred At intervals by breeze and bird, And \wearing all the hues which glo\ In heaven’s ow\n )ur-e and perfect bow, That glorious p)icture of the air, \Vhich summer’s light-robed angel forms On the dark ground of fading storms, \Hiith pencil dip)edl in sunbeams there,And, stretching out, on either hand, O’er all that widle and unshorn land, Till, c\eary of its gorgeousness, The aching and the dazzled eve Rests, gladdened, on the calm blue sky, Slumbers the mighty wAilde-rness! The oak, upon the windy hill, Its dark green burthen upward heaves  The hemlock broods above its rill, Its cone-like foliage darker still, \While the white birch’s graceful stem And the rough walnut-bough receives The sun upon their crowded leaves, Each colored like a topaz gem, And the tall maple wears with them The coronal, which autumn gives, -3fol-9 Negone. 1 5

Page 16 view page image

i6 YJo iIfeone. The brief, bright sign of ruin near, The hectic of a dy ing )‘ear! The hermit )-irest, vwho lingers now On the Bald Mlountain’s shrubless brow\, The gray and thundler-smitten pile Which marks afar the D)esert Isle,‘3 WNhile gazing on the scene below, May half forget the d(reams of home, That nightly with his slumbers come,The tranquil skies of sunny France, The peasant’s harvest sonig and dance, ‘The vines around the hillsides wreathing The soft airs midst their clusters breathiing, The vwings which dipped, the stars which shoine WN’ithin thy bosom, blue Garonne! And round the Abbey’s shadow\ed \vall, At morning spring and even-fall, Swveet voices in the still air singing,  The chant of many a holy hylmn, The solemn bell of vesp)ers ringing,And hallo\ed torchlight falling dim On pictured saint and seraphim! For here beneath him lies unrolled, Bathed deep in morning’s flood of gold, A vision gorgeous as the dream Of the beatified may seem, WNhen, as his Church’s legends say, Borne upward in ecstatic bliss, The rapt enthusiast soars away Unto a brighter world than this: A mortal’s glimpse beyond the pale,A momentt’s lifting of the veil! Far eastward o’er the lovely bay, Penobscot’s clustered wigwams lay; And gently from that Indian town The verdant hillside slopes adown, To where the sparkling waters play Upon the yellow sands below; And shooting round the winding shores Of narrow capes, and isles which lie Slumbering to ocean’s lullaby,With birchen boat and glancing oars, The red men to their fishing go; While from their planting ground is borne The treasure of the golden corn, i6 J-,fo,-g Tfe,-one.

Page 17 view page image

Is BORNE THIE TREASURE OF THE GOLDEN COR.,

Page 18 view page image

Is Mog MCIcolne. By laughing girls, -hose dark eyes glow \Vild through the locks \ hich o’er them flow. The wi-‘inkled sclua\, \ hose toil is done, Sits on her bear-skin in the sun, \V’atching,- the huLsker-s, faith a smile For each full ear w\hich swells the pile And the old chief, who nexermore May bend the bo\ or 1)ull the oar, Smokes gra\vely in his wAig\am door, Or slow\ly shapes, \ ith axe of stone, The arro\-head(l from flint and bone. Beneath the \west\ard-cl turning eye A thousand \-oolded islands lie,  Gems of the w\ aters!- ith each hue Of brightness set in ocean’s blue. Each bears aloft its tuft of trees Touched by the ptencil of the frost, And, with the motion of each breeze, A moment seen,-a moment lost, Changing and blent, confused and tossed; The l)righter w\ith the darker crossed, TIheir thousand tints of beauty glow!

Do\ n in the restless \waxes below, And tremble in the suInny skies, As if, from w\aving bough to bough, Flitted the birds of paradise. There sleep Placentia’s group), and there Pere Breteaux mariks the hour of p)rayer; And there, beneath the sea-\orn cliff, On -\hich the Father’s hut is seen, The Indian stays his rocking skiff, And peers the hemnlock-boughs between, Half trembling, as he seeks to look Upon the Jesuit’s Crioss and Book.“4 There, gloomily against the sky The Dark Isles rear their summits high And Desert Rock, abrupt and bare, Lifts its gray turrets in the air,Seen from afar, like some stronghold Built bv the ocean kings of old; And, faint as smoke-wreath white and thin, Swells in the north X ast Katahdin: And, wandering from its marshy feet, The broad Penobscot comes to meet And mingle with his own bright bay. Slow sweep his dark and gathering floods, I 8

Page 19 view page image

E1gg,,Ifcfronoi’e. Arched over by the ancient \voods, \Vhich Time, in those dim solitudes, \Wielding the dlull axe of Decay, Alone hath e\er shorn a\a-. Not thus, wvithin the woods w\hich hide The beauty of thy azure title, And \aith their falling timbers block Thv broken currents, Kennebeck! Gazes the white man on the wreck Of the down-trodden Norridgewock,In one lone village hemmed( at length, In battle shorn of half their strength, Turned, like the panther in his lair, \With his fast-flowing life-blood \iet, For one last struggle of despair, \Wounded and faint, but tameless yet! Unreaped, upon the pl)anting lands, The scant, neglected harvest stands No shout is there, no dance,- no song: The aspect of the very child Scowls faith a meaning sad and wild Of bitterness anld wnrong. The almost infant Nori-idge\ock Essays to lift the tomaha\wk k And plucks his fathler’s knife a%\ay, To mimic, in his frightful )lay-, The scalping of an English foe \VWreathes on his lip a horrid smile, Burns, like a slnake’s, his small eye, w\hile Some bough or sapling meets his blow. The fisher, as he drops his line, Starts, when he sees the hazels q(uiver Along the margin of the river, Looks upl) and ldown the rippling tide, And grasps the firelock at his sidle. For Bomazee,‘5 from Tacconock Has sent his runners to Norri(lgewock, \Vith tidings that Moulton an(l Harmion of York Far up the ri\ er ha-e come: They-have left their boats, they have entered the wood. And filled the depths of the solitude \With the sound of the ranger’s drum. On the brow of a hill, w\hich slopl)es to meet T’he flowing river, and bathe its feet, ig

Page 20 view page image

2,lffgg MJyTponle. The bare-washed rock, and the drooping grass, And the creeping vine, as the waters pass,A rude and unshapely chapel stands, Built up in that wild by unskilled hands, Yet the traveller knows it a place of prayer, For thte holy sign of the cross is there And should he chance at that place to be, Of a Sabbath morn, or some hallowed day, When prayers are made and masses are said, Some for the living and some for the dead, Well mnight that traveller start to see The tall dark formns, that take their way From the birch canoe, on the river-shore, And the forest paths, to that chapel door; And marvel to mark the naked knees An(l the duisky foreheads bending there, While, in coarse white vesture, over these In blessin,g or in prayer, Stretching abroad his thin pale hands, Like a shrouded ghost, the Jesuit‘6 stands. Two forms are now in that chapel dim, The Jesutit, silent and sad and pale, Anxiously heeding some fearful tale, W’hich a stranger is telling him. That stranger’s garb is soiled and torn, And wet with dew and loosely worn; Her fair neglected( hair-falls down O’er cheeks Awith wind and sunshine brown Yet still, in that disordered face, The Jesuit’s cautious eye can trace Those elements of former grace W-hich, half effaced, seem scarcely less, Even now, than perfect loveliness. WNith drooping head, and voice so low That scarce it meets the Jesuit’s ears, \While through her clasped fingers flow, From the heart’s fountain, hot and slow, Her penitential tears, She tells the story of the woe And ev il of her years. “O father, bear with me; my heart Is sick and deathlike, and my brain Seems girdled with a fiery chain, Whose scorching links will never part, And never cool again. 20

Page 21 view page image

TWO FORMS ARE SNOW IN THAT CHAPEL DIM. 47:i

Page 22 view page image

Moggr Megone. Bear with me while I speak,-but turn Away that gentle eye, the while,The fires of guilt more fiercely burn Beneath its holy smile; For half I fancy I can see My mother’s sainted look in thee. “My dear lost mother! sad and pale, Mournfully sinking day by day, And with a hold on life as frail As frosted lea\es, that, thin and gray, Hang feebly on their parent spray, And tremble in the gale; Yet watching o’er my childishness \With patient fondness, not the less For all the agony which kept Her blue eye wakeful, while I slept And checking es ery tear and groan That haply might have wakedcl my own, And bearing still, w ithout offence, My idle words, and petulance Reproving with a tear,-and, while The tooth of pain \,as keenly preying Upon her very heart, repaying My brief repentance with a smile. Oh, in her meek, forgiving eye There was a brightness not of mirth. A light w\hose clear intensity \Vas borrowed not of earth. Along her cheek a dleepening red Told where the feverish hectic fed And yet, each fatal token gave To the mild beauty of her face A newer and a dearer grace, Un,\arning of the grave. ‘T \as like the hue which Autumn gives To yondcler change(l and (lying leaves, Breathed over by\ his frosty breath Scarce can the gazer feel that this Is but the spoiler’s treacherous kiss, The mocking-smile of Death! “Swteet were the tales she used to tell \Vhen summer’s eve \as d(ear to us, And, fading from the darkening dell, The glory of the sunset fell On wooded Agamenticus, 22

Page 23 view page image

-2 ) 'hen, sitting by our cottage wall, The murmur of.the Saco’s fall, And the south-\xind’s expiring sighs, Came, softly blending, on my ear, With the lo%\ tones I loved to hear: Tales of the I)ure, the good, the w\ise, The holy men and maids of old, In the all-sacred pages told;Of Rachel, stoop)ed at Haran’s fountains, Amid her father’s thirsty flock, IBeaultiful to her kinsman seeming As the bright angels of his dreaming, On Padan-aran’s holy rock; Of gentle Ruth,-aiand her who kept Her awful vigil on the mountains, B) Israel’s virgin daughters \vept; Of Miriam, with her maidens, singing The song for grateful Israel meet, \Vhile every crimson wave was bringing The spoils of Egypt at her feet; Of her, Samaria’s humble daughter, \Who paused to hear, beside her well, Lessons of love and truth, which fell Softlv as Shiloh’s flowting water; And saw, beneath his pilgrim guise, The Promised One, so long foretold By holy seer and bard of old, Revealed before her wondering eyes. “Slow\vly she faded.

I)ay by day Her step grew weaker in our hall, And fainter, at each even-fall, Her sad voice died away. Yet on her thin, pale lip, the while, Sat Resignation’s holv smile: And even my father checked his tread, And hushedl his voice, beside her bed BIeneath the calm and sad rebuke Of her mieek e-e’s imploring look, The scowl of hate his brow forsook, And in his stern and gloomy eye, At times, a few unwonted tears \Vet the dark lashes, which for years Hatred and pride had kept so dry. “Calm as a child to slumber soothed, As if an angel’s handl had smoothed

Page 24 view page image

Mo,-,,- Afc)ooc. The still, white features into rest, Silent and cold, \ithout a breath To stir the drapers on her breast, Pain, \ith its keen and p)oisoned fang, The horror of the mortal l)aug, T’he suffering look her l)ro\ had worn, The fear, the striife, the anguish gone, She slepl)t at last in death! “0, tell me, fttlher, cast the (lead \Valk on the earth, and look on us, And lail upon the living’s head Their bl)essing or their culi-se? For, O, last night she stood by me, As I lay beneath the wvoodland tree!” The Jesuit crosses himself in awe, “Jesu! what was it my daughter saw?” S’/e canme to me last night. The dried leaves did not feel her tread; She stood by-me in the wan moonlight, In the white robes of the dead Pale, and very mou-rnlfully She bent her li,ght form over me. I heard no sound, I felt no breath Breathe o’er me from that face of death Its blue e-es rested on my own, Rayless and cold as eyes of stone Yet, in their fixed, unchanging gaze, Something, which spoke of early dlays, A sadness in their quiet glare, As if lose’s smile were frozen there,Came o’er me with an icy thrill O God! I feel its presence still!” The Jesuit makes the holy sign,“How passed the vision, daughter mine?” “All dimly in the wan moonshine, As a wreath of mist will twist and tw\ine, And scatter, and melt into the light,So scattering, melting on my sight. The pale, cold vision passed; But those sad eyes were fixed on mine Mournfully to the last.” 24

Page 25 view page image

Mogg Megone. “God help thee, daughter, tell me why That spirit passed before thine eye!” “Father, I know not, save it be That deeds of mine have summoned her From the unbreathing sep ulchre, To leave her last rebuke with me. Ah, woe for me! my mother died Just at the moment when I stood Close on the verge of woman hood, A child in everything beside; And when my wild heart needed most’ Her gentle counsels, they were los SHE STOOD BY

ME IN THE WAN MOONLIGHT. “My father lived a stormy life, Of frequent change and daily strife; And God forgive him! left his child To feel, like him, a freedom wild; To love the red man’s dwelling-place, The birch boat on his shaded floods, The wild excitement of the chase Sweeping the ancient woods, The camp-fire, blazing on the shore Of the still lakes, the clear stream where The idle fisher sets his wear, Or angles in the shade, far more Than that restraining awe I felt Beneath my gentle mother’s care, When nightly at her knee I knelt, With childhood’s simple prayer. “There came a change. The wild, glad mood Of unchecked freedom passed. Amid the ancient solitude Of unshorn grass and waving wood, And waters glancing bright and fast, 25

Page 26 view page image

26 Mog VerO,oe. A softened voice was in my ea-r, Swveet as those lulling sounds and fine The hunter lifts his head to hear, No\ow far and fatint, no\ full and near The murmur of the wind-s\vept I)ine. A nmanly fornm \as ever nigh, A bolcl, free hunter, \ith an e-e \Vhose dark, keen glance ha(l power to wake Both fear and love, to awve and charm ‘ \as as the wizard rattlesnake, \NVhose e\ il glances lure to haln\Vhose col(l an(l smniall an(l glittering eye, And brilliant coil, and changing dye, Dira\, step by stel); the gazer near, \‘ith droopl)ing \ing and cry of fear, Yet powerless all to turn aw\ay, A conscious, but a willing prey “Fear, doubt, thought, life itself, erelong IMe-ge(l in one feeling deep and strong. Faded the world which I had knowtn, A poor vain shacldow, cold and waste; In the warml pIresent bliss alone Seemed I of actual life to taste. Fond longings dimly understood, The glowv of t)assion’s quickening blood, And cherished fantasies which press The young lip with a dream’s caress,The heart’s forecast and prophecy Took formn and life before my eye, Seen in the glance which met my own, Heard in the soft and pleading tone, .Felt in the arms around me cast, And warm heart-pulses beating fast. Ah! scarcely yet to God above \Vith deeper trust, with stronger love, Has prayerful saint his meek heart lent, Or cloistered nun at twilight benit, Than I, before a human shrine, As mortal and as frail as mine, \Vith heart, and soul, and mind, and form, Knelt madly to a fellow-worm. “Full soon, upon that dream of sin, An awful light came bursting in. The shrine was cold at which I knelt, The idol of that shrine was gone;

Page 27 view page image

Amp()rg ijf((tr(ofl 2. A humbled thing of shame and guilt, Outcast, and spl)urned( and lone, \Vrapt in the shaclo\vs of my crime, \Vith \vithering heart and burning brain, Andc tears that fell like fiery rain, I passed a fearful time. “T’lher-e camle a voice-it checked the teal In heart and soul it vrought a change; IMy father’s voice was in my ear It w\hisl)ered of revenge! A new and fiercer feeling swept All lingering tenderness awayAnd tiger passions, which had slept In Chil(lhOO(I’s better dav, Unkno\wn, unfelt, arose at length In all their o\ n demloniac strength.

“A youthful warrior of the will, By wordcs dleceivedl, bty smiles beguileld, Of crime the cheated instrument, Upon our fatal errandls went.

Through camp and toxwn and wilderness He tracked his victim; and, at last, Just when the tidle of hate had passed, And milder thoughts came wvarm and fast, Exulting, at miy feet he cast The bloocdy token of success. “0O God!

w itlh whlat an aw\ ful power I sawv the buried past uprise, And gather, in a single hour, Its ghost-like memories! And then I felt alas! too late That underneath the mask of hate, That shame and guilt and iwrong had thrown O’er feelings \hich thev might not own, The hear’s \-ildcl love had known no change; And( still that leep and hidden love, \VNith its first fondness, wept above The victimi of its owni revenge! ‘here lav the fearful scalp), and there The blood was on its l)ale browvn hair! I thought not of the v ictim’s scorn, I thought not of his baleful guile, Mv dleadl-wrong, mv outcast name, ‘File characters of sin and shame 2 7

Page 28 view page image

M ov Jf Megone. On heart and forehead drawn; I only saw that victimn’s smile,The still, green places where we met,The moonlit branches, dewy wet; I only felt, I only heard The greeting and the parting word,The simile, the embrace, the tone, which made An Eden of the forest shade. “And oh, with what a loathing eye, WVith awhat a dea(lly hate, and deep, I saw that Indian murderer lie Before me, in his drunken sleep! What though for me the deed was done, And words of mine had spl)ed him on! Yet when he murmured, as he slept, The horrors of that deed of blood, The tide of utter madness swept O’er brain and boscm, like a flood. And, father, with this hand of mine-” “Ha! what didst thou?” the Jesuit cries, Shudldlering, as smitten with sudden p)ain, And shading, with one thin hand, his eyes, With the other lie makes the holy sign. ” I smnote him as I would a worm; With heart as steeled, with nerves as firm He never woke again!” “Woman of sin and blood and shame, Speak, I would know that victim’s name.”

“Father,” she gasped, “a chieftain, known As Saco’s Sachem, -MIOGG

MEGONE!” Pale priest! WNhat proud and lofty dreams, \What keen desires, what cherished schemes, What hopes, that time may not recall, Are darkened bv that chieftain’s fall Was he not pledged, by cross and vow, To lift the hatchet of his sire, And, round his own, the Chur-ch’s foe, To light the avenging fire? Who now the Tarrantine shall wake, For thine and for the Church’s sake? Who summon to the scene Of conquest and unsparing strife, And vengeance dearer than his life, 28

Page 29 view page image

rogg Megone. 29 The fiery-souled Castine? 17 Three backward steps the Jesuit takes, His long, thin frame as ague shakes; And loathing hate is in his eye, As from his lips these words of fear Fall hoarsely on the maiden’s ear, “The soul that sinneth shall surely die!’ She stands, as stands the stricken deer, Checked midway in the fearful chase, When bursts, upon his eye and ear, The gaunt, gray robber, baying near, Between him and his hiding-place; ~~~~~~~~,HER HANDS ARE CLASPING THE JESUIT’S

KN……………. HER HANDS ARE CLASPING THE JE:SUIT’S KNEE. While still behind, with yell and blow, Sweeps, like a storm, the coming foe. “Save me, 0 holy man!” her cry Fills all the void, as if a tongue, Unseen, from rib and rafter hung, Thrilling with mortal agony; Her hands are clasping the Jesuit’s knee, And her eye looks fearfully into his own; “Off, woman of sin! nay, touch not me With those fingers of blood; begone!” With a gesture of horror, he spurns the form That writhes at his feet like a trodden worm.

Page 30 view page image

30 ~~~~V ilf tr Agg r(/,(‘ Ev-er thus the spirit must, Guilty in the sight of Heaven, With a keener wNoe be ricen, For its \-eak and sinful trust In the strength of human dust Andl its anguishl thrill afresh For each vain reliance givxen To the failing arm of flesh. PART III. AH, weary Priest! vith pale hands pressed On thy throt)bing brow\ of p)ain, Baffled in thy life-long quest, Ov-er\ orn with toiling -aim, Howv ill thy troubled musings fit The holy quiet of a )breast With the Do\e of P’eace at rest, S\eetlv brooding over it. ThougLhts are thine which havxe no part \ ith the nieek and pure of heart, Undisturbed by outward things, Resting in the heavxenly shade, IBy the oxverspli-eading \ings Of the Blessed S1)irit made. ThIoughts of strife and hate and wrong S\veep thy heated brain along, Fading hopes for whose success It were sin to breathe a I)rayer;Schemnes \which Heav en may never bless, Fears \ hich (lailken to dlespair. Hoary p)-iest! thv tlreamn is dlone Of a hunldred redl tribes won To the p le of Holy Church And the heretic o’erithi-ow\n, An(I his namne no longer known, And thy -eary brethren turning, Joy ful froml their years of mourning, ‘T\ixt the altar and the porch. Hark! what sutdden sound is heard In the wood and in the sky, Shriller than the scream of bir(l, Than the trumpet’s clang more high E-erv wolf-cave of the hills, Forest arch antl mountain gorge, Rock and dell, and river verge, 

30

Page 31 view page image

Aloggr (zjicgone. ‘With an answering echo thrills. Well (loes the Jesuit know\ that cry, Which summonis the Norridgewock to (lie, And tells that the foe of his flock is nigh. He listens, and hears the rangers come, WNith loud hur-ah, and jar of drum, And hurrying feet (for the chase is hot), And the short, sharI) sound of rifle shot, And taunt and menace, -ans\ere(l w\ell I)- the Iindians’ mocking cry and yell,The bark of dogs, the squact\‘s mal scr-eam, The clash of l)accddles along the stream, The \whistle of shot as it cuts the lea\ es Of the mapl)les around the chuich’s eaves,And the gridcle of hatchets fiercely thro\w, On \-ig-am-log and tree and stone. Black faith the grimne of p)aint and (lust, Spottedcl and streaked faith humana gore, A grim and nake(l head is thrust \N’ithin the chal)el-door. “Ha Bomazeen!-In God’s name say, \‘hat mean these sounds of l)loody fray?’” Silenit, the Indian p)oints his hand T’o \ here across the echoing glen S\eep) Harmon’s dreaded ranger-bacnd, And Ioulton faithl his men. \N’here are th\ \arr-ior-s, Blomazeen? \V\here are De Rou\ ille” and Castine, And w\here the braves of Sa\ga’s queen?’

ILet m\ father find the \inter snowv WN’hich the sunl drank up) long moons ago Under the falls of Tacconock, The \vol\ es are eating the Norriclge\ock; Castine w\ith his w\ ix es lies closely hi(1 Like a fox in the w\oods of Peiemaquid(! Cii Sa\w-ga’s banks the niaii of star Sits in his. \ig-ani like a s(lua\,Squandlo has fled(l, and Mogg Megone, Struck )by the knife of Sagamore John, Lies stiff and stark and cold as a stone.”

Fearfully over the Jesuit’s face, Of a thousand thoughts, trace after trace, Like swift cloud shadow\s, each other chase. One instant, his fiigers grasp his knife, For a last vain strll(,gle for cherished life,The next, he hurls the bladcle a\way, 3i

Page 32 view page image

32 And kneels at his altar’s foot to pray; Over his beads his fingers stray, And he kisses the cross, and calls aloud On the Virgin and her Son; For terrible thoughts his memory crowd Of evil seen and done,Of scalps brought home by his savage flock From Casco and Sa\ga and Sagadahock In the Church’s service won. No shrift the gloomy savage brooks, As scow\ling on the priest he looks: “Cowesass-cowesass tawhich -essaseen i’ Let my father look upon Bomazeen,IMy father’s heart is the heart of a squaw, But mine is so hard that it does not thaw\v Let my father ask his God to make A dance and a feast for a great sagamore, When he paddles across the westerl lake, \With his dogs and his squaws to the sl)irit’s shore.

Cowaesass-cownesass-tawhich wessaseen? Let my father (lie like Bomiazeen!”

Through the cha)el’s narrow doors, And through each window in the walls, Round the p)riest and warrior pours The deadly shower of English balls.

Low\ on his cross the Jesuit falls; \ hile at his side the Norridgewock, \Vith failing breath, essays to mock And menace,et the hated foe, Shakes his scalp-trophies to and fro Exultingly before their eyes,Till, cleft and torn by shot and blow, Defiant still, he dies. “So fare all eaters of the frog! Death to the Bah) lonish dog! Down with the beast of Rome!” With shouts like these, around(l the (lead, Unconscious on his bloody bed, The rangers cro\v(ling come. Brave men! the (lead priest cannot hear The unfeeling taunt, the brutal jeer; Spurn for he sees we not-in wrath, The symhbol of your Saviour’s death T’ear from his death-graspl), in ylour zeal, A,Io,,,,

Page 33 view page image

Aft< (sir,,(, //. And tramp)le, as a thing accursed, The cross he cherished in the dust The dead man cannot feel! Brutal alike in dleed and vord, Edith callous heart and hand of strife, Hos\ like a fiend may man be made, Plying the foul and monstrous trade \Whose harvest-field is human life, \Vhose sickle is the reeking swordl! Quenching, \with reckless hand in blood, Sparks kindled by the breath of God; Urging the deathless soul, unshrivien, Of open guilt or secret sin, Before the bar of that pure Heaven The holy only enter in! 0, bv the \vidow's sore distress, The orplhan’s w\ailing w\ retchedclness, By Virtue struggling in the accursed Embraces of polluting Lust, By the fell discord of the Pit, And the pained souls that people it, And be the l)lessed peace w\hich fills The’Parad(lise of God fore-er, Resting on all its holy hills, Andl flo-inig withl its crystal river,Let Christian hands no longer bear In triumph on his crimson car The foul and idol god of wvar No more the purple vreaths prepare To bind amid his snaky hair; Nor Christian bards his glories tell, Ncr Christian tongues his praises swvell. Through the gun-smoke wreathing white, Glimpses on the sollier-s’ sight A thing of human shape I \veen, Fer a moment only seen, \N’ith its loose hair back\ardl streaming, And its e!eballs madly gleamiing, Shrieking, like a soul in p)ain, From the \vorld of light and breath, Hurrying to its place again, Spectre-like it vanisheth! \VNretched girl! one eve alone Notes the way which thou hast gone. li 3

Page 34 view page image

Mogg Megone. eye, which slumbers never, er a lost world ever, over vale and mountain, ng forest-fountain, m the vine its fruit, r the ground-nut’s root, e she-wolf’s den, ugh the marshy fen, uggish water-snake the sunny brake, slimy bed, cold against thy tread,  thy mazy way rough the lingering day. securely sleeping ogwood’s dews are weeping! gh earth and man discard thee, Heavenly Father guard thee: He who spared the guilty Cain, Even when a brother’s blood, Crying in the ear of God, Gave the earth its primal stain, He whose mercy ever liv eth, Who repenting guilt fort giveth, rt receiveth,lderness, Hrazed, and wild, stress, s sinful child! WADING THROUGH THE MIARSHY FEN. ‘T is springtime on the eastern hills! Like torrents gush the summer rills Through winter’s moss and dry dead leaves The bladed grass revives and lives, Pushes the mouldering waste away, And glimpses to the April day. In kindly shower and sunshine bud The branches of the dull gray wood; Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks The blue eye of the violet looks; The southwest wind is warmly blowing, And odors from the springing grass, The pine-tree and the sassafras, Are with it on its errands going. 34’

Page 35 view page image

Mo,g< zlft,,oiie. A band( is mar-chilng thi-oulgh the w\ood \Vhere rolls the Kennebec his flood,The warriors of the wxil(lerness, Painted, and in their battle (iidress Anld \ith them one whose bealrd(e(l cheek, And \-hite and ws,rinkled briow, bespl)eak A walnderer from the shori-es of France A few long locks of scatterini snowv Beneath a battered miorion flow, And from the riv\ets of the v\est W-hich girds in steel his ample breast, The slanted sunbeams glance. In the harsh outlines of his face Passion and sin hav-e left their trace; Yet, sa\ e w\orn brow and thin gray hair, No signs of \eary age are there. His step is firm, his eye is keen, Nor,-ears in broil and battle spent, Nor toil, nor w\ounds, nor pain have bent The lordly frame of old Castine. No purpose inow\ of strife and blood Urges the hoary veteran on: The fire of conquest and the mood Of chivalry has e gone. A mournful task is his, to lay \Vithin the earth the bones of those \Vho perished in that fearful day, \When N\orridgewock became the prey Of all unsparing foes. Sadly and still, lark thoughts between, Of coming vengeance musedl Castine, Of the fallen chieftain Bomazeen, WVho bade for him the Norridgewocks Dig up their buried tomahawks For firm defence or swift attack; And him \hose friendship formed the tie \Which held the stern self-exile back From lapsing into savagery; WVhose garb and tone and kindly glance Recalled a younger, happier dlay, And prompted memiory’s fond essay, To bridge the mighty waste which lay Between his wild home and that gray, Tall chateau of his native France, WVhose chapel bell, with far-heard din, Ushered his birth-hour gayly in, 35

Page 36 view page image

Mo36 M-9 Megone. And counted with its solemnn toll The masses for his father’s soul. Hark! from the foremost of the band Suddenly bursts the Indian yell; For nowv onil the vxerv spot they stand \Where the Norridcgewocks fighting fell. No waigwam smoke is curling there; The very earth is scorched and bare And they pause and listen to catch a sound Of breathing life, but there comnes not one, Save the fox’s bark and the rabbit’s bound; But here and there, on the blackened ground, WVhite bones are glistening in the sun. And where the house of prayer arose, And the holy hymn, at daylight’s close, And the aged priest stood up) to bless The children of the wilderness, There is naught savxe ashes sodden and dank; And the birchen boats of the Norridgewock, Tethered to tree and stump and rock Rotting along the river bank’ Blessed Mlary! wvho is she Leaning against that maple-tree? The sun upon her face burns hot, But the fixed eyelid moveth not; The squirrel’s chirp is shrill and clear From the dry bough above her ear; Dashing fromn rock and root its spray, Close at her feet the river rushes; The blackbird’s wing against her brushes, And sweetl- through the hazel-bushes The robin’s mellow music gushes;God save her! will she sleep alway? Castine hath bent him over the sleeper: “

\NVake, daughter, wvake!” but she stirs no limb’ The eye that looks on him is fixed and dim; And the sleep she is sleeping shall be no deeper, Until the angel’s oath is said, And the final blast of the trump goes forth To the gravxes of the sea and the graves of earth. RUTH BONYI’HON IS

DEAD! 36

Page 37 view page image

WE had been wandering for many .?”: “”!ii~ i i- davs … ” 1 x Through the rough northern coun try. We had seen The sunset, with its bars of purple cloud. Like a new heaven, shine upward “’”~! from the lake Of Winnepiseogee; and had felt The sunrise breezes, midst the leafy isles Which stoop their summer beauty to the lips Of the bright waters. We had ‘ r ‘“i i t ~ checked our steeds, Silent with wonder, where the A mountain wall Is piled to heaven; and, through the narrow rift Of the vast rocks, against whose rugged feet Beats the mad torrent with perpetual roar, Where noonday is as twilight, and the wind Comes burdened with the everlasting moan Of forests and of far-off waterfalls, We had looked upward where the summer sky, Tasselled with clouds light-woven by the sun, Sprung its blue arch above the abutting crags O’er-roofing the vast portal of the land Beyond the wall of mountains. We had passed The high source of the Saco; and bewildered In the dwarf spruce-belts of the Crystal Hills, Had heard above us, like a voice in the cloud, The Horn of Fabyan sounding; and atop Of old Agioochook had seen the mountains

Page 38 view page image

Piled to the northl\ardcl, shlaggedl with wvood, ail(l thick As meadow\v mole-hills, the far sea of Casco, A w\hite gleam on the horizon of the east; Fair lakes, enibosoimed in the \woods and hills; MIoosehiliock’s mounitain Lange, and Keai-sai-,ee Lifting his Titaii forehead to the sunI!

And \ve had rested underneath the oaks Shado\mig the bank, whose griassy sp)ires are shaken By-the perpetual beating of the falls Of the wvildl Ammonoosuc. \Ve had tracked The \ inding Pemigewasset, overhung By beechen shadows, whitening down its rocks, Or lazily gliding through its intervals, From wvaving rye-fields sending up the gleam Of sunlit waters.

\Ve had seen the moon Rising behind Umbagog’s eastern pines, Like a great Indian camp-fire; and its beams At midnight spanning with a bridge of silver The Merrimack by IUncanoonuc’s falls. There were five souls of uis whom travel’s chance Had thrown together in these wildl north hills: A city lawyer, for a month escaping From his dull office, w\he-e the weary eye Saw onlv hot brick walls and close thronged streets,Briefiess as vet, but with an eye to see Life’s sunniest side, and with a heart to take Its chances all as Goclsends; and his brother, Pale from long pulpit studies, yet retaining The warmth and freshness of a genial heart, \Vhose mirror of the beautiful and true In MNan and Nature, wvas as yet undimmed By dust of theologic strife, or breath Of sect, or cobwvebs of scholastic lore; Like a clear crystal calm of water, taking The hue and image of o’erleaning flowvers Sweet human faces. white clouds of the noon, Slant starlight glimpses through the dewy leaves, And tenderest moonrise.‘T was, in truth, a stud\, To mark his spirit, alternating between A decent and professional gravity And an irreverent mirthfulness, which often Laughed in the face of his cli-inity, Plucked off the sacred epl)hodl, quite unshrined The oracle, and for the pattern priest Left us the man. A shrewvd, sagacious merchant, 38 Tllc ty-Pcliiitico(k.

Page 39 view page image

The Bridal of Pclnclacook. To w\hom the soile(l sheet found in Crawford’s-inni, Gi\ing the latest nests of city stocks And sales of cotton, had a deeper meaningThan the great presence of the awful mountains Glorified l)v the sunset;-and his daughter A delicate flower on whom had blown too long X’hose evil \ inds, which, sw\eepinig from the ice And winnow\ing the fogs of Labrador, Shed their cold blight round NMassachusetts Bay, \Vith the same breath \which stirs Spring’s opening leaves And lifts her half-formed flower-bell on its stem, Poisoninig our seaside atmosphere. It chanced That as we turned upon our homewvard wa\, A drear northeastern storm came hobbling up The valley of the Saco; and that girl \Vho had stood with us upon Mlount Washington, Her brown locks ruffled by the wind which whirled In gusts around its sharp cold pinnacle, \Vho had joined our gay trout-fishing in the streams \NVhich lave that giant’s feet; whose laugh was heard Like a bird’s carol on the sunrise breeze \V-hich swelled our sail amidst the lake’s green islandls, Shrank from its harsh, chill breath, and visibly drooped Like a floater in the frost. So, in that quiet inn \Vhich looks from Conway on the mountains piled Heavily against the horizon of the north, Like summer thunder-clouds, we male our home: And while the mist hung over dripping hills, And the cold ind-v lriven rain-drops all day long Beat their sad music upon roof and pane, \Ve strove to cheer our gentle invalid. The lawyer in the pauses of the storm \VNent angling down the Saco, and, returning, Recounted his adventures and mishaps Gave us the history of his scaly clients M;ingling faith ludicrous yet apt citations Of barbarous lawv Latin, passages From Izaak \Talton’s Angler, sweet and fresh As the flower-skirted streams of Staffordshire, \Where, under aged trees, the southwest wind Of soft June mornings fanned the thin, white hair Of the sage fisher. And, if truth be told, Our youthful candidate forsook his sermons, His commentaries, articles anl( creeds, 39

Page 40 view page image

S,he Bridal of Pe liacook. OUR GAY TROUT-FISHING IN THE STREAMS. For the fair page of human loveliness,The missal of youoig hearts, whose sacred text Is music, its illumining sweet smiles. He sang the songs she loved; and in his low, Deep, earnest voice, recited many a page Of poetry, the holiest, tenderest lines Of the sad bard of Olney, the sweet songs, Simple and beautiful as Truth and Nature, Of him whose whitened locks on Rydal Mount Are lifted yet by morning breezes blowing From the green hills, immortal in his lays. And for myself, obedient to her wish, I searched our landlord’s proffered library,A well-thumbed Bunyan, with its nice wood pictures Of scaly fiends and angels not unlike them, Watts’ unmelodious psalms, Astrology’s Last home, a musty pile of almanacs, And an old chronicle of border wars And Indian history. And, as I read A story of the marriage of the Chief 40

Page 41 view page image

.Thic Bit4zl of Pefzonacook. Of Saugus to thle dulsky \Veetano()(), Datughter of Passacona\ ay, \ ho wl-elt Ini the old time ul)oli the lMet imack, Our fair one, in the l)la-ful exercise Of her prerogatixe,-the ri,ght (lixine Of ycouth acnd l)eauty, -ba(le us versify Thle legend, anld \ith readcy I)pencil sketched Its p)lan and outlines, laughingly assigning To each his I)pa-t, anci barriin-our ecxcuses \ ith absolute \ ill. So, like the cavaliers \N hose -oices still are heard in the Romance Of silv-er-tonllgued Boccaccio, on the l)anlks Of Arno), w-ith soft tales of lo-e beguiling rIhe ea-of lainguid beaut), plague-exiled Frollt stattel\

I;lot ence, \e rehearsed our rhymles To thcil-fait- autlitoI, and shaltedl 1)) tturns Her kiind a)p)I o-al Iand lhe )lla) ful ceslluI e. It imay be that these fragments o\e alone To the fair-setting of their-circumstances, The associations of time, scene, and audience,Their lplace amidl the p)ictures wNhichli fill up) The chambers of imy miemory. Yet I trust That some, \ho sigh, \hile wantlering in thought, Pilgrims of Romance o’er the olden \worltl, h’lat our-broad landcl, our sea-like lakes alIl mountains Piled to the clouds,our-riv-ers ov-e-hutng BU
forests wxhich ha\e kino\wn no other change For ages, than the budlding and the fall Of leaxes,- otLir -alle-s lo\ elier than those \Which the old poets sang of,-shotl(l l)ut figure On the apoct-phal char-t of speculation As pastures, \vood-lets, mill-sites, \ith the privileges.

Rzights, and appurtenances, \hichl make ul) A Yankee Pa-ra(lise, LIIunsung, tlunknlo\n, To beautiful tradition; even their names, \ hose melody v-et lingers like the last \Vibration of the red man’s re(luiem, IExchanged for sy-llables significant Of cotton-mill and rail-car, \ill look kindly Upon this ffort to call up the ghost Of our dimn Past, and listen w ith pleased ear To the responses of the questioned Shade. I. THE

MIERI M IMACK. O CHILD of that w-hite-crestet mnounitaiti whose si)rings (t,sh forth in the shade of the cliff-eagle’s \ings, -1 f I

Page 42 view page image

The Bri/dl of Petnacook. Do\wn whose slopes to the lowlands thy wild waters shine, Leaping gray \valls of rock, flashing through the dwarf pitie. From that cloud-curtained cradle so cold and so lone, From the arms of that wintry-locked mother of stone, By hills hung faith forests, through vales wide and free, Thv mountain-born brightness glanced down to the sea! No bridge arched thy waters save that where the trees Stretched their long arms above thee and kissed in the breeze: No sound save the lapse of the waves on thy shores, The plunging of otters, the light dip of oars. Green-tufted, oak-shaded, by Amoskeag’s fall ‘Fhv tvin Uncanoonucs rose stately and tall, Thy Nashua meadows lay green and unshorn, And the hills of Pentucket were tasselled with corn. But thy Pennacook valley was fairer than these, And greener its grasses and taller its trees, Ere the sound of an axe in the forest had rung, Or the mowser his scythe in the meadows had swung. In their sheltered repose looking out from the wood She bark-builded wig\wams of Peinacook stood, There glided the corn-dance, the Council-fire shone, And against the red \ar-post the hatchet w-as thrown.

There the old smoked in silence their pipes, and the young To the pike and the white-p)erch their baitedl lines flung; There the boy shaped his arrows, and there the shy mrnaid( AWove her many-hued baskets and bright wampum braid. 0 Stream of the Mountains! if answer of thine Could rise from thy seaters to question of mine, MIethinks through the din of thy thronged banks a moan Of sorrow Ad ould swell for the days which have gone. Not for thee the dull jar of the loom and the wheel, The gliding of shuttles, the ringing of steel; But that old voice of waters, of bird and of breeze, The dip of the w-ild-fo\l, the rustling of trees! 42

Page 43 view page image

The -Bridal of Pennactook. II. THE BASHABA.” LIFT we the twilight curtains of the Past, And, turning from familiar sight and sound, Sadly and full of reverence let us cast A glance upon Tradition’s shadowy ground, Led by the few pale lights which, glim mering round That dim, strange land of Eld, seem dying fast: And that which history gives not to the eye, The faded coloring of Time’s tapestry, Let Fancy, with her dream dipped brush, supply. Roof of bark and walls of pine, Through whose chinks the sunbeams shine, Tracing many a golden line On the ample floor within Where, upon that e a r-t h - f I o o r stark, Lay the gaudy mats of bark, With the bear’s hide, rough and dark, And the reddeer’s THRII THE SHY MAID WOVE

HER MANY-HUED BASKETS. skin. Window-tracery, small and slight, Woven of the willow white, Lent a dimly checkered light, And the night-stars glimmered down, Where the lodge-fire’s heavy smoke, Slowly through an opening broke, In the low roof, ribbed with oak, Sheathed with hemlock brown. Gloomed behind the changeless shade, By the solemn pine-wood made; Through the rugged palisade, In the open foreground planted, 43

Page 44 view page image

The Bo/r/da of Pcloiicook. Glimpl)ses came of rowers ro\ing, Stir of leav-es ancl vild-flovers blowing, Steel-like gleamis of \ater flonving, In the sunlight slanted. Here thle migihty Bashabia Held his long-unqutestioned( s\way, From the \White Hills, far a\ay, ‘ITo the great sea’s soundin(g slhore Chief of chiefs, his regal ordl All tile river Sachemis heard, At his call the \x-ar-dance stirred, Or as still once miore. There his spoils of chase an(l x\ar, Ja\v of \olf anIc black hear’s )paw, Pantiler’s skin ancI eagle’s cla\w iLav-besidle his axe a(nd )o': .nd(l, ado\-n the rioof-l))le hung, ILoosel-oni a snake-skiin strunig, In the smioke his scalp-locks s\vung GGril\l-to anI( fro.

Nightly do\wn the ri-ier going, S\ ifter -as the hunlter’s ro\wing, \‘hen he sa\ that lodge-fire glowving O’er the \aters still and red; And( the s(Lua’\s dark e-e burned brighter, And she (Ie\w her blanket tighter, As, w-ith lquicker stel) anI( lighter, Froim that door she tifled. For that chief hadl magic skill, And a Panisee’s dark w\ill, Over l)o\ ers of goodl an(I ill, Poers \ hich bless and I)o\vers \ hi(ch ban, \VNizalrd lord of Pennacook, Chiefs lupon their \ar-I)ath shook, \hen they met the stealdy look Of that \vise dark man. Tales of himi the grat squawN told, \N’hen the \inter night-\ inl cold Pierced her blanket’s thickest foll, And the fire burned lowv and small, 44

Page 45 view page image

The ride dl of Pennacook. Till the very child abed, Drew its bear-skin overhead, Shrinking from the pale lights shed On the trembling wall. All the subtle spirits hiding Under earth or wave, abiding In the caverned rock, or riding Misty clouds or morning breeze; THE MIGHTY BASHABA. Every dark intelligence, Secret soul, and influence Of all things which outward sense Feels, or hears, or sees,  These the wizard’s skill confessed, At his bidding banned or blessed, Stormful woke or lulled to rest Wind and cloud, and fire and flood; 45

Page 46 view page image

T,ce Bri’(il of Pcnnacook. Burned for him) the drifted snovw, Bade through ice fresh lilies blo\w, *And the leaves of summer grow Over winter’s wAoodi! Not unrtrue that tale of old’! Now, as tfhen, the Wise and bold -All the powers of Nature hold Subject to their kingly vwill; From the wondering crowds a hore, Treading life’s w ild waters o’er, As upon a marble floor, Moves the strong mian still. Still, to such life’s elements With their sterner lawvs dispense, And the chain of consequence Broken in their pathway lies; Time and change their vassals making, Flo\wers from icy pillows waking, Tresses of the sunrise shaking Over midnight skies.

Still, to earnest souls, the sun Rests on towered Gibeon, And the moon of Ajalon Lights the battlegrounds of life; To his aid the strong reverses Hidden powers and giant forces And the high stars, in their courses, Mingle in his strife! III. THE DAUGHTER. THE soot-black brows of men,-the yell Of women thronging round the bed, The tinkling charn of ring and shell, The Powah whispering o’er the dead! All these the Sachem’s home had known, When, on her journey long and wild To the dim World of Souls, alone, In her young beauty passed the mother of his child. Three bow-shots from the Sachem’s dwelling Thev laid her in the walnuLt shadcle, NWhere a green hillock gently s\elling Her fitting mound of b)urial made. 46

Page 47 view page image

7’ie Britial of Pen..acook. There trailed the ine in summer hours, Fhe tree-perched squirrel drol)ped his shell, On velvet moss and pale-hueld flo\vers, Mroven with leaf and spray, the softened sunshine,fell! The Indian’s heart is hard and cold, It closes darkl, o’er its care, And formed in Natur-e’s sternest mould, Is slo\v to feel, and strong to bear.

The wvar-paint on the Sachem’s face, Unwet \vith tears, shone fierce and red, Andi, still in battle or in chase, Dry leaf and snovw-r-ime crisped beneath his foremost tread, Yet -hen her name w\as hleai-(l no more, And when the robl)e lher mother gave, And small, light moccasin she wvore, Hadl slowl\ w\astedl on he-r gra e, U’nmarked of him the (lark maids sped Fleir: s,lliset dance ancl moonlit play, No other shaiedi his lonely bed, No other-fair -ounIg headl uponI his bosom lay. A lone, stern man. Yet, as sometimes The templ)est-smitten tree receives From one sinall root the sal) \vwhich climbs Its tol)pmnost spra-and cro\wnilg lea\es, So from his chil(l the Sachem drew\ A life of Love and Hope, and felt His cold and rug(geld nature throulgh The softness and the warmith of her y ouIng being melt. A laugh which in the woodland rang 1Bemocking April’s gladdlest bird, A light and gracefull form which sprang To meet him when his step was heard, ECes b-his lodge-fir-e flashing dark, Small fingers stringing beadl and shell Or weaving mats of bright-hued bark,  WVith these the household-god22 had graced his wigwvam well. Childl of the forest!-strong and free, Slight-robed, with loosely flowing hair, 47

Page 48 view page image

CHILD OF rHE FOREST!-STRONG AND FREE, SLICHT-ROBED, WITH LOOSELY FLOWING

IIAIR,

Page 49 view page image

The Bridal of PellZiaaook. She swam the lake or climbed the tree, Or struck the flying bird in air. O’er the heaped drifts of \Vinter’s moon Her sno-\shoes tracked the hunter’s wfay; And dazzling in the summer nioon The blade of her light oar threw off its showver of spray! Unkno\n to her the rigid rule, The dull restraint, the chiding frown, The wear\
torture of the school, ‘liThe taming of wild(l nature do\wn. Her only lore, the legends told Around the hunlter’s fire at night Stars rose and set, and seasons i-olle(ld, Fl,)wers )bloomed and snow-flakes fell, unqluestioned ill her sight. Unkno\ n to her the subtle skill \Vith which the artist-e\ e can trace In rock and tree and lake and hill The outlines of di-inest -race; Unknown the fine soul’s keen unrest, \‘hich sees, admir-es, yet yearns alway; Too closely on her mother’s )rieast To note her smiles of love the child of Nature lay! It is enough for such to be Of common, natural things a part, To feel, \with bird and stream and tree, The pulses of the same great heart; But wse, from Natu-e long exiledl In our cold homes of Art and Thought, Grieve like the stranger-tendedcl childl, W’hich seeks its mother’s arms, and sees but feels there not. The garden rose may richly bloom In cultured soil and genial air To cloud the light of Fashion’s room Or drool) in BIeauty’s midnight hair, In lonelier grace, to sun and ldewv The sweetbrier on the hillside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildl-free, yet still a sister rose 49

Page 50 view page image

The Bridal of Pennacook. Thus o’er the heart of Weetamoo Their mingling shades of joy and ill The instincts of her nature threw, The savage was a woman still. -Midst outlines dim of maiden schemes, Heart-colored prophecies of life, Rose on the ground of her young dreams The light of a new home, the lover and the wife. IV, . 1 11.I N COOL and dark fell the autumn night, But the Bashaba’s wigwam glowed with light, For down from its roof by green withes hung Flaring and smoking the pine-knots swung.

And along the river great wood-fires Shot into the night their long red spires, Showing behind the tall, dark wood, Flashing before on the sweeping flood. ” In the changeful wind, with shimmer I and shade, Now high, now low, the firelight played, On tree-leaves wet with evening dews, - On gliding water and still canoes. The trapper that night on Turee’s brook, And the weary fisher on Contoocook, Saw over the marshes and through the pine, And down on the river the dance-lights shine. For the Saugus Sachem had come to woo The Bashaba’s daughter Weetamoo, so

Page 51 view page image

The.rhh4l tf Pennlacook. And laid at her father’s feet that night His softest furs and wampum white. From the Crystal Hills to the far southeast The river Sagamores came to the feast; And chiefs w\hose homes the sea-\winds shook, Sat ldo\wn on the mats of Pennacook. They came from Sunapee’s shore of rock, From the snowy sources of Snooganock, And from rough Coo6s whose thick woods shake Their pine-conies in Umbagog Lake.

From Ammonoosuck’s mountain pass, WVild as his home, came Chepewass; And the Keenomps of the hills which throw T’heir shade on the Smile of Manito.

With pipes of peace and bows unstrung, Glo\wing with paint came old and young, In \amIl)um and furs and feathers arrayed, To the dance and feast the Bashaba made. Birdcl of the air and beast of the field, All which the wools and waters yield, On dishes of birch and hemlock piled, Garnished and graced that banquet wild. Steaks of the brow\n bear fat and large From the rockv slopes of the Kearsarge; I)elicate trout from Babboosuck brook, And salmon speared in the Contoocook; Squirrels wAhich fed where nuts fell thick In the gravelly bed of the Otternic; And small wild-hens in reed-snares caught From the banks of Sondagardee brought; Pike and perch from the Suncook taken, Nuts from the trees of the Black Hills shaken Cranberries picked in the Squamscot bog, And grapes from the vines of Piscataquog: And, drawvn from that great stone vase which stands In the river scooped by a spirit’s hands,23 5 1

Page 52 view page image

.The Bri-dtil, (f Pe_eacook. Garnished smith spoons of shell ancl horn, Stood the birchen dishes of smoking corn. Thus bird of the air anicl beast of the field, All w\hich the \woods anidI the waters yielld, Furnished in that olden (da) The bridal feast of the 13Bashaba. And merrily when that feast wvas done On the fire-lit green the dance l)egun, \ith squa\ws’

shrill stave, and (Ieel)er hium Of old men beating the Indian diruim.

Painted and pl)umed(, faith scall)-locks flow\ ing. And red arms tossing and black e-es glossing, No\v in the light and nowv in the shaclde Around the fires the dancers played. The step teas quicker, the song more shrill.

And the beat of the small drums louder still \Whenever wvithin the circle drew The Saugus Sachem and \Weetamoo. The moons of fortv \inters had shed Their snowr upon that chieftain’s head, And toil and care, and battle’s chance Had seamed his hard dark countenance. A fawn beside the bison grim, \Vhv turns the bridle’s fond ev e on him, In \whose cold look is naught beside The triumph of a sullen pride? Ask Awhv the graceful grape entwines The rough oak with her arm of vines; And ashy the grav rock’s rugged cheek The soft lips of the mosses seek: \hN, with wise instinct, Nature seems To harmonize her wide extremes, Linking the stronger with the weak, The haughtv with the soft and meek! 5 2

Page 53 view page image

The Bridal of Pennacaok. V. THE NEW HOME. A WILD and broken landscape, spiked with firs, Rougheningi the bleak horizon’s northern edge, Steep, cavernous hillsides, where [)lack hemlock spurs And sharp, gray, sl)linters of the wind-svwept ledge Pierced the thin-glaze(I ice, or bristling rose, WVhere the cold rinl of the sky sutink down upon the snows. And eastward cold, wide marshes stretched away, Dull, dreary flats without a bush or tree, O’er-crossedc bv icv creeks, \vhere twice a (lay Gurgled the \waters of the moon-struck sea; And faint with distance came the stifled roar, The melancholv lapse of Ewaves on that low shore. No cheerful village with its mingling smokes, No laugh of children wrestling in the snow, No camp-fire blazing through the hillside oaks, No fishers kneeling on the ice below; Yet midst all desolate things of sound and view, Through the long winter moons smiled dark-eyed \Vee tamoo. Her heart had found a home; and freshly all Its beautiful affections overgrew Their rugged propl). As o’er some granite wall Soft vine-leaves open to the moistening dew And warm bright sun, the love of that young wife Found on a hard cold breast the dew and warmth of life. The steep bleak hills, the melancholy shore, The long dead level of the marsh between, A coloring of unreal beauty wore Through the soft golden mist of voung love seen. For o’er those hills and from that dreary plain, Nightly she welcomed home her hunter chief again. No warmth of heart, no passionate burst of feeling, Repaid her \elcoming smile andr parting kiss, No fond and playful dalliance half concealing, Under the guise of mirthl, its tenderness But, in their stead, the \arrior’s settled pride, And v-anitv’s pleased smile with homage satisfied. 53

Page 54 view page image

.!he Bridal of Pelnacook. Eniough for Weetamoo, that she alone Sat on his mat and slumbered at his side; That he whose fame to her young ear had flown Now looked upon her proudly as his bride; That he whose name the Mohawk trembling heard Vouchsafed to her at times a kindly look or word. A WILD AND BROKEN LANDSCAPE, SPIKED WITH FIRS. For she had learned the maxims of her race, Which teach the woman to be come a slave And feel herself the pardonless disgrace Of love’s fond weakness in the wise and brave,The scandal and the shame which they incur, Who give to woman all which man requires of her. So passed the winter moons. The sun at last Broke link by link the frost chain of the nills, And the warm breathings of the southwest passed Over the hoar rime of the Saugus hills, The gray and desolate marsh grew green once more, And the birch-tree’s tremulous shade fell round the Sachem’s door. Then from far Pennacook swift runners came, With gift and greeting for the Saugus chief; Beseeching him in the great Sachem’s name, That, with the coming of the flower and leaf, The song of birds, the warm breeze and the rain, Young Weetamoo might greet her lonely sire again. 54 40

Page 55 view page image

The Bridal of Pennacook. 55 And Winnepurkit called his chiefs to gether, And a grave council in his wigwam met, Solemn and brief in words, considering whether The rigid rules of forest etiquette Permitted Weetamoo once more to look Upon her father’s face and green banked Pennacook. With interludes of pipe-smoke and strong water, The forest sages pondered, and at length, Concluded in a body to escort her Up to her father’s home of pride and strength, Impressing thus on Pennacook a sense Of Winnepurkit’s power and regal consequence. So through old woods which Aukee tamit’s24
hand1 YOUNG CHILDREN PEERING THROUGH THE tamit’s” hand, WIGWAM DOORS. A soft and many-shaded( greenness lent, Over high breezy hills, and meadow land Yellow with flowers, the wild procession went, Till, rolling down its wooded banks between, A broad, clear mountain stream, the Merrimack was seen. The hunter leaning on his bow undrawn, The fisher lounging on the pebbled shores, Squaws in the clearing dropping the seed-corn, Young children peering through the wigwam doors, Saw with delight, surrounded by her train Of painted Saugus braves, their Weetamoo again. VI. AT

PENNACOOK. THE hills are dearest which our childish feet Have climbed the earliest; and the streams most sweet Are ever those at which our young lips drank, Stooped to their waters o’er the grassy bank:

Page 56 view page image

The Bridal of Pennacook. Midst the cold dreary sea-watch, Home’s hearth-light Shines round the helmsman plunging through the night; And still, with inward eye, the traveller sees In close, dark, stranger streets his native trees. The home-sick dreamer’s brow is nightly fanned By breezes whispering of his native land, And on the stranger’s dim and dying eye The soft, sweet pictures of his childhood lie. Joy then for Weetamoo, to sit once more A child upon her father’s wigwam floor! Once more with her old fondness to beguile From his cold eye the strange light of a smile. The long bright days of Summer swiftly passed, The dry leaves whirled in Autumn’s rising blast, And evening cloud and whitening sunrise rime Told of the coming of the winter-time. But vainly looked, the while, young Weetamoo, Down the dark river for her chief’s canoe; No dusky messenger from Saugus brought The grateful tidings which the young wife sought. At length a runner from her father sent, To Winnepurkit’s sea-cooled wigwam went: “Eagle of Saugtus, in the woods the dove Mourns for the shelter of thy wings of love.” But the dark chief of Saugus turned aside In the grim anger of hard-hearted pride; “I bore her as became a chieftain’s daughter, Up to her home beside the gliding water. “If now no more a mat for her is found Of all which line her father’s wigwam round, Let Pennacook call out his warrior train, And send her back with wampum gifts again.” The baffled runner turned upon his track, Bearing the words of Winnepurkit back. “Dog of the Marsh,” cried Pennacook, “no more Shall child of mine sit on his wigwam floor. 56

Page 57 view page image

The Bridal of Pennacook. “Go, let him seek some meaner squaw to spread The stolen bear-skin of his beggar’s bed: Son of a fish-hawk!-let him dig his clams For some vile daughter of the Agawams, Or coward Nipmucks! may his scalp dry black In Mohawk smoke, before I send her back.” He shook his clenched hand towards the ocean wave, While hoarse assent his listening council gave. Alas poor bride!-can thy grim sire impart His iron hardness to thy woman’s heart? Or cold self-torturing pride like his atone For love denied and life’s warm beauty flown? On Autumn’s gray and mournful grave Hung its white wreaths; with stifled vo The river crept, by one vast bridge o’e Built by the hoar-locked artisan of Fros And many a Moon in beauty newly bo Pierced the red sunset with her silver t Or, from the east, across her azure fiel Rolled the wide brightness of her full-< Yet Winnepurkit came not, on the m; Of the scorned wife her dusky rival sat And he, the while, in Western woods a Urged the long chase, or trod the path Dry up thy tears, young daughter of a Waste not on him the sacredness of gr Be the fierce spirit of thy sire thine ow His lips of scorning, and his heart of st What heeds the warrior of a hundred t The storm-worn watcher through long Cold, crafty, proud, of woman’s weak Her home-bound grief and pining lone A RUNNER FROM HER FATHER SENT. VII. THE DEPARTURE.

THE wild March rains had fallen fast and long The snowy mountains of the North among, 5 7

Page 58 view page image

laze -r/idal of Pelnacook. Making each vale a watercourse, each hill Bright with the cascade of some new-made rill. Gnawed by the sunbeams, softened by the rain, Heaved underneath by the swollen current’s strain, The ice-bridge yielded, and the Merrimack Bore the huge ruin crashing down its track. On that strong turbid water, a small boat Guided by one weak hand was seen to float; Evil the fate which loosed it from the shore, Too early voyager with too frail an oar! EMPTY AND BROKEN, CIRCLED THE CANOE.

Down the vexed centre of that rushing tide, The thick huge ice-blocks threatening either si(!<., The foam-white rocks of Amoskeag in view, With arrowy swiftness sped that light canoe. The trapper, moistening his moose’s meat On the wet bank by Uncanoonuic’s feet, Saw the swift boat flash down the troubled stream Slept he, or waked he? was it truth or dream? The straining eye bent fearfully before, The small hand clenching on the useless oar, The bead-wrought blanket trailing o’er the waterHe knew them all w\oe for the Sachem’s daughter! Sick and aweary of her lonely life, Heedless of peril the still faithful wife Had left her mother’s grave, her father’s door, To seek the wigwam of her chief once more. 5 8

Page 59 view page image

Th/C Bi/,i/l of PeliTicook. Do-wn the white rapids like a sear leaf vhirleld, On the sharp rocks and piled-up) ices hurled, Empty and broken, circled the canoe In the vexed pool belo-\v-butt, where was xVeetamoo?

VIII. SONG OF INDIAN WVOMEN. THE Dark eye has left us, The Spring-bi-crd has flo\vwn; On the pathwvay of spirits She \vancders alone. The soing of the wood-dov-e has die(l on our shore,-: .lat ronck khuzna-inontee /2 \Te hear it no more! O Clark \water Spirit! \Ve cast on thy wave These furs \vhich may nex er Hang over her grave; Sear dot\n to the lost one the robes that she wore, .Ilat woozck kinzlzt-izolzec.’ \Ve see her no more!

Of the strange landcl she walks inll No Powah has tol(l: It may burn wvith the sunshine, Or freeze with the coll. Let us give to our lost one the robes that she wore, Lis wonick kiunnta-nzonee! Ve see her no more! The path she is treading Shall soon be our owvn; Each gliding in shadlow Unseen and alone!In vain shall we call olI the souls gone before, lfAit qoonck ku’i’tii-‘izo’iee!:They hear us no more! O mighty Sowanna! 26 Thy gateways unfold, From thy wigwairl of sunset Lift curtains of gold! Take home the poor Spirit whose journey is o’er,.Jlat Toonck kznnaz-inonzee!-\Ve see her no more! So sang the Children of the Lea-es besilde ‘rhe l)ro()a(l, lark ri-l-er’s coldly flowing title, 5 9

Page 60 view page image

Tlle Bricdal of Pennacook. Now low, now harsh, with sob -like pause and swell, On the high wind their voices rose and fell. Nature’s wild music, sounds of wind-swept trees, The scream of birds, the wailing of the breeze, The roar of waters, steady, deep, and strong,Mingled and murmured in that farewell song. 6o

Page 61 view page image

LEGENDARY. THE MERRIMACK. [” IThe Indians speak of a beautiful river, far to the south, which they call Aler,ima-k.”-SIEUR Dr, MONTS: x604.] STREAM
of my fathers! sweetly still The sunset rays thy valley fill; Poured slantwise down the long defile, \Vave, wood, and spire beneath them smile.

I see the winding PO\ow fold The green hill in its belt of gold, And following down its wavy line, Its sparkling waters blend with thine.

There’s not a tree upon thy side, Nor rock, which thv returning tide As yet hath left abrupt and stark Above thy evening water-mark; No calmt cove with its rocky hem, No isle whose emerald swells begem Thy broad, smooth current; not a sail Bowed to the freshening ocean gale; No small boat with its busy oars, Nor gray wall sloping to thy shores Nor farm-house with its maple shade, Or rigid poplar colonnade, But lies distinct and full in sight, Beneath this gush of sunset light. Centuries ago, that harbor-bar, Stretching its length of foam afar, And Salisbury’s beach of shining sand, And yonder island’s wave-smoothed stran(l, Sawv the adventurer’s tiny sail, Flit, stooping from the eastern gale;27 And o’er these woods and waters broke The cheer from Britain’s hearts of oak, As brightly on the voyager’s eye, X’Leary of forest, sea, and sky,

Page 62 view page image

I egfnciznary. Breaking the dull continuous wood, The Merrimack rolled down his flood; Mingling that clear pellucid brook, Which channels vast Agioo chook When springtime’s sun and shower unlock The frozen fountains of the rock, And more abundant waters given From that pure lake, “The Smile of Heaven,““8 Tributes from vale and moun tain-side, With ocean’s dark, eternal tide! YONDER LONEI LY COAST-LIGHT SHINES DIMLY THROUGH ITS

CLOUDY VEIL. On yonder rocky cape, which braves The stormy challenge of the waves, Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood, The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood, Planting upon the topmost crag The staff of England’s battle-flag; And, while from out its heavy fold Saint George’s crimson cross unrolled Midst roll of drim and trumpet blare, And weapons brandishing in air, He gave to that lone promontory The sweetest name in all his story; 29 Of her, the flower of Islam’s daughters, Whose harems look on Stamboul’s waters,Who, when the chance of war had bound The Moslem chain his limbs around, 2

Page 63 view page image

The Merrimack. Wreathed o’er with silk that iron chain, Soothed with her smiles his hours of pain, And fondly to her youthful slave A dearer gift than freedom gave. But look!-the yellow light rio more Streams down on wave and verdant shore; And clearly on the calm air swells The twilight voice of distant bells. From Ocean’s bosom, white and thin, The mists come slo\w ly rolling in Hills, woods, the rixver’s rocky rim, Amidst the sea-like vapor swim, W\hile yonder lonely coast-light, set \NVithin its waxe-washed minaret, Half quenched, a beamless star and pale, Shines dimly through its cloudy veil Home of my fathers! I have stood WVhere Hudson rolled his lordly flood Seen sunrise rest and sunset fade Along his frowninig Palisade; Looked down the Appl)alchiain peak On Juniata’s silver streak; Have seen along his valley gleam The Mohawk’s softly winding stream; The levxel light of sunset shine Through broad Potomac’s hem of pine; And autumn’s rainbowN-tinted banner Hang lightly o’er the Susquehanna; Yet w,heresoe’er his step might be, Thy wandering child looked back to thee Heard in his dreams thy riser’s sound Of murmuring on its pebbly bound, The unforigotten swell and roar Of wavxes on thv familiar shore And saw, amidst the curtained gloom And quiet of his lonely room, Thv sunset scenes before him pass As, in Agrippa’s magic glass, The loved and lost arose to view, Rememibered grov es in greenness grew, Bathed still in childlhood’s morning dew, Along \-hose bowers of beauty swept \Whatever iMemoi-‘s mourners wept, Sweet faces, \ hich the charnel kept, Young, gentle eyes, \which long had slept 63

Page 64 view page image

64
legendary.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And while the gazer leaned to trace, More near, some dear famhiliar face, He wept to find the vision flown,A phantom and a dream alone! THE

NORSEMEN.30 GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast; Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting and unstable sand, Which wastes beneath the steady chime And beating of the waves of Time!

Who from its bed of primal rock First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block?

Whose hand, of curious skill untaught, Thy rude and savage outline wrought? The waters of my native stream Are glancing in the sun’s warm beam: 64 I eg e n da ry.

Page 65 view page image

Y’/le horsenen. Fromi sail-urged keel and flashing oar The circles w\iden to its shore: And cultured field and peopled town Slope to its willowed margin down. Yet, while this morning breeze is bringing The mellow sound of church bells rninging-, And rolling wvheel, and rapid jar Of the fire-winged and steedless car, And voices from the wa side near Come quick and blended on my ear, A spell is in this old gray stone,MyI thoughts are with the Past alone! A change!-The steepled town no more Stretches along the sail-thronged shore: Like palace-domes in sunset’s cloud, Fadle sun-gilt spire and mansion proud Spectrally rising where they stood, I see the old, p-imeval wood Dark, shadowv-like, on either hand I see its solemn waste expand: It climbs the green and cultured hill, It arches o’er the valley’s rill; And leans fromn cliff and crag, to throw Its wild arms o’er the stream belovw. Unchanged, alone, the same bright river Flows on, as it will flow forever! I listen, and I hear the low Soft ripple where its waters go I hear behind the panther’s cry, The \ild-bird’s scream goes thrilling by, And shyly on the river’s brink The deer is stooping down to drink. But hark! from wood and rock flung back, \Vhat sound comes up the Merrimack? \Vhat sea-worn barks are those which throw The light spray fromi each rushing prow? Havxe they not in the North Sea’s blast Bowed to the wavxes the straining mast? Their frozen sails the low, pale sun Of Thule’s night has shone upon; Flapped by the sea-wind’s gusty sweep Round icy drift, and headland steep. \Wild Jutland’s wives and Lochlin’s daughters Hav-e watchedcl them fading o’er the waters, 65

Page 66 view page image

I6 fce lita ry. Lessening through driving mist and sl)pi-a, Like white-\inged sea-birds on their wan! Onward they glide, and nowxv I view Their iron-armed and stalwart crew Joy glistens in each wild blue eye, Turned to green earth and summer sky: Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide; Bared to the sun and soft rearm air, Streams back the Norsemen’s yellow hair. I see the gleam of axe and spear, The sound of smitten shields I hear, Keeping a harsh and fitting time To Saga’s chant, and Runic rhyme; Such lays as Zetland’s Scald has sung, His gray and naked isles among; Or muttered low at midnight hour Round Odin’s mossy stone of power. The wolf beneath the Arctic moon Has answered to that startling rune The Gaal has heard its stormy swell, The light Frank knows its sumIlllons well; Iona’s sable-stoled Culdlee Has heard it soundling o’er the sea, And swept, with hoary beard and hair, His altar’s foot in trembling prayer! ‘T is past, the’wildering vision dies In darkness on my dreaming ey es! The forest vanishes in air,Hill-slope and vale lie starkly bare; I hear the common tread of men, And hum of work-day life again: The mystic relic seems alone A broken mass of common stone; And if it be the chiselled limb Of Berserkar or idol grim,A fragment of Valhalla’s Thor, The stormy Viking’s god of War Or Praga of the Runic lay, Or love-awakening Siona, I know not, for no graven line, Nor Druid mark, nor Runic sign, Is left me here, by which to trace Its name, or origin, or place. 66

Page 67 view page image

The Horsmenei. Yet, for this vision of the Past, This glance upon its darkness cast, My spirit bows in gratitude Before the Giver of all good, Who fashioned so the human mind, That, from the waste of Time behind A simple stone, or mound of earth Can summon the departed forth; Quicken the Past to life again,The Present lose in what hath been, And in their primal freshness show The buried forms of long ago. As if a portion of that Thought By which the Eternal will is wrought, Whose impulse fills anew with breath The frozen solitude of Death, To mortal mind were sometimes lent, To mortal musings sometimes sent, To whisper even when it seems But Memory’s fantasy of dreamsThrough the mindl’s waste of woe and sin, Of an immortal origin! 67

Page 68 view page image

68Lgfl/-y CASSANDRA SOUTH\VICK. 1658. To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise to-day, From the scoffer and the cruel He hath plucked the spl)oil awav, Y’ea, He who cooled the furnace around(l the faithful three, And tamned the Chaldean lions, hath set his hancldmaid( free! Last night I saw the sunset melt through my prison bars, Last night across my (lamI) earth-floor fell the pale gleami of stars In the coldness and the darkness all through the long night time, My grated casement whitened with autumn’s early rime. Alone, in that dark sorrow, hour after hour crept by; Star after star looked palely in and sank adclown the sky; No sound amid night’s stillness, save that which seemed to be The dull and heavy beating of the pulses of the sea; All night I sat unsleeping, for I knew that on the morrowv The ruler and the cruel priest \ouldl mock me in my sorrovw.

Dragged to their place of market, and bargained for and sold, Like a lamb before the shambles, like a heifer from the fold! 0, the weakness of the flesh w\as therie,-the shrinking a(nd the shame; And the low voice of the Tempter-like wAhisl)ers to me came: W\Vhy sit’st thou thus forlorni\!”

the w\icked murlmur said, Damp walls thy bow\er of beauty, cold earth thy maiden bed? "Where be the smiling faces, and voices soft andl swveet, Seen in thy father’s (dwelling, heard in the I)pleasant street? \There be the youths whose glances, the suminer Sabbath through, Turned tenderly and timidly unto thy father’s )pewxv? “Vhy sit’st thou here, Cassandra??Bethink thee with what mirth Thy happy schoolmates gather around the warm brighfit hearth; How the crimson shadows tremble on foreheads white and fair, On eyes of merry girlhood, half hid in golden hair. 68 legen(ltzrj,.

Page 69 view page image

“WHY SIT’ST THOU HERE, CASSANDRA?” evi

Page 70 view page image

Icg,eundary. Not for thee the hearth-fire brightens, not for thee kind words are spoken, Not for thee the nuts of \Veilhail fwoods b)y laughing boys are broken, No first-fruits of the orchard vithin thy lal) are laid, For thee no flowers of autumn the youthful hunters braid. “0, O eak, deluded maidlen! -by crazy fancies led, \W’ith \wild and ravilng railers an e\ il!)ath to treacld; To leas-e a Xvholesome \orshil), and teaching 1)ure and sound; And mate with maniac women, loose-haired and sackcloth bound. “,Mad scoffers of the priesthood, who mock at things di-ine, \WTho rail against the pulpit, and holy bread and wine; Sore from their cart-tail scourgings, and from the pillory lame, Rejoicing in their w retchledness, and glor\ ing in their shame. And what a fate awaits thee?-a sadly toiling slave, Dragging the slowly lengthening chain of bondage to the grae! Think of thy woman’s nature, subdued in hopeless thrall, The easy prey of any, the scoff and scorn of all!” 0, ever as the Tempter spoke, and feeble Nature’s fears \Wrung drop by drop the scalding flowv of unavailing tears, I wvrestled down the evil thoughts, and strove in silent prayer, To feel, O Helper of the w\eak! that Thou indeed w\ert there! I thought of Paul and Silas, within I’Philippi’s cell, And how\ from Peter’s sleeping limb)s the p)rison-shackles fell, Till I seemed to hear the trailing of an angel’s robe of white, And to feel a blessed presence invisible to sight. Bless the Lord for all his mercies! for the peace an(l love I felt, Like ldew of Hermon’s holy hill, u)0on my spirit mielt; ANhen “Get behind mie, Satan!”’\as the language (,f my heart, And I felt the Evil Tempter with all his doubts clel)alt. Slow broke the gray cold morning,; again the sunshine fell, Flecked with the shade of bar and grate within my lonely cell; The hoar-frost melted on the w all, and iupward from the street Came careless laugh and idle w\ord, and tread of passing feet. At length the heave bolts fell l)ack, my door was open cast, And slowly at the sheriff’s side, up the long street I passed; I hea(rd the murmur round me, and felt, but dared not see, How, from every door and window, the people gazed on me. 70

Page 71 view page image

Cazss(li/?(-(a Souttlio/ck. And doubt and fear fell on me, shaine burned upon my cheek, Savamn earth and sky around me, my trembling limbs grewv weak; “0 Lord! support thy handmaid; and from her soul cast out The fear of man, which brings a snare, the weakness and the doubt.” Then the dreary shadowvs scattered, like a cloud in morning’s breeze, And a lowv deep voice within me seemed whispering words like these: “Though thv earth be as the iron, and thy heaven a brazen wall, Trust still His loving-kindness whose power is over all.” \Ve paused at length, wvhere at miny feet the sunlit waters broke On glaring reach of shining beach, and shingly wall of rock; The merchant-ships lay idly there, in hard clear lines on high, Tracing with ropl)e and slender spar their network on the sky. And there were ancient citizens, cloak-wrapped and grave and cold, And grim and stout sea-captains with faces bronzed and old, And on his horse, with Rawvson, his cruel clerk at hand, Sat dark and haughty Endicott, the ruler of the land. And poisoning with his evil words the ruler’s ready ear, The priest leaned o’er his saddlle, wvith laugh and scoff and jeer; It stirred mv soul, and from mInv lips the seal of silence broke, As if through w\oman’s wveakness a war-nilig spirit spoke. I cried, ” The l ord rebuke thee, thoui smiter of the meek, Thou robber of the righteous, thou trampler of the weak! Go light the dark, cold hearthstones, go turn the prison lock Of the poor hearts thou hast hunted, thou wolf amid the flock!” I)ar-k low\ered the brows of Endicott, and with a deeper red O’er Rawvsoii’s wine-empurpled cheek the flutsh of anger spread; “Good peopl)le,” quoth the white-lip)ped priest, “heed not her words so wild, Her Mlaster speaks within her, the Dex il owns his child!” BuLt gray heads shook and young brows knit, the while the sheriff read That la\w the w\icked rulers against the poor have made, \‘ho to their house of Rimmon and idol priesthood bring No bended knee of worship, nor gainful offering.

7 1

Page 72 view page image

7 2 Then to the stout sea-captains the sheriff, turning, said,, \Vhich of -e, worthy sealnen, will tike this Quaker maid? In the Isle of fair Ba-badoes. or on Virginia s shore, You may hold her at a higher price than Indian girl or Moor.” Grim and silent stood the captains; and when again he cried, “S)eak out, my worthy seamen!” no voice, no sign replied; Blut I felt a hard hand press my own, and kind words met my ear, “God bless thee, and preserne thee, my gentle girl and dear!” A weight seemed lifted from my heart, a pitying friend was nigh, I felt it in his hard, rough hand, and saw it in his eye; And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so kind to me, Growled back its stormy answer like the roaring of the sea, “Pile mrnv ship with bars of silver,-pack with coins of Spanish gold, From keel-piece up to deck-plank, the roomage of her hold, By the liv ing God who made me! -I would sooner in your bay Sink ship and crew and cargo, than bear this child away!” ” Adell answered, worthy captain, shame on their cruel laws!” Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people’s just ap plallse. ” Like the herdsman of Tekoa, in Israel of old, Shall we see the poor and righteous again for silver sold?” I looked on haughty Endicott; M ith weapon half-way drawn, Swve)t round the throng his lion glare of bitter hate and scorn; Fiercely he drew his bridle-rein, and turned in silence back, And sneering priest and baffled clerk rode murmuring in his track. Hard after them the sheriff looked, in bitterness of soul; Thrice smote his staff upon the ground, and crushed his parch ment roll. “Good friends,” he said, “since both have fled, the ruler and the priest, Judge ye, if from their further work I be not well released.”

Loud was the cheer which, full an(d clear, swept round the silent ban, As, with kind words and kinder looks, he )badle me go mny wRay; ltl,6,-Clltl(lly,

Page 73 view page image

-Ftli(t’lrl To - j /( Iit, h,okoki’s. Fo-r fie echo tour-s the courses of the streamlet of the glen, Atil the rii\ er of treat \waters, ha(I tulrne(l the hearts of men. 0, at that hour the very earth seemed changed b)eneath mn)y ewe, A holier -ocder round0 me rose the blue w\alls of the sky, A I()oelier light on (rock andl hill and streaiim and woodlandl la-, And(l softer llapsed on suonnier-sancls the craters of the ba.

‘Fhaunksgi\ ing to the Lord of life! to Him all praises b)e, \N-‘o fr(iim the hands of exvil men hath set his handnlcai(l free; All p)raise to Him before \hose i)o\er the mighty are afraid, \Vho takes the crafts in the snare wNhich for the poor is laid! Siug, 0 my soul, rejoicinly, on eveniug’s twilight calmi Ul)lift the loud than ksgiimg,- pour forth the grateful psalmn; Let all (]ear hearts saith me rejoice, as di(l the saints of ol0l, \Vhel of the Lordcl’s good( angel the rescued deter tol(l. AO(l s\eel) an(l hot\l, s-e evil t)riests ai(l mighlts-men of wNr-onlg. The Lo)r(l shall simite the I)roudl, and lay his hand ul)on the strong. WVoe to the wNicked rulers in his a-enging hour! N’()oe to the s-ols es svho seek the flocks to iraven an( (ldevour! IBut let the humble ones arise,-the pI)oor in heart be glad, And let the mourning ones again fvith robes of praise be clad, For He \sho cooled the furnace, and smoothed the stormy \ave, And tamed the Chaldean lions, is might-still to save!

FU,NER lAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS. 1756. ARO t-;A1) Sebago’s lonely lake There lingers not a breeze to break T-he mirror w\hich its ssaters make.

The solemnii pines along its shore, The firs sd hich hang its gray rocks o’er, Are painted on its glassy floor. The sun looks o’er, saith hazy e-e, The sno\Nn mnouitain-tops sW-hich lie Piled coldly up) against the sky. 73

Page 74 view page image

Legendary. Dazzling and white! save where the bleak, Wild winds have bared some splintering peak, Or snow-slide left its dusky streak. Yet green are Saco’s banks below, And belts of spruce and cedar show, Dark fringing round those cones of snow. HER TOKENS OF RENEWING CARE. The earth hath felt the breath of spring, Though yet on her deliverer’s wing The lingering frosts of winter cling. Fresh grasses fringe the meadow-brooks And mildly from its sunny nooks The blue eye of the violet looks. And odors from the springing grass, The sweet birch and the sassafras, Upon the scarce-felt breezes pass. 74

Page 75 view page image

~une-al T-ree of ftle Sokoki s. Her tokens of renewving care Hath Nature scattered everywNhei-e, In bud and flo\ver, an(l warmer air. But in their hour of bitterness, W\hat reck the broken Sokokis, Beside their slaughtered chief, of this? The turf’s red stain is )et undried,Scarce have the death-shot echoes cried Along Sebago’s w\ooded side: And silent notv the hunters stand, Grouped darkly, nhere a swell of land Slopes ul)pward fromn the lake’s white san(l. Fire and the axe have swep)t it bare, Saxe one lone beech, unclosing there Its light leaves in the vernal air. \Vith grave, cold looks, all sternly mute, They break the damp turf at its foot, And bare its coiled and twisted root. They heave the stubborn trunk aside, The firm roots from the earth divide,The rent beneath ya\ns dark and wide. And there the fallen chief is laid, In tasselled garb of skins arrayed, And girded faith his wNampum-braid. The silver cross he loved is pressed Beneath the heavy arms, which rest Upon his scarred and naked breast. ‘T is done: the roots are backward sent, The beechen-tree stands up unbent,The Indian’s fitting monument! \Vhen of that sleeper’s broken race Their green andl pleasant dwelling-place \Vhich knew them once, retains no trace; 0, long may sunset’s light be shed As now upon that b)eech’s hea(l,A green memorial of the dead! i’D

Page 76 view page image

lc6egendiary. I THE WAVES WHICH BREAK FOREVER ROUND THAT LONELY LAKE.

There shall his fitting requiem be, In northern winds, that, cold and free, Howl nightly in that funeral tree. To their wild wail the waves which break Forever round that lonely lake A solemn undertone shall make!

And who shall deem the spot unblest, Where Nature’s younger children rest, Lulled on their sorrowing mother’s breast? Deem ye that mother loveth less These bronzed forms of the wilderness She foldeth in her long caress? As sweet o’er them her wild-flowers blow As if with fairer hair and brow The blue-eyed Saxon slept below. 76

Page 77 view page image

St. [ohll,. \‘hat thou,-gh thie p)laces of their rest No pI)riestly knee hlath ever p)resse(lI,No funeral rite nor prayer hlath blesc(e’ \VNhat though the bigot’s ban )e theic, And thoughts of \ aililng anl dlts)iair, Andc curlsing in the pl)lace of pia\ cri-! Yet Heaven hath aigels \-atching rounl The Indian’s lo\ limea foi-et-e motiln(l,And l’/e, ha\e imade it huly,rouind. There ceases man’s frail jv:cdgmeint; all His po\weriless bo)lts of cut lntg ftIll Unheeded onil that grasst )all. 0, peeled, anId hLunltecd, an( Ieile, Sleep on, clark tenani t ()f the \

11(i’ Great Nature o\ws her sitlti)lc clill! And Nature’s God, to \whom alone The secret of the heart is kno\n,The hidden language traced thereon; \ho from its maity ctlimberings Of form and creed, and outxvard things, To light the naked spirit brings; Not faith our partial eye shall scan, Not \vith our pride and scorn shall ban, The spirit of our brother man! ST. JOHN. i647. “To the winds give our banner! Bear homeward again!”

Cried the Lord of Acadia, Crie(I Charles of Estienne; From the prow of his shallop He gazed, as the sun, From its bed in the ocean, Streamed up the St. John. O’er the blue western waters That shallop had passed,

Page 78 view page image

egeidary. Where the mists of Penobscot Clung dampl) on her mast. St. Sa\
iour had looked On the heretic sail, As the songs of the Huguenot Rose on the gale. The pale, ghostly fathers Reiiiembered her well, And had cursed her while passing, \Vith taper and bell, But the men of Monhegan, Of Papists abhorred, Had welcomed and feasted The heretic Lord. Theyr had loaded his shallop \With dun-fish and ball, With stores for his larder, And steel for his wall. Pemequid, from heri bastions And turrets of stone, Had welcomed his coming \Vith banner and gun. And the prayers of the elders Had followed his way, As homeward he glided, Down Pentecost Bay. 0, wvell sped La Tour! For, in peril and pain, His lady kept watch, For his coming again. O’er the Isle of the Pheasant The morning sun shone, On the plane-trees which shaded The shores of St. John. “Now, why from yon battlements Speaks not mny love! Whv waves there no banner Miy fortress above?” Dark and wild from his deck St. Estienne gazed about, On fire-wasted (I\ ellings, And silent redoubt; 78

Page 79 view page image

St. Jos n. From the low, shattered walls Which the flame hadI o’errun, There floated no banner, There thundered no gun! But beneath the low arch Of its doorway there stood A pale priest of Rome, In his cloak and his hood. THERE STOOD A PALE PRIEST OF ROME. With the bound of a lion, La’four sprang to land, On the throat of the Papist He fastened his hand. “Speak, son of the Woman Of scarlet and sin! What wolf has been prowling My castle within?” i9

Page 80 view page image

8oL6-f(ay From the grasp) of the soldier The Jesuit broke, Half in scorn, halt’ in sorrow, He smiled as he spoke: ” No wolf, Lord of Estienne, Has ravaged thy hall, But thy redl-handed rival, \VNith fire, steel, and ball!

Oin an erranid of mercy I hitherward came, \VNhile the \talls of thv castle Yet spoutecd with flaine. “I’entagoet’s dark vessels \N ere moored in the bay, Gi-im sea lions, roaring Aloud for their prey.” ” But what of my lady?” Cried Charles of Estienne: “On the shot-crumbled turret Thy lady was seen: “Half-veiled in the smoke-cloud, Her hand grasped thy pennon, \Vhile her dark tresses swayed In the hot breath of cannon! But woe to the heretic, Evermore wroe! WVhen the son of the church And the cross is his foe! ” In the track of the shell, In the path of the ball, Pentagoet swep)t over The breach of the wall! Steel to steel, gun to gun, One moment, - and then Alone stood the victor, Alone with his men! “Of its sturdy defenders, Thv lady alone Saw the cross-blazoned banner Float over St. John.” le,,,elitlary. 80

Page 81 view page image

Pezntucket. “Let the dastard look to it!” Cried fiery Estienne, Were D’Aulney King Louis, I’d free her again!” “Alas for thy lady! No service from thee Is needed by her Whom the Lord hath set free: Nine days, in stern silence, Her thraldom she bore, But the tenth morning came, And Death opened her door!” As if suddenly smitten, La Tour staggered back; His hand grasped his sword-hilt, His forehead grew black. He sprang on th Of his shallop “We cruise nor Give way!” c HALF-VEILED IN THE SMOKE-CLODID

HER HAND GRASPED THY PENNOD. “Massachusetts shall hear Of the Huguenot’s wrong, And from island and creekside Her fishers shall throng! Pentagoet shall rue What his Papists have done, When his palisades echo The Puritan’s gun!” 0, the loveliest of heavens Hung tenderly o’er him, There were waves in the sunshine, And green isles before him: But a pale hand was beckoning The Huguenot on; And in blackness and ashes Behind was St.

John! PENTUCKET. I 708. How sweetly on the wood-girt town The mellow light of sunset shone! 8i

Page 82 view page image

82 Icendary. Each small, bright lake, whose vaters still Mirror the forest and the hill, Reflected from its \vaveless breast The beauty of a cloudless west, Glorious as if a glimpse were given Within the western gates of heaven, Left, by the spirit of the star Of sunset’s holy hour, ajar! Beside the river’s tranquil flood The dark and lo\v-walled d\el:ings stood, Where many a rood of op)en land Stretched up and down on either hand, WVith corn-leaves wavxing freshly green The thick and blackened stumps betw\een. Behind, unbroken, deep and dread, The wvild, untravelled forest spread, Back to those mountains, white and colld, Of which the Indian trapper told, Upon whose summits never yet Was mortal foot in safety set. Quiet and calm, without a fear Of danger darkly lurking near, The weary laborer left his plough,The milkmaid carolled by her co\,From cottage door and household hearth Rose songs of praise, or tones of mirth.

At length the murmur died away, And silence on that village lay,  So slept Pompeii, tower and hall, Ere the quick earthquake swallowed all, Undreaming of the fiery fate Which made its dwellings desolate! Hours passed away. By moonlight sped The Merrimack along his bed. Bathed in the pallid lustre, stood Dark cottage-wvall andl rock and wood, Silent, beneath that tranquil beam, As the hushed grouping of a dream. Yet on the still air crept a sound,No bark of fox, nor rabbit’s bound, Nor stir of wvings, nor waters flo\wing, Nor leaves in midnight breezes blowing. 82

,L eg e ii da ry.

Page 83 view page image

Pentuckcl. 83 Was that the tread of many feet, Which downward from the hillside beat? What forms were those which darkly stood Just on the margin of the wood?Charred tree-stumps in the moonlight dim, Or paling rude, or leafless limb? No, through the trees fierce eyeballs glowed, Dark human forms in moonshine showed, Wild from their native wilderness, With painted limbs and battle-dress! THE RIVER WILLOWS, WET WITH DEW. A yell the dead might wake to hear Swelled on the night air, far and clear,Then smote the Indian tomahawk On crashing door and shattering lock,  Then rang the rifle-shot, and then The shrill death-scream of stricken men,Sank the red axe in woman’s brain, And childhood’s cry arose in vain,Bursting through roof and window came, Red, fast, and fierce, the kindled flame; And blended fire and moonlight glared On still dead men and weapons bared. The morning sun looked brightly through The river willows, wet with dew.

Pentucket. 83

Page 84 view page image

I cegczdary. No sound of combat filled the air,No shout was hear-d, nor gunshot there: Yet still the thick and sulleii smoke From smouldering ruins slowly broke; And on the greenswvarcl man-a stain, And, here and there, the manigled slain, Told how that micdnight bolt had spl)ed, Pentucket, on thy fated head! Even now the X illager can tell \Vhere Rolfe beside his hearthstone fell, Still show the door of wasting oak, Through which the fatal death-shot broke, And point the curious stranger where De Rouville’s corse law grim and bare,WVhose hideous head, in death still feared, Bore not a trace of hair or b)eard(l,And still, within the churchyai-dl ground, Heaves darkly upl) the ancient maound, \‘hose grass-gro\ n surface ox erlies The victims of that sacrifice. THE

FAMILIST’S HYMN. FATHER! to thy suffering poor Strength and grace and faith impart, And with thy own lo-e restore Comfort to the broken heart!

0. the failing ones confirm With a holier strength of zeal!Give thou not the feeble worm Helpless to the spoiler’s heel! Father! for thy holy sake \NVe are spoiled and hunted thus; Joyful, for thv truth we take Bonds and burthens unto us: Poor, and weak, and robbed of all, \Veary with our dlaily task, That thy truth mav never fall Through our wAeakness, Lor(l, A e ask. Round our fired and wasted homes Flits the forest-bird unscared, And at noon the wild beast comes \Vhere our frugal meal was shared; S4

Page 85 view page image

fThe Falti/list’s h1)’,in. For the song of praises there Shrieks the crow the li\ elong (lay; For the sound of evening p)ray-er Howls the evil beast of p)rey! Sweet the sonIgs we loved to sing Underneath thy holy sky,Words and tones that used to bring Tears of joy in every ey-e,Dear the Ad restling hours of p)rayer, \When we gathered knee to knee, Blameless youth and hoary hair, Bow\ed, 0 God, alone to thee. As thine early children, Lord, Shared their \tealth and daily bread, E-en so, with one accord, WVe, in love, each other fed. Not with us the miser’s hoard, Not with us his grasping hand; Equal round the common boai-d, Drew our meek and brother bandl! Safe our quiet Eden lay WVhen the \ar-\hoop stirred the lolld And the Indian turned away From our home his bloody hand. \Vell that forest-ranger saw, That the burthen and the curse Of the white man’s cruel law Rested also upon us. Torn apart, and driven forth To our toiling hard and long, Father! from the dust of earth Lift we still our grateful song!

Grateful, that in bonds we share In thv love which maketh free; Joyful,-that the wrongs we bear, Draw us nearer, Lord, to thee!

Grateful!-that wAhere’er wae toil, By \Wachtiset’s wooded side, ()n Nantucket’s sea-worn isle, Or by wild Net)eponset’s tide,  85

Page 86 view page image

86 fcefldar)’. Still, in spirit, we are near, And our evening hymns, which rise Separate and discordant here, Meet and mingle in the skies! Let the scoffer scorn and mock, Let the proud and ex il priest Rob the needy of his flock, For his wine-cup and his feast,Redden not thy bolts in store Through the blackness of thy skies? For the sighing of the poor Wilt Thou not, at length, arise? Worn and wasted, oh! how long Shall thy trodden poor complain? In thy name they bear the wrong. In thy cause the bonds of pain! Melt oppression’s heart of steel, Let the haughty l)riesthoo(d see, And their blinded followers feel, That in us they mock at Thee! In thy time, O Lord of hosts, Stretch abroad that hand to save Which of old, on Egypt’s coasts, Smote apart the Red Sea’s wave! Lead us from this evil land, From the spoiler set us free, And once more our gathered band, Heart to heart, shall worship thee! THE FOUNTAIN. TRAVELLER! on thy journey toiling By the sw\ift Powow, With the summer sunshine falling On thy heated brow, Listen, w hile all else is still, To the brooklet from the hill. Wild and sweet the flowers are blowing By that streamlet’s side, And a greener verdure showing Where its waters glidle,Down the hill-slope murmuring on, Over root and mossy stone. 86 ee,,enictary.

Page 87 view page image

The Founti/n. \Vhere yon oak his broad arms flingeth O’er the sloping hill, Beautiful and freshly springeth That soft-flowing rill. Through its dark roots wreathed and bare, Giishling up to sun and air. WHERE YON OAK

HIS BROAD ARMS FLINGETH. Brighter waters sparkled never In that magic well, Of whose gift of life forever Ancient legends tell,’ - In the lonely desert wasted, And by mortal lip untasted. Waters which the proud Castilian 3 Sought with longing eyes, 87

Page 88 view page image

55y Undlerneath the i ight l)a\ ilion Of the Ind(ian skies; \Vhere his forest l)ath\a\ lay Through the blooms of Floridla. Years ago a loniel\
stranhg-er, \Vith the dusky brow Of the outcast forest-i-ranger, Crossed the s\wift )(;\:~ And b)etook himn to the rill An(l the oak Ul)OI1 the hill. O’er his face of moo(ld sa(Iness For an instant shone Somethiing like a gleam of gladness As he stoot)ed himi (lown To the fountain’s grass) si(le, And his eager thirst stl)l)lie(l. \With the oak its sha(lo\
thr()\ig O’er his mossy seat, And the cool, sweet \ate-s flo\wintg Softly at his feet, Closelv b\ the fountain’s Iiim That lone In(lian seated( hillm. Autumn’s earliest frost hadcl given To the \ oocls bel()\

Hues of b)eauty, sLuch as hlea-en Ilendleth to its b)o\; Andcl the soft breeze froii the \west Scarcelh broke their (li-eani\ riest. Far behinid was Ocean stl-i\ing \Vith his chains of sand; Southw\ ard, sunny gliml)ses giv\ilg, ‘Twvixt the s\wells o()f lalnd, Of its calm and silvery triack, Rolled the tranquil Mferrimnack. O-er \ illage, wood, and meadow Gazed that stranger-man, Sadly, till the t\ilight shad(owv Over all things ran, Sa-e \where sl)ire aid \westwar(l I)ane Flashed the sunset back again, Ss lcgcll(l( I.

Page 89 view page image

Tlc -Follitai/l. (;azing thus upon the dwellilng Of his warrior sires, \There no lingering trace was telling Of their wigwam fires, WVho the gloomy thoughts might know Of that wandering child of woe? Naked lay, in sunshine glo\ilg, Hills that once had stood I)own their sides the shadows throw\il1 Of a mighty w\oold, \N’here the (leer his covert kept, And the eagle’s l)inions swept! WVhere the birch canoe had gliclde(l Dow n the s ift Po-wo\, I)ark and gloomy bridges stlide(le ‘I’hose clear w\aters nowt; And wAhere once the beaver swam, Jarred the Reheel andl froxwne(l the dani. For the wood-)bild’s imerry sin,,ginlg, Andcl the hunter’s cheer, Iron clang, and hamniier-‘s ringing ,Smote ul)on his ear Anid the thick and sullen smoke Froum the blackened forges broke. Coul(I it b)e his fathets e\er - Lov ed to ling’er-here? ‘I’hese bare hills, this conquered river, Could( they bold theim (lear, \-ithl their nati\ e loveliness ‘I’amed and tortured into this? SadIly, as the shades of even Gathered o’er the hill, \VNhile the western half of heaven Blushed with sunset still, c’rom the fountain’s mossy seat ‘I’urne(l the In(lian’s wearv feet.

Year on year hath flo\ n forever, But he came no mnore To the hillside or the river \Where he came before. 89

Page 90 view page image

I f;sren/Iar),. BuLt the villager can tell Of that stnange iman’s vxisit swell. And the merry children, laden \Vith their fruits or flovers,Roving bo\ and laughiing maiden, In their school-(lay hours, Love the simIl)le tale to tell Of the Indian ali(d his \well. THE EXILES. 1 66o. THE goodman sat beside his door One suLltry afternoon, \ith his young \Kife singing at his side An old and goo(lly tune. A glimmer of heat \was in the air; The dlark green \oo(is where still; Andl the skirts of a heave thtin(lerl-clout Hung over the Ad este-rn hill. BIlack, thick, and vast ariose that clou(d Above the vilderlless. As some dark worldl fri()o upI)erCt ai \Vere stoopl)ing, ox er this. At times the solemn thunder Ipealed. And all was still again, Save a loot muimur in the air Of coming \iniid and rain. Just as the first big rain-drop fell, A seai-v stranger came, And stood before the farmer’s door \Vith travel soiled and lame. Sad seemed he, vet sustaining hope Inas in his quiet glance, And peace, like autumn’s moonlight, clothed His tranquil countenance. go

Page 91 view page image

1HE MERRY CHILDREN, LADEN WITH THEIR FRUITS OR FLOWERS.

Page 92 view page image

-Legendary. A look, like that his Master wore In Pilate’s council-hall: It told of wrongs,-but of a love Meekly forgiv ing all. ” Friend! wilt thou give me shelter here?” The stranger meekly said; And, leaning on his oaken staff, The goodman’s features read. ” My life is hunted,-evil men Are following in my track; The traces of the torturer’s whip Are on my aged back. “And much, I fear,‘t will peril thee Within thy doors to take A hunted seeker of the Truth, Oppressed for conscience’ sake.” 0, kindly spoke the goodman’s wife, “Come in, old man!” quoth she,“We will not leave thee to the storm, Whoever thou mayst be.” Then came the aged wanderer in, And silent sat him down; While all within grew dark as night Beneath the storm-cloud’s frown. But while the sudden lightning’s blaze Filled every cottage nook, And with the jarring thunder-roll The loosened casements shook, A hea~v’ tramp of horses’ feet Came sounding up the lane, And half a score of horse, or more, Came plunging through the rain. “Now, Goodman Macey, ope thy door, We would not be house-breakers; A rueful deed thou’st done this day, In harboring banished Quakers.” 92

Page 93 view page image

T/le Fxi/es., Out looked the cautious goo(lman then, \‘ith muchl of fear an(l a\e, Fcr the-e, \ith L)-oa(l \ii d-enched( with rain, The parishl priest he sawv. “Open th dcloor, thotu \icked man, And let thy pastor in, And give God thanks, if forty stripes Repay thy dleadly sin.” ” WVhat seek ye?” quoth the goo(ldman, ” The stranger is my guest: He is \worn with toil andl grievous \rong, Pray let the old man rest.” Now, out upon thee, canting knave!” And strong hands shook the dloor. Believe mine, \Iacey,”

(Lquoth the priiest, ” Thou’lt rue thv con(Lduct sore.” Then kindled MIacev’s eye of fire: “No priest \ho \alks the earth Shall pluck avway the stranger-guest MIade w\elcome to imy heairth.” Down from his cottage vall he caught The miatchlock, hotly trie(l At Plreston -pans and Marston-moor, By fiery Ireton’s sidcle; n’here Puritan, and Cavalier, 'ith shout and psalm. contended; And Rupert’s oath, and Cromwvell’s prayer, \Vith battle-thunder blended. Up rose the ancient stranger then: “\N’ 1sl)iriit is not free To bring the wrath aind violence Of e\il men oni thee: ” And( for thyvself, I )ray forbear, Bethink thee of thv Lord, NWho healed again the smitten ear, AncI sheathed(l his follower’s sword.

93

Page 94 view page image

94 cegelldaly. “I go, as to the slaughter led: Friends of the p)oo, farewell!” Beneath his hard the oaken door Back on its hinges fell. “Come forth, old graybeard, yea and nay,” The reckless scoffers cried, As to a horseman’s saddle-bow The old man’s arms there tied. And of his bondage hard and long In Boston’s crowded jail, Where suffering woman’s prayer was heard, With sickening childhood’s wail, It suits not with our tale to tell: Those scenes have passed away,Let the dim shadowvs of the past Brood o’er that evil day. “Ho, sheriff!” quoth the ardent priest, “Take Gooclman Mlacey too; The sin of this (lay’s heresy His back or purse shall rue.”

And priest and sheriff, both together, Upon his threshold stood; \NVhen Mlacey, through another door, Sprang out into the wood. “Now, goodwife, haste thee!” Iacey cried, She caught his manly arm:Behind, the parson utrged p)ursuit, \Nith ouLtcry and alarm. Ho! speed the M\aceys, neck or naught, The river-coul-se \as near:  The t)lashing on its pebbled shore Was music to their ear. A gray rock, tasselledl o’er with birch, Abov-e the \atecr-s hung, AnIcl at its base, with e\ erv w a-e, A small light wherry swung.

Page 95 view page image

The Ax//es. 95 A leap-they gain the boat-and there The goodmani wields his oar: “Ill luck betide them all,”- he cried, “The laggards upon the shore.”

Down through the crashing underwood, The burly sheriff came: “Stand, Goodman Macey., yield thyself; Yield in the King’s own name. ; STAND, GOODMAN MACEY,-YIELD THYSELF V YIELD IN THE KING’S OWN NAIME. “Now out upon thy hangman’s face!” Bold Macey answered then, “Whip w,omen, on the village green, But meddle not with men.” The priest came panting to the shore, His grave cocked hat was gone; Behind him, like some owl’s nest, hung His wig upon a thorn. “Come back, come back!” the parson cried, “The church’s curse beware.” “Curse, an’ thou wilt,” said Macey, “but Thy blessing prithee spare.” .The Exiles. 95

Page 96 view page image

96 ” Tile scoffer!” clile( the baffled l)riest, ” Thou’it -et the gallows see.” “\N’ho’s born to be hanied, will not be drowne(l,” Quoth Mace-, imenrily; ” And so, sir sheriff and priest, good by!” He bent him to his oar, And the small boat gli(lecld quietly From the t\vain up)on the shorie. Noes in the west, the heavy clouds Scattered and fell asunder, \Vhile feebler came the rush of rain, And fainter growle(l the thunder.

And through the broken clouds, the sun Looked out serene and \warm, Painting its holy sy bl)ol-lig,ht Upon the p)assing storm. 0. b)eautiful!

that rainbo\w span, O’er dlim Crante-neck wass bended; One bright foot touched the eastern hills, And one with ocean blende(d. B\ green Pentucket’s southern sl(l)e The small boat glide(l fast, The watchers of “the Block-house” saw The strangers as they passed. That night a stalw\art garrison Sat shaking in their shoes, To hear the dip of Indian oars, The glide of birch canoes. The fisher-wives of Salisbl)ury, (The men there all awayv,) Loo()ked out to see the stranger oar Upon their w\aters play.

I)eer-Islancl’s rocks and fir-trees threw Their sunset-shaclows o’er theim, Ail Ne\wbhury’s spire an(l w\eather-cock l’eered o’er the 1)ines )efore them.

Page 97 view page image

Thc fEx/i’ls. Around the 1Ilack Rocks, on their left, The marsh lay broad and green; And on their righit, with dwarf shrubs cro\n-e(l, Plum Island’s hills were seen. \Vith skilful hand and cvary eve The harbor bar svas crosse(l;A plaything of the restless wa e, The boat on ocean tossed.

The glory of the sunset heaven On land an(l wvater lay,On the steep hills of Agawam., On cape, and bluff, and bay. They passed the gray rocks of Cape Ann, And Gloucester’s harbor-b)ar; ”lhe \atch-ftire of the garrison Shone like a setting star. How\ brightly broke the moi-niiig On Massachusetts Bay! Blue wave, and bright grell island, Rejoicing in the day. On passed the bark in safety Round isle and headland( steepl),No teml)est broke above them, No fog-cloud veiled( the dleep. Far round the bleak antd stormy Cal)e The N ent’rous Miacev )asseld, And on Nantucket’s nake(l isle I)rew up his boat at last. And howv, in log-built cabin, Thev braved the rough sea-\eather; And there, in peace and quietness. WVent down life’s vale together: How others drew around them, Anclti how their fishing sl)e(l, Until to e\ery \ind( o(f lheaven Nantucket’s sails were sl)reat(; 9 7

Page 98 view page image

Legendaly, IN LOG-BUILI CABIN THEY BRAVED THE ROUGH SEA-WEATHER. How pale Want alternated With Plenty’s golden smile; Behold, is it not written In the annals of the isle? And yet that isle remaineth A refuge of the free, As when true-hearted Macey Beheld it from the sea. Free as the winds that winnow Her shrulbless hills of sand, Free as the waves that batter Along her yielding land. Than hers, at duty’s summons, No loftier spirit stirs,Nor falls o’er human suffering A readier tear than hers. God bless the sea-beat island! And grant forevermore, That charity and freedom dwell As now upon her shore! THE NEW WIFE AND THE OLD. DARK the halls, and cold the feast,Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest: All is over, all is done, Twain of yesterday are one! Blooming girl and manhood gray, Autumn in the arms of May! 98

Page 99 view page image

Tlihe AVew Ifc aild I/ie Ol7(. Hushed \w-ithin and hushed \ithout, Dancing feet and w\restlers’ shout; Dies the bonfire on the hill; All is dark and all is still, Save the starlight, save the breeze Moaning through the graveyard trees; And the great sea-was es belo\, Like the night’s pulse, beating slow. From the brief dream of a bride She hath wakened, at his side. Edith half-uttered shriek and start,Feels she not his beating heart? And the pressure of his arm, And his breathing near and warm?

Lightly froni the bridal bed Spritngs that fair dishevelledcl head, And a feeling, new, intense, Half of shame, half innocence, Maiden fear and wonder speaks Through her lips and changing cheeks. From the oaken mantel glow\ ig Faintest light the lamp is throwing Onl the mirror-‘s antique moulld, High-backed chair, and wainscot old, Ancl, through faded curtains stealing, His dark sleeping face revealing. Listless lies the strong man there, Sil-er-streaked his careless hair; Lip)s of loxe have left no trace On that hard and haughty face And that forehead’s knitted thought Lo\ e’s soft han(i hath not unwrought. ” Yet,” she sighs, “he loves me well, Mlore than these calm lips will tell. Stoop)ing to mv low\ ly state, He hath made me rich and great, And I bless him, though he be Hard and stern to all save me!” \While she speaketh, falls the light O’er her fingers small and white; 99

Page 100 view page image

GOLD AND GE1M, AND COSTLY RING BACK THE TIMID LUSTRE FLING.’

Page 101 view page image

7’It’ -c’ 7 f [[-if(‘t’ (t/lit //t( O/(l. (;ol(l anid gemi, an d costly-rillng lBalck the timid lustre flliig,Lo-e’s selectest gifts, iand rare, His p)roud hand ha(l fastee(nl thelre. Gratefullv she miarks the glo\w Froim those tal)per-ing lines of sno\v Fon(ll- o’er the sleel)er- ) hcn(li,ll His l)lack hair \ith golclel l)lcn(ling, In hc-soft mand light ca-ess, Cheek a(nd lipl) t()ogethler )ress. Ha’-that start of horror! Why That \ildl stare and \i1ler cry, Full of terror-, full of 1)ain? Is there madness in her l)ain? Hark! that,gasping, hoatr-se and( lo-, Spare me, spar-e mce,- let me go!” God have mei-c-!-Icy-col(i Spectral lhands hler o\n enlfoll, DIra\ing silently-fromin thelm) Lo-e’s fair g-ifts of goll ianti( gem, \alkein! save me!” still is (leath At he-sitle he slumIl)e-eth. ltiii,in aind )racelet all are ()le, AnI( that ice-cold hand \‘thtliawi; But she heat-s it murmu lItiiF’ull of s\-eetnless, full of \-o), Hatlf a sigh antI( half a mil)ian: “Fear-not! -i\ e the dlead her on\!” Ah’-the d(lead \wife’s \n-oice she kno\s! That cold handl, \hose 1)ressure froze, Once in \armest life had borne Gem andl band her o\wn hath vorn. “\Vake thce! \vake thee!” Lo, his eyes Ol)en \-ith a dull surprise. In his arms the strong man foldls her, Closer to his breast hie holds her; Trembling limbs his o\n are meeting. And he feels her heart’s quick beating: ” Nay, m- clearest, vhy this fear?” “Hush!”’ she saith, “the dead is here!” i o r

Page 102 view page image

Legendar’. “Nay, a dream, an idle dream.” But before the lamp’s pale gleam Tremblingly her hand she raises,There no more the diamond blazes, Clasp of pearl, or ring of gold, “Ah!” she sighs, “her hand was cold ” Broken words of cheer he saith, But his dark lip quivereth, And as o’er the past he thinketh, From his young wife’s arms he shrinketh; Can those soft arms round him lie, Undlerneath his dead wife’s eye? She her fair young head can rest Soothed and childlike on his breast, And in trustful innocence Draw new strength and courage thence; He, the proud mnan, feels within But the cowardice of sin! She can murmur in her thought Simiple prayers her mother taught, And His blessed angels call, Whose great lov\e is over all; He, alone, in prayeriess pride, Meets the dark Past at her side! One, \who living shranik with dreadl From his look, or wordcl, or tread, Unto whom her early grave \Was as freedom to the slave, Moves him at this midnight hour, WVith the dead’s unconscious power! Ah, the dead, the unforgot! From their solemn homes of thought, WVhere the cypress shadows blend Darkly over foe and friend, Or in love or sad rebuke, Back upon the living look.

And the tenderest ones and weakest, WVho their wrongs have borne the meekest, Lifting from those dark, still places, Sweet and sad-remembered faces, O’er the guilty hearts behind An unwitting triumph find. 102

Page 103 view page image

TOUS.,SAINT L’OUVERTURE.32 ‘T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile With which Heaven dreams of Earth shed down Its beauty on the Indian isle,  On broad green field and white-walled town; And inland waste of rock and wood, In searching sunshine, wild and rude, Rose, mellowed through the silver gleam, Soft as the landscape of a dream, All motionless and dewy wet, Tree, vine, and flower in shadow met The myrtle with its snowy bloom, Crossing the nightshade’s solemn gloom,The white cecropia’s silver rind Relieved by deeper green behind,The orange with its fruit of gold,The lithe paullinia’s verdant fold,The passion-flower, with symbol holy.

Twining its tendrils long and lowly,The rhexias dark, and cassia tall, And proudly rising over all, The kingly palm’s imperial stem, Crowned with its leafy diadem,

Page 104 view page image

Voices of,reedoiii. Star-like, beneath whose sombre shade, The fieiy-winged cucullo!)iayed! Yes, lovely was thine aspect, then, Fair island of the Western Sea! Lavish of beauty, even when Thy brutes were happier than thy men, For they, at least, were free! Regardless of thy glorious clime, Unmindful of thy soil oif flonvers, The toiling negro sighed, that Time No faster sped his hours. TREE, VINE, AND FLOWER IN

SHADOW MET. For, by the dewy moonlight still, He fed the weary-turning mill, Or bent him in the chill morass, To pluck the long and tangled grass, And hear above his scar-worn back The heavy slave-.whip’s frequent crack: While in his heart one evil thought In solitary rmadness wrought, One baleful fire surviving still The quenching of the immortal mind, One sterner passion of his kind, Which even fetters could not kill.  104

Page 105 view page image

Tozlissact I’ Oiviertire. The savage hop)e, to deal, erelong, A vengeance bitterer than his strong! Hark to that cry! lolng, loud, and shrill, From field and torest, rock and hill, T’hlillinig and horrible it rang, Around, beneath, al)oe;The child beast from his cavern sprang, The w\ild bird from her grove! Nor fear, nor joy, nor agony \Vere mingled in that midnight cry; But like the lion’s growvl of w\rath, \Then falls that hunter in his path W\hose harbedl arro\v, deel)ly\ set, Is rankling in his bosom Met, It told of hate, full, dcleel), and strong, Of v\engeance kinlling out of \rIong It \vas as if the crimes of,earsThe unrequited toil, the tears, The shame and hate, wvhichl liken \well Earth’s gai-den to the nether hellHad found in nature’s self a tongue, On which the gathered horror hung As if from cliff, and stream, and glen Burst on the startled ears of men That voice \-hich rises unto God, Solemn and stern,-the cry of blood! It ceased,-and all was still once more, Save ocean chafing on his shore, The sighing of the \vicnd bet\ween The broad banaiia’s leaves of green, Or bough by restless plunmage shook, Or murmuring v oice of mountain brook.

Brief \wis the silence. Once a,gain Pealed to the skies that frantic vell, Glo\edi on the heavens a fiery stain, And flashes rose and fell; And pI)ainted on the blood-red sk-, Dark, naked arms w\ere tossed on high And, round the w\hite man’s lordly hall, Trod, fierce and free, t/he brlgte he miade; And those \eho crept along the wvall, And ans\-ere(i to his lightest call WNith more than spaniel drea(l, The creatures of his lan\less beck, \VNere traimpling on his el’ necl! T05

Page 106 view page image

Voices (f F/‘cedolm. And on the night-air, \wildl and clear, lRose \
oman’is shlrielk of nor-e than fear; For l)loodlied arms \ere rou(nd her thi-o\w-n, \cnd dark cheeks l)ressed against he-o\! TIhen, injure(l \fi-ic!-for the shutine Of thl-o\l dautg-htecis, -engeance came Full on the scorinful hearts of those, \-ho mocked thiee in th\ nameless wvoes, And, to th-hal)less chill-en ga-e One choice, p)ollution or the gra\ e \-her-e then \ as he \hIose flery zeal Had(l taughLt the trail)led heart to feel, Until dlesl)air itself g-e\ strong, And -engeance fed its torch froin \tog? No\y, \-hen the thulnle-bolt is spl)eeding No\v, hen oppli-ession’s heart is )bleeding; No\, -hen the latent curse of Time Is riling do\,n in fire and blood,That curse \hich, thriough long -eats of crime, Has gatheed(l, dropl) b\ driol), its flood, \ hv strikes he not, the foremost one, \‘l/ere murder’s sternest deeds are done? He stood the aged 1l)alms lbeneath, That shldowed o’er his humlable door, listening, -itih hialf-Susil)enldecd br)eath, To the \-ild soucnds of fear and death, Toussaint l’Oui ei ture! \What mar-\el that his heart beat hi,gh!

The blo\w for freedom had been gi\ en, And blood had ainswered to the cry \Which Earth sent u) to Hea-en \What mar-el that a fierce delight Smiled g,-rimly o’er his 1)1roxw of night,As groan andl slhoult andc l)uirsting tlame Tolcd w\hei-e the midni,,ht tempest came, \ ith blood and fire alolig its v an, And death behind!- he \as a \Ian! Yes, dark-souied chieftain!-if the light Of mild Religion’s heavenily ray Unveiled net to thv meiital sight The lo\lier and the purer -ay, In \vhich the Holy Sufferer trod, Meekly amidst the sons of crime, T’hat calm reliance u)pon God For justice in his o\ n good time,  io6

Page 107 view page image

YOolssai’iit I’ O&Z1’c/ t/‘t’. 0 That gentleness to \hlich belongs Forgil-eness for its Illall) \i()n-s, Eveni as the 1)rintial imarty-r, kneeling For miercy onl the eCil-dealing,Let not the favo-e(1 \white man namle ‘Ih- ster-n al)pp)eal, \ith orcs of blame. Has htc not, \with the light of heaven Broadly arouind hiim, made the same? Y’ea, on his thousand war-fieldcls sti\en, And gloriecl in his ghastly shame? Kneeling amidst his hibother’s bloo(l, To offer mockery unto God, As if the High and HIol- One Could siiiile on (leels of niurder done!As if a human sacrifice e\e-e puirer in his Holy e,es, Thouigh offetedcl ul) b-Christian hands, Than the foul riites of Pagan lands! * e Sternl\, amidst his household band, His carbine grasped \ithin his hand, The -hite man stood, prepared and still, \Vaiting the shock of malddlened men, Unchaine(l, and fierce as tigers, when The horn \ inds thirotughl their caverned hill. Ancl one \-as \wee)ing in his sight, The s\eetest flo\er of all the isle,The brii(le \-ho seemed bit yesterinight Lo-e’s fair-en)c)cl)oiecl smile. And, clinging to her t-emil)ling knee, Looked(l ul) the form of infancy, \‘ith teal-full g-lance in either face The secret of its fear to trace. Ha! stand or (lie!” The white man’s eye His stealv miluslket -leamed allong, As a tall \Negro hlstened nigh, -ith fearless step and strong. ”’ ha t, ho, I’otissaint!” A moment more, His shi(lo\
cr)ssecl the lighted floor. “‘A\wa-!” he shotited(‘ fly ith me,The \xhite man’s hat-k is on the seaHer sailsl mnust catch the sea\a-(l \in(l, Fo-r sldden \engeance s\eel)s b)ehintd. Our hi-ethren fiom their-graves have spoken, The yoke is spurned(,-the chain is broken 107

Page 108 view page image

1ohices f Trceedoim. On all the hills our fires are glowing,Through all the \ales red blood is tlowing! No more the moclking \Vhite shall rest His foot upon the Neg,ro’s breast \o more, at mori or e-e, shall driip The warm blood from the drixer’s \hip: Yet, though Toussaint has vengeance sworn For all the wrong,s his race have borne,Though for each drop of Negro blood The white man’s veins shall pour a flood; Not all alone the sense of ill Around his heart is lingering still, Nor (leeper can the w hite man feel Thc generous wa-imthl of grateful zeal. Friends of the Neg,ro! fly with me, The l,ath is open to the sea Away, for life!” He spoke, and pressed The youngt child to his manly breast, As, headiong, through the cracking cane, Down swept the dark insurgent train,Drunken and grim, \ith shout and yell How\led through the d(ark, like sounds from hell. Far out, in peace, the white mnto’s sail Swavedl free before the sunrise gale. Cloutl-like that island hung afar, Along the bright horizon’s verge, O’er whiich the curse of servile waar Rolled its red torrent, surge on surge; And he-the Negro champion-where In the fierce tumult struggled he? Go trace him by the fiery glare Of d\ellings in the midnight air,The yells of triumph and despair, The streams that crimson to the sea! Sleep calmly in thy (lungeon-tomb. Beneath Besancon’s alien sky, Dark Haytien!-for the time shall come, Yea, even nowv is nigh,\WVhen, everN-ywhere, thy name shall be Redeemed from co/or’s /liraro,. And men shall learn to speak of thee, As one of earth’s great sl)irits, born In servitudle, and nursed in scorn, Casting asid(le the weary weight And fetters of its lowv estate, los

Page 109 view page image

ic9 In that stronig majesty cf soul \N-hichl lnows no ccolor, tonguLe, or clime, \-hich still hath spurned the l)ase control Of tyrants thrcl-o hl all time! Far other hands than mine may wvreatlhe The laurel round thy bro\ of ldeath, And speak thy praise, as one liose w orId A thousand fiery spirits stiried,\Vho crushed his foeman as a -orm,\NVhose stel) on human hearts fell flirm:” Be mine the b)etter task to find( A tribute for thl lofty mind, Ami(lst -hose gloomy -eng,eance shlone Some mildler virtues all thine ow-n,Some gleams of feeling, pure and w\arim, Like stinshine on a sklr of storm,Proofs that the Neg,ro’s heart retains Some nobleness amidst its chains,That klind(ness to the wronLed is never \Vithout its excellent re-ard,Holy to human-kin,d and ever Acceptable to God. THE

SLA\;VE-SHIPS.34 That fatal, that perfidious bark, Built i’ the eclipse, and riged with cturses darL.” JIiltoo’s Lycida,. ” ALL ready?” cried the captain ” Ay, ay!” the seamen said; ” I-eav-e up the worthless 1,bbers,‘rhe cld-ing and the (lead.” Up from the slax-e-ship’s prison Fierce, bearded heads,,ere thrust Nowv let the shlrkls lock to it, Toss up the dead ones iirst!” Corpse after corpse came up, Death hadl been busy there; \V’here evsery blon-i, mercy, \Why should the spl)oiler spare?

Corpse after corpse they caet Suillenl,- from the ship, Yet bleody via h the t-races Of fetter-likil and wvhip. 7’lze

Page 110 view page image

Vo s U F(‘s j’ Gloomiil-stood the captain, \N’ith his amis ul)oll his breast, \With his cold bro\v sternly knotted, And his irion li1) comprI)ess(ed. “Are all the (lead (lcogs o\e-?” Grow\led throughi that matted li1), ” The blind ones are no b)ettei’, Let’s li,-lten the good ship.” Ha-rk from the ship’s (ldar-k bosom, The -ery sounld of hlell! The 1-inging clank of iiron, The imaniac’s short, sharp yell!The hoarse, lo\
curse. throat-stifledl, The starv\ ig inifant’s io()an, The horror of a breaking heart I’ouLred throulgh a motlher-‘s groan. Up from that loathsome prison FThe stricken blind ones came: Belo\, had all been dolrkness,  Above, \as still the same. Yet the holy breathl of heaxen WVas s\eetl-bl)reathing there, And the heated l)ro\v of fever Cooled in the soft sea air. “Overboard withl themi, shipinates!” Cutlass and dii-k were p)lied; Fettered and blind, one after one, Plungecl (lo\n the vessel’s side. The sabre smote above, Beneath, the lean shark lay, \Vaiting with \vi(le and )bloody ja\v His quick and human prey. God of the earth! what cries Rang up\vard unto thee? Voices of agony and blood, From ship-dcleck and fromn sea. The last dull )lunge vas heard, The last \a-e caught its stain,And the unsated shark looked ul) For human hlearts in vain. * 8 Red glo\ed the \estern acei s, The setting stun \vas there, IIO

Page 111 view page image

Tlie Slave-Stips. Scattering alike on w ave an d cloud His fiery mesh of hiair. Amidst a., group in 1)1 i nd - ness, A solitary eve Gazed, from the bur dened slaver’s deck, Into that burning sky. “A storm,” spoke out if the gazer, “Is gathering and at hand,Curse on’t-I’d give my other eye For one firm rood of land.” And then he laughed, but only His echoed laugh replied,For the blinded and the suffering Alone were at his side. Night settled on the waters, And on a stormy heaven, While fiercely on that lone ship’s track NIGHT SETTLED ON THiE WATERS, AND ON A STORMY HEAVEN. The thunder-gust was driven. “A sail! thank God, a sail!” And as the helmsman spoke, Up through the stormy murmur A shout of gladness broke. Down came the stranger vessel, Unheeding on her way, So near that on the slaver’s deck Fell off her driven spray. “Ho! for the love of mercy, We’re perishing and blind!” A wail of utter agony Came back upon the wind I I I

Page 112 view page image

Voiccs l”reedomn. ” Hell) us / for we are stricken With blindness every one; Ten days we’ve floated fearfully Unnoting star or sun. Our ship’s the slaver Leon, We’ve but a score on board,Our slaves are all gone over, Help! for the love of God!” On livid browss of agony The broad red lightning shone, But the roar of wind and thunde Stifled the answering groan; Wailed from the broken waters A last despairing cry, As, kindling in the stormy light, The stranger ship went by. In the sunny Guadaloupe A dark-hulled vessel lay,\Vith a crew who noted never The nightfall or the day. The blossom of the orange Was white by every stream, And tropic leaf, and flowxver, and bird WVere in the warin sunbeam. And the sky was bright as ever, And the moonlight slept as well, On the palm-trees by the hillside, And the streamlet of the dell: And the glances of the Creole Were still as archly deep, And her smiles as full as ever Of passion andl of sleep. But vain were bird and I)blossom, The green earth and the sky, And the smile of human faces, To the slav-er’s darkened eye; At the breaking of the morning, At the star-lit evening time, O’er a world of light and beauty Fell the blackness of his crime. I I 2

Page 113 view page image

Slanzas. STANZAS. [” The despotism which our fathers could not bear in their native country is expiring, and the sword of justice in her reformed hands has applied its exterminating edge to slavery. Shall the United States the free United States, which could not bear the bonds of a king cradie the bondage which a king is abolishing? Shall a Republic be less free than a Mlonarchy? Shall we, in the vigor and buoyancy of our manhood, be less energetic in righteousness than a kingdom in its age?”-Dr. Folen’s A ddress. ” Genius of America! -Spirit of our free institutions! where art thou? How art thou fallen, 0 Lucifer! son of the morning,-how art thou fallen from H,aven! Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming!-The kings of the earth cry out to thee, Aha! Aha! ART THOU

BECOME LIKE UNTO US?” -Slheech of SamuelJ. M1ay.] OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves in a land of light and law! Slaves crouching on the very plains Where rolled the storm of Freedom’s war! A groan from Eutaw’s haunted wood, A wail where Camden’s martyrs fell, By every shrine of patriot blood, From Moultrie’s wall and Jasper’s well! By storied hill and hallowed grot, By mossy wood and marshy glen, Whence rang of old the rifle-shot, And hurrying shout of Marion’s men The groan of breaking hearts is there,  The falling lash, the fetter’s clank! Slaves,-SLAVES
are breathing in that air Which old DeKalb and Sumter drank! 113

Page 114 view page image

Voices of Fr-eelomli. \Vhat, ho! -ozur countrymen in chains! The wnhip on W().M\AN’S shrinking flesh! Outr soil yet reccddeninig \ith the stains Caught from her scourging, warm an(l fresh WVhat! mothers from their children riven! What! God’s ownI image b)ought and sold! AMIERICAN-S to market driven, And bartered as the brute for gold! Speak! shall their agonIy of prayer Come thrilling to our hearts in vain? To us whose fathers scorned to bear The paltry iiie.( ceof a chain To us, whose b)oast is loud( and long Of holy Liberty and Light,Say. shall these w\rithing slaves of Wrong Plead vainly for their plun(leredcl Right? What! shall we send, with lavish breath, Our sy mpathlies across the w av e, Where Mlanhood, on the field of death, Strikes for his freedom or a grave? Shall prayers go up, and hymns he sung For Greece, the Moslem fetter spurning, And millions hail with pen and tongue Ouzr light on all her altars burning? Shall Belgium feel, and gallant France, By \Vendome’s pile and Schoenbrun’s wall, And Poland, gasping on her lance, ‘I’he impulse of our cheering call? And shall the SLAVE, beneath our eye, Clank o’er ouzr fields his hateful chain? And toss his fettered arms on high, Andi groan for Freedom’s gift, in vain? 0, say, shall Prussia’s banner be A refuge for the stricken slave? AndC shall the ltRussian serf go free Bv Baikal’s lake acnd Ne\ a’s Ewave? And shall the wintrv-b1somedcl Dane Relax the iron hland( of l)ridle, Ancd )i(l lis hon(dmen cast the chain, Fromn fettered soul and limb, aside? II4

Page 115 view page image

I 15 Shall c-er- flap of England’s flag IProclaiilil that all a-ouIndl are frcc, From ” farthest Iicd” to each blue crag That beetles o’er the \N’estern Sea? And shall we scoff at Europe’s kings, \Vheln Freeclom’s fire is dim with us, And round our countrv-‘s altar clings The dclamning sha(le of Slaveryi’s curse? Go-let us ask of Co,Lstantinc To loose his griasp on Poland’s throat And beg the lord of MIahmoud’s line To spare the striuggling Suliote, \Will not the scorching answer come From turbaned I urk, and scornful Russ: “Go, loose your fettered slaves at home, Then turn, and ask the like of us!” Just God! andl shall vse calnly rest, The Christian’s scorn, the heathen’s miirth,Content to li\ e the lingering jest And l) -od-cl of a mocking Earth? Shall our O\ n glorious land retain That curse \hichl Europe scorns to bear? Shall our o\n br)iethren drag the chain \Vhichl not e\ en Russia’s menials wear? Up, then, in Freedom’s manly part, From gray beard eld to fiery youth, And on the nation’s naked heart Scatter the livin\g coals of Truth! Up).- -hile Ye slumber, deeper yet ‘I he shadow of our fame is groswing! Up, Ad hile ye pause, our sun may set In b’olood, around our altars flowing! Oh! rouse ye, ere the storm comes forth, The gathered wrath of God and man,Like that Awhich wasted Egypt’s earth, \Vhen hail and fire above it ran. Hear -e no \-arniings in the air? Feel -e no earthquake underneath? Up-upl)! w-hy w\ ill ye slumber w here The sleeper only flakes in death? Sttlli,atls.

Page 116 view page image

Voices of freedonm. Up izow for Freedom! -not in strife Like that ) our sterner fathers sawv,The awful waste of human life, The glory andl the guilt of war: But break the chain,, the yoke remove, And smite to earth Oppl)ression’s rod, Withli those iiiild arms of 1’ruth and Love, Madcle miighty through the living God Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, And leave no traces where it stood; Nor longer let its idol drink His daily cup of human blood; But rear another altar there, T’o Truth and Lose and Mercy given, AndI Freedclom’s g ift, and Freecldoi’s prayer, Shall cail an answeer down from HeaveCli! THE YANKEE GIRL. SHF sings by her wheel at that low cottage-door, \hichl the long evening shadow is stretching before, \VN’ith a music as sweet as the music which seems Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our dreams! Ho\e i-illianiit andcl mirthful the light of her eye. Like at star glancing out from the blue of the sky!

Andcl lightly and freely her dlark tresses play O’er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they! \VN’ho comies in his p)ridle to that low cottage-door,‘rhe haughty and rich to the humble and poor? F is the great Southern )planiter,- the iiiaster A\ ho way-cs His wnhip of dclominion o’er hundreds of slaves. N av, Ellen, for shaime! Let those Yankee fools spiln, \Who would pass for our sla\ves with a chainge of their skin: Let them toil as thev will at the loom or the wheel, Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel! ” But thou art too lovely and precious a gem To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them,For shamie, Ellen, shame,-cast thy bondage aside, .\cnd away’o the South, as my blessing and pride. ii6

Page 117 view page image

SHE SINGS BY HEIR WVHEI, AT AT T LOW COTTAGE-DOOR.

Page 118 view page image

Voices of bJi’reedom. “0, come X-here no winter thy footsteps can wrong, But wvhere flow\ers are I)lossomiing all the year long, \Where the shade of the palln Lree is over my home, And the leinIon an(l oriange are white in their bloom! ” 0, come to my home, where my servants shall all Depart at thy bidding and colme at thy caill; They shall heed thee as mistress with trembl)ling and awe And each Perish of thy heart shall )be felt as a lawn.” 0, could ye have seen her that pride of our girlsArise and cast back the dark wealthl of her curls, \Vith a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel, And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel!

“Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou hast sold; Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear! “And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours, And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy flowers; But dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, Than the sweet summer zephlyr which breathes over slaves i “Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel, WVith the iron of bondage on spirit and heel; Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee!” TO VW. L. GARRISON. CHAMIPION of those who groan beneath Oppression’s iron hand: In view of penury, hate, and death, I see thee fearless stand. Still bearing upl) thy lofty brow, In the steadfast strength of truth, In manhood sealing well the vowv And promise of thy youth. Go on, for thou hast chosen well; On in the strength of God! Long as one human heart shall swell Beneath the tvrant’s ro(l. ii8

Page 119 view page image

Song of the Free. SI)eak in a slumbering nation’s ear, As thou hast ever spoken, Until the deadl in sil shall hear, TIhe fetter’s link be broken! 1
love thee with a brother’s love, I feel my pulses thrill, To mark thy spirit soar above The cloud of human ill. MIy heart hath leaped to answer thine, And echo back thy words, As leaps the w arrior’s at the shine And flash of kindred swords! Thev tell me thou art rash and vain, A searcher after fame; That thou art striving but to gain A long-endcluring name; That thou hast nerved the Afric’s hand And steeled the Afric’s heart, To shake aloft his vengeful brand, And rend his chain apart. Have I not known thee well, and read Thv mighty purpose long? And Watched the trials which have made Thy human spirit strong? And shall the slanderer’s demon breath Avail with one like me, TIo dim the sunshine of my faith And earnest trust in thee? Go on, the dagger’s point may glare Amid thy pathway’s gloom,The fate w\hich sternly threatens there Is glorious martyrdom! Then onwar(d with a martyr’s zeal; Press on to thy rewxarld, The hour wvhen man shall only kneel Before his father Gocld. x833. SONG OF THE FREE. PRIDE of Newv England! Soul of our fathers! Shrink wve ali craven-like, \NVhen the storm gathers? I I Q

Page 120 view page image

Vooics (f Frclcctlol/. i8 3’. \halt though,l the tempest )e Over us lowvering, \N\here’s the NeN-Eingla(nder Shamefully co\er-ing? Grav es g(reen anId holy Aroun(l us are ly ing,Free \C-ei the sleel)er-s ltl, Li-ving and (l ig! 3ack \Vith thle Southerner’s I’a(llocks and scourg,es (;o,-let himi fetter (lowvn ()ceIan’s free sur,es! (;), -let himl silence \Nind(1s, clou(is, an(l \vtters, Ne\ver \e\V EI(gland(l’s owni Free sons and (taughters Fre-e ts our riv-rs are O(cean-\w ardl go()ingl, Free as the breezes are O\ er us l)lo\wing. Ul) to our altars, then, Haste e, and(
suimmiion COt)ur’-e nttl lo\ eliness, MIanhoo( ml \ woman! 1)coI) let our l)led(l,es )’ FIrcct(lIm fore\ er ‘1Truce \ith o()l)Cressi()l Ne\ ter, (), inever 1)’\ our o\ l)irthright-ift, (;rtntet(l of Hea\cen,FIreetlom for heart antl( lil), le the p)le(lde given! If \ (C h t-e \ hisl)erC(l trulth, \Nhlisl)er no loint,er Sl)Calk s the temp l)est (lots, Steln-ert inl( sti-ronger Still l)c the tones of truth Iountdert anl firfmer, Stirtling,- thle lthaughty South \‘ith thet (lee) ilurmiur (o(l i((t our chlar-ter’s rig(ht, ‘Freet(lum fore er! ‘ITl-Luce \ itllh l))iI-tCSSi)l, Ne\C e-, (), iCe er! 120

Page 121 view page image

The Hunters of AMen. THE HUNTERS OF MEN. HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o’er mountain and glen, Through cane-brake and forest, the hunting of men? The lords of our land to this hunting have gone, As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn; Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip, And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip! HAVE YE HEARD

OF OUR HUNTING, O ER MOUNTAIN AND GLEN, THROUGH CANE-BRAKE AND FOREST,-THE

HUNTING OF MEN? All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match, 

Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch. So speed to their hunting, o’er mountain and glen, Through cane-brake and forest, the hunting of men! Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride! 12][

Page 122 view page image

Voices of Freedom. The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind, Just screening the politic statesman behind,The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer, The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there. And woman,-kind woman,-wife, widow, and mai(d, For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid: Her foot’s in the stirrup, her hand on the rein, How blithely she rides to the hunting of men! 0, goodly and grand is our hunting to see, In this “land of the brave and this home of the free.”

Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine, All mounting the saddle, all grasping the reinRight merrily hunting the black man, whose sin Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin! Woe, now, to the hunted who t’lrns him at bay! Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey? Will their hearts fail within them?-their nerves tremble, when All roughly they ride to the hunting of men? lHo! ALNMS for our hunters! all weary and faint, Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint. The horn is wxound faintly, the echoes are still, Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill. Haste, alms for our hunters!

the hunted once more Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore What right have they here in the home of the white, Shadowed o’er by our banner of Freedom and Right? Ho!-alms for the hunters! or never again Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men ALMAS,-ALMS for our hunters! why will ye delay, When their pride and their glory are melting away? The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own, Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone? The politic statesman looks back with a sigh,There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye. ), haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail, And the head of his steed take the place of the tail. ), haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then, For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men? x835. I22

Page 123 view page image

Clericzl Ojpp)ressors. CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. [In the report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, S. C., on the 4th of the 9th month, 1835, published in the Courierof that city, it is stated, ” Tle CLI,ERGY of atI denoinations attended in a body, L,ENI)ING THEtIR

SANCTION‘1‘0 THE PROCEEDINGS, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene!”] Jusr God!- and these are they \Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! MIen nacho their han(ls with prayer and b)lessing lay ()n Israel’s Ark of light! \Vhat! p)reach and kidnap men? Give thanks, anld rob thv own afflicted l)oor? Talk of thy glorious liberty, and then Bolt hard the captive’s door? \What! servants of thy own Merciful Son, who came to seek and save The homeless and the outcast,-fettering down The tasked and plundered slave! Pilate and Herod, friends! Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! Just God and holy!

is that church, which lends Strength to the spoiler, thine? Paid hypocrites, who turn Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book Of those high words of truth which search an(d burn In warning and rebuke; Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! And, in your tasselled pulpits, thank the Lord That, from the toiling bondman’s utter need, Ye pile your own full board. How long, 0

Lord! how long Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, And in thy name, for robbery and wrong At thy own altars pray? Is not thy hand stretched forth Visibly in the heavens, to awe and smite? Shall not the living God of all the earth, And heaven above, do right? 123

Page 124 view page image

Foices of Freedoin. Woe, then, to all who grind Their brethren of a common Father down! To all who plunder from the immortal mind Its bright and glorious crown! Woe to the priesthood! woe To those whose hire is with the price of blood, Perverting, darkening, changing, as they go, The searching truths of God! Their glory a,id their might Shall perish; and their very names shall be Vile before all the people, in the light Of a world’s liberty. 0, speed the moment on When Wrong shall cease, and Liberty and Love And Truth and Right throughout the earth be known As in their home above. [In a late publication of L. F. Tasistro-” Random Shots and Southern Breezes’ -is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as ” A GOOD

CHRISTIAN!”] A CHRISTIAN! going, gone! Who bids for God’s own image? for his grace Which that poor victim of the market-place Hath in her suffering won? 124

Page 125 view page image

Ihe Clii/s/(l/’,S7c.t Iy Go(l! cani such thingls l)e? Hast thou inot said that \vlwtsoe’er is (lone Unto thy \weakest and( thy humblest one Is evene done to thee? In that sa(ld victimi, then, Child of ti-hy pitying love, I see thee stan(l, Once ilore the jest-vord of a miocking l)n(l, Bound, sold, and scourgedl again! A Christian up for sale! WVet vithi her I)loo(1 -our \hip)s, o’ertask her frame, I\Iake her life loathsome x-ith your rI ong, and( sihamet, Her p)atience shall not fail! A heathen han(I migiht d(leal BIack on -our head(s the gathe-(red rong of yeirs: But her lo\, broken prayer an(l nightly tears, Ye neither heed( nor feel. Con wvell thv lesson o’er, Thou fritz/id/l teacher, tell the toiling slave No (ldanger-ous taile of Hiim vho came to sae The outcast a(nd the l)oor. But \isely-slhut the ray Of God(‘s free Gospl)el from her-siml)le healrt, Andi to her (darkened mindi( alone imll)ll-t One sterni coimimand,-OB,E’!

So shalt thou (leftly raise The mnarket p)rice of humani flesh; an(l vhile On thee, their )pail)per-e(l guest, thi( l)laniter-s smille, Thy church shall )praise. Gra-e, reverend ineni shtll tell From Northern pull)its ho\ th-w\ork \vts ble1st, \Vhile in that -ile South So(lomn first an(l l)est, Thy p)oor (liscil)les sell. 0, shaime! the *losleni thrall, \Vho, -ith his master, to the I’rol)het lkneels, \‘hile turningi to the sacre(d Kel)la feels His fetters l)reiak a(nd fall. 1 25

Page 126 view page image

Voices of Freedom. Cheers for the turbaned Bey Of robber-peopled Tunis! he hath torn The dark slave-dungeons open, and hath borne Their inmates into day: But our poor slave in vain Turns to the Christian shrine his aching eyes, Its rites will only swell his market price, And rivet on his chain.

HE HATH TORN THE DARK SLAVE-DUNGEONS OPEN, AND HATH BORNE THEIR INMATES

INTO DAY. God of all right! how long Shall priestly robbers at thine altar stand, Lifting in prayer to thee, the bloody hand And haughty brow of wrong? 0, from the fields of cane, From the low rice-swamp, from the trader’s cell,From the black slave-ship’s foul and loathsome hell, And coffle’s weary chain, I26

Page 127 view page image

Stanizas for the Tisses. Hoarse, horrible, and strong, Rises to Heaven that agonizing cry, Filling the arches of the hollow sky, HOW LONG, O GOD, HOW LONG? STANZAS FOR THE TIMES. Is this the landl our fathers loved, ‘he freedom which they toiled to win? Is this the soil whereon they moved? Are these the graves they slumber in? Are we the sons by whom are borne The mantles which the dead have worn? And shall we crouch above these graves, WVith craven soul and fettered lip? Yoke in with miarkedl and branded slaves, And tremble at the driver’s whip? Be(nd to the earth our pliant knees, And speak but as our masters please? Shall outraged Nature cease to feel? Shall Mercy’s tears no longer flow? Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel, The dungeon’s gloom, the assassin’s blow, Turn back the spirit roused to save The Truth, our Country, and the Slave? Of human skulls that shrine was made, Round which the priests of Mexico Before their loathsome idol prayed; Is Freedom’s altar fashioned so? And must we yield to Freedom’s God, As offering meet, the negro’s blood? Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought \Vhich well might shame extremest hell? Shall freemen lock the indignant thought? Shall Pity’s bosom cease to swell?

Shall Honor bl)eed? shall Truth succumb? Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb? >No;-1)- each spot of haunted ground, \VNhiere Freedomn weeps her children’s fall,IB Pl\ mouth’s rock, and Bunker’s mound, By Griswold’s stained and shattered wall, I 2 7

Page 128 view page image

Voiccs of Trc(doim. By \Tarren’s ghiost, -l)y LiangdonI’s shai(le, By all the memories of our clead! By their enlarging souls, which hurst The hands and fetters roundl them set, I)y the free Pilgrim sl)pirit nurse(l \Within our inmost )osoms, yet,I)y all above, around, )elow, Be ours the indign,ant answer, NO! No;-guided by our country’s laws, For truth, anct right, an(l suffering man, Be ours to strive in Freedlom’s cause, As Christians m)ay, -as freemen ctn! Still pouring on unwilling, ears That truth oppressiont only fears. \Vhat! shall we guard our neighl)or still, \While woman shrieks )eneath his ro(l, And while he tramples down at will The image of a common (;o(I! Shall wvatch and wvarid )e roun(l him set, Of Northern nerve and l)ayonet? And shall we kinoxw an(l share wvith him The (langer an(l the growxving shame? And( see our Freedlom’s lighlt gro\vw dim, \Vhichl shoul(l have fille(l the worldl with flame? An(l, writhing, feel, where’er we turn, A wvorld’s reproach around us l)urn? Is’t not enough that this is horme? An(I asks our haughty neighl)or mnore? Must fetters wvhich his slaves have woirn Clank round the Yankee farmer’s (loor? Must he l)e told, )esi(le his plough, \NVhat he must speak, and when, and( how? Must he be tol( his freedom stan(ls On Slavery’s (lark foundlations strong,On l)reakinig hearts anli fetteredl hand(s, On robl)ery, anld criine, and wrong? That all his fathers taught is vain,That Freed(lom”s emil)lem is the chain? 128

Page 129 view page image

I 29 Its life, its soul, from slavecry d(ra\n? False, foul, pI)rofane!

(Go, teach as \vcll Of holy Truth froim F alsehood( l)orn! Of Heav en refreshed by airs fironi Hell! Of \Virtue in the arms of Vice! Of I)eimons planting Paradise! Rail on, then, ” brethren of the South,” Ye shall not hear the truth the less;  No seal is on the Yankee’s mouth, No fetter on the Yankee’s p)ress! Fromi our Green Mlountainis to the sea, One vxoice shall thiun(ler,- \WVE ARE I,‘REE! LINES \VRITTEN ON READIN(C; IHF

SPIRITFED AND MATANLY RFEMIARKS ()F (;OVERN()R RITNER, OF PENNSYLVANIA, IN

HIS N\l:S SAGE OF 1836, ON IHE SUBJECF OF SLAVERY. THANK God( for the token!-one lip is still free,()ne spirit untrammielled, unben(lin,g one knee! Like the oak of the mountain, dleep)-roote(l and fir!m, E rect, when the multitude ben(ls to the stormn; \N’hen traitors to Freedom, and Honor, and( (;o(l, Are bIo\ved( at an Idol polluted \ith )loo(d; \Vhen the recreant North has for(gotten her trust, An(l the lip of her honor is lowv in the (lust,Thalnk Go(l, that one arm from the shackle hals )ro(ken!

Thank God, that one man as afr-ceeiiimi has sl)ole! O’er thy crags, Alleghany, a l)last has 1)een l)lo\n! I)o\vn thy ti(le, Susquehanna, the murmur has gln! To the land of the Scuth, of the charter and( chain, (Of Lil)ert sweetene(d \ith Sla very’s p)ain; \Vhere the cant of 1)emocracy (dvells on the lip)s Of the forgers of fetters, and wviel(lers of vhil)s \N’here ” chivalric” honor means really no more Than scourging of women, a(nd rol)l)ing, the p)oor! \Where the M1oloch of Slavery- sitteth on high, And the \ords vhiclh he utters, are-WORSHIP, ()R DIF! Right on\ard(l, O spl)eed( it! WVherever the bloo(l Of the \wrongedl and( the guiltless is cryi,ng to (;o(; VhIerever a sla-e in his fetters is )ininT,; \Where-er the lash of the (lri\ er is t\ining; lilies.

Page 130 view page image

Voizces of Freedoin. LIKE THE OAK OF THE MOUNTAIN, DEEP-ROOTED AND FIRM.

Wherever from kindred, torn rudely apart, Comes the sorrowful wail of the broken of heart; Wherever the shackles of tyranny bind, In silence and darkness, the God-given mind; There, God speed it onward!-its truth will be felt, The bonds shall be loosened,-the iron shall melt! And 0, will the land where the free soul of PENN Still lingers and breathes over mountain and glen,Will the land where a BENEZET’S spirit went forth To the peeled and the meted, and outcast of Earth, Where the words of the Charter of Liberty first From the soul of the sage and the patriot burst,Where first for the wronged and the weak of their kind, The Christian and statesman their efforts combined,Will that land of the free and the good wear a chain? Will the call to the rescue of Freedom be vain? No, RITNER!-her “Friends” at thy warning shall stand Erect for the truth, like their ancestral band; 130

Page 131 view page image

fines. 131 Forgetting the feuds and the strife of past time, Counting coldness injustice, and silence a crime; Turning back from the cavil of creeds, tg unite Once again for the poor in defence of the Right; Breasting calmly, but firmly, the full tide of Wrong, Overwhelmed, but not borne on its surges along; Unappalled by the danger, the shame, and the pain, And counting each trial for Truth as their gain! And that bold-hearted yeomanry, honest and true, Who, haters of fraud, give to labor its due; Whose fathers, of old, sang in concert with thine, On the banks of Swetara, the songs of the Rhine,The German-born pilgrims, who first dared to brave The scorn of the proud in the cause of the slave:Will the sons of such men yield the lords of the South One brow for the brand, for the padlock one mouth? They cater to tyrants?-They rivet the chain, Which their fathers smote off, on the negro again? No, never! one voice, like the sound in the cloud, When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud, Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed From the Delaware’s marge to the Lake of the West, On the South-going breezes shall deepen and grow Till the land it sweeps over shall tremble below! The voice of a PEOPLE, uprisen,-awake,Pennsylvania’s watchword, with Freedom at stake, Thrilling up from each valley, flung dclown from each height, “OUR COUNTRY AND LIBERTY! - GOD FOR THE RIGHT!” LINES, WRITTEN ON REAI)ING

THEF FAMIOUS “PASTORAL LETTER.” So, this is all,-the utmost reach Of priestly power the mind to fetter! When laymen think when women preach A war of words-a ” Pastoral Letter!” NowN, shame upon ye, parish Popes! Was it thus with those, your predecessors, WVho sealed with racks, and fire, and ropes Their loving-kindness to transgressors? A “Pastoral Letter,”

grave and dull Alas! in hoof and horns and features, How different is your Brookfield bull, From him who bellows from St. Peter’s! lilies. 131

Page 132 view page image

132 Your l)astoral rights an(l )owvers from harim, Thinlk ye, can \or(ls alone )reserve them? Your \wiser fatlhers tIugh(lt the arm Andl s\wordI of temnI)oral 1)ower to serve thelc. 0, glorious (lays, xvhen Church an(l State \ere \we(iledi l)y -our spirituatl fathers! An(l on SU)Ilmissive shoulders sat Y’our \Tilsons and your Cotton Mathers. No -ile “
itinerant” then coul(l mar The t)eaulty of your tranquil Zion, B)ut at his )eril of the scar Of hal,ngman’s \hi) ancl b)ran(ling,-iron. riThen, \-holesoime la\vs relieve(l thile Chiurch Of heretic and miischief-maker, An(l l)riest and l)ailiff joine(l in seircli, IJN turns, of Papi)st, \itch, an( ()ulkei-! T1he stocks \vere at each chlurch’s (loor, The gallows stoo(l on Boston Comlniiinoli, A lapl)ist’s ears the l)illory l)ore, Thle gallows-rop)e, a (Quaker \vomlll! \%our fathers (ldealt not as ye (leal \‘ith ” non-l)rofessinug” frantic teachers They hored( thle tongue w ith re(l-hot steel, n f1iae( thile )acks of “felmale I)retcheli-s Ol(l New\I)ury, lhad her field(s a tongule, Anti( Salem’s streets could tell their story, Of fa.inting woman dlragt,gel along, Gashedcl by the whil), accursed and gory! And w-ill ye ask mie, why this taunt Of ineinories sacredcl fromI the scorl t-? And why with reckless handIl I I)lait A inettle on the graves ye honor-? Not to rel)i-o ach Ne\ Ewl almtlt(‘s tieCt(l This record fromi the l)ast I suiiiilo()l, Of mallhoo(I to the scaffol(l le(l, Andcl suffering antI( heroic \woIlL. No, for yourselves alone, I turn ‘The palges of intolerance over, Thlat, in their sl)irit, (Ilark an(I stern, Ye hlial)ly imay y oi own tlis(l \! [oit-(,s (

Fl-t,t,tlolll.

Page 133 view page image

Li,ics. lor, if e clLlaim thle ” I)astoI-Ll iiht,” ‘o silence Free(loIl’s voice of wvrnill, An(d from y)our I)r(cincts shult the light Of Free(lora’s (lcty around( yc (dla\wing’; If \hen an earthquake voice of power, An(I signs in earth an(i heaven, arc sho\wlnLg Thalt forth, in its appointed hour, The Spirit of the Lor(l is going! An(l, with that Spirit, Free(loln’s light On kin(ire(l, tongue, anld l)eopl( l~)rctkin,d, ', hose sluml)ering l, iilill()nls, at thle si,ght, In glory and in strcng,tl arc \vaking! \‘hen for the sighing of the poor, An(l for the needcly, (oi hathl risen, An(i chains are rcakin, anti( a dloor Is opening for the souls il p)rison If then ye \woul(l, with puny hall(ls, Arrest the very \work of itt\ecn, And l)in(I ane\v the evil l)aln(ls \‘hich Godt’s -i,ght arnn-of l)o\evcr hath tli en, W\‘h marvel thlt, in many a min(l, ‘I’hose (Iar-ker dlee(ls of )i,,got mat(llcss Are closely w\ith your on0l, coinl)ine(l, Yet ” less in aniiger thaint ill saldlless”? \N’Vait larcirel, if thle l)eol)le lecrin ”o claIilm the right of free op)inionl?

\‘hat uarvel, if at times they sl)urn ‘fhe iancient y l(ke of your dominion? ()h, ho\v contrast, with such as ye, A Leazt l’s firee anld generous )erig! A ‘e’R,’ x C;tllll iintegrI-ity, A I’hl,s’ zeal aniL( (

Christiant (iIrilig A Fol//t,‘s soul of slcrifice, Antl.Ilta’s \ ithl kind(lnesS o\ eI-tflo(in! lo)\v-gI-een a1z(l loel\ y in the ey)es (,f fr,,t:?‘c th ir g’,racs glo\illg! Ay, t’nlrc’s IL gx i(-lolIs l-C iiinant y-et, \hose l l i)s aC \vct it I”tI ec’(iom’s f()untLinls, ‘I’he coling’

of \ hose \‘el( llC feet Is l)CLLmtifL ul )l) oL-IlOL1oun1ttinls! 133

Page 134 view page image

‘3 Vocso rc’m Men, who the gospel tidlings bring Of Liberty and Love forever, Whose joy is one abiding spring, Whose peace is as a gentle river! But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale Of Carolina’s high-souled daughters Which echoes here the mournful wvail Of sorrow from Edclisto’s waters, Close while ye may the public ear, With malice vex, with slander wound them,The pure and good shall throng to hear, And tried and manly hearts surround ther. 0, ever may the power which led Their way to such a fiery trial, And strengthened womanhood to tread The wine-press of such self-dclenial, Be round them in an evil land, With wisdom and with strength fromi Heavecn, With Miriam’s voice, and Judith’s han(l, And Deborah’s song, for triumph given! And what are ye who strive with God(

Against the ark of his salvation, Moved by the breath of prayer abroad, With blessings for a dying nation? What, but the stubble and the hay To perish, even as flax consuming, With all that bars his glorious way, Before the brightness of his coming? And thou, sad Angel, who so long Hast waited for the glorious token, That Earth from all her bonds of wrong To liberty and light has broken,Angel of Freedom! soon to thee The sounding trumpet shall be given, And over Earth’s full jubilee Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven! LINES, WRITTEN ETY, AT 4TH OF FOR THE MEETING OF THE

ANTISLAVERY SOCTCHATHAM STREET CHAPEL, N. Y., HELD ON THE THE 7TH MONTH, i834. O THOU, whose presence went l)cfore, Our fathers in their w\ eary vway, Voices of Freedoni. 134

Page 135 view page image

lines. As with thy chosen moved of yore The fire by night, the cloud by day! When from each temple of the free, A nation’s song ascends to Heaven, Most Holy Father! unto thee May not our humnble prayer be given D AND

CLUSTERED VINE, AND BLOSSOMED GRAIN, ARE BENDING ROUND EACH COTTAGE DOOR.

Thy children all, though hue and form Are varied in thine own good will, With thy own holy breathings warm, And fashioned in thine image still. We thank thee, Father!-hill and plain Around us wave their fruits once more, And clustered vine, and blossomed grain, Are bending round each cottage door, I35

Page 136 view page image

oi3 fccs of F;eedom, And peace is here; eanld hope and love Are round us as a mantle thrown, And unto Thee, supreme above, The knee of pI)rayer is bowed alone. But 0, for those this clay call bring, As unto us, no joy-ful thrill, For those -ho, Lun(ler Freecloim’s wing, Are bound in Slavery’s fetters still: For those to whomi thy livinmg w-ord( Of light and love is never given,For thl ose whose ears ha ve never hear(I The promise acnd the hopl)e of Heaven! For hroken heart, and clouded lmind, Whereon no human mercies fall,O, be thy gracious love incline(d, WVho, as a Father-, )pitiest all! And grant, O Father! that the time Of Earth’s d(leli-erance m’ay be neair, When every lan(l an(l tongue uan(l clinme The message of thy lo-e shall hear, When, smitten as with fire from heaven, The capl)tive’s chain shall sink in dust, An(l to his fettered(l soul be given l he glorious freeldom of the just! LINES, W’RITTEN FOR THE CFI,EBRAl I()N

OF’ HE THIRD ANNI VERSARY OF BRIT”ISH F’IANCIPA’I’I()N A””H, E R()ADWAY

T’ABERNACLE, N. Y., “FIRSI’ OF AUGUST”,” 1837. O HOLY FATHFR! just an(I true Are all thy works and(l \ords a(1n \wayNs, And unto thee alone are (lue Thanksgiving and eternal l)raise As children of thy gracious care, \Ce -eil the e-e, we )end( the knee, 'ith l)roken \ord(s of p)raise an(l )rayer, Father and (Go(l, w-e come to thee. I36

Page 137 view page image

ifics. For thlou hlst hea-(l, 0 God( of R\ight, The sig,hing of the islan(l slave; An(I stretche( for himi the arl of might, Not shortened that it could not staxe. The laborer sits )eneath his xvine, The shackled soul and( han(I are free, ,Th liniksgiving,!-for thle xvo()rkl is thine!

IPraise’-for the l)lessiing is of tihee! Ant(i (), we feel thv pIresence here, Th- a\wful airm in ju(ldgment -I)are Thinie e-e halth seen the l)ondnii an’s tear, Thine ear hathl hear(l the l)(n(ilmn’s prayer.

I’raise!-for the pridle of man is lo\, lThe counisels of the \ise are nau,hit, The founitains of rel)entance flow\ 'Ihat hathi our Go(l in m,ercy \roulght? Sil)ee(l on th-v \vork, Ior(l GodI of Hosts A\n(l heii the Il)o(lmana’s chlain is riven, Ant(I s\ells firom ill our gtuilty coaists IThe anthemt of the free to Hea-eli, 0, not to those \whomi tlhou lhast le(I, A \ \iith th\l ( I()L1 m1dl fire 1)CefoIre, ltlit unto thiee, in fear ani(1 (lreit(l, Be )ratise 1and glory e \ Imt1 e. \! 1IT\

F1 I’R THF NI I ERSARY CEt,El’RA’l’I()N ()I”I’t’ F’IR’SI’ OF At(;,1’-T, A” II,‘I’()N, 1846. A I:\V lI)r-ief years have p)asse(l atwaN Since B3ritaiin d(rov\e her million slaves lBeneath the trol)ic’s fiery ray: Go(I \ille(I their free(lom; an(I to-(lalN TI.if_ lIloomis al)ove those isla ntl grtves He i t!<e! across the Cu -il) Seat, \V~e heard( the clash of ireakinig chaiii.s, AnI(l felt the hearti-thirol) of the free, The first, strong p)ulse of lilberty \Vhichi thrilled along the li)ondman’s veins. 137 T I\ I” S,

Page 138 view page image

Voices of Free(dom. Though lon!g delayed, an(l far, and slow, The lriton’s triumtJ)h shall be ours: \Nears slavery here a prouder brow Tlhan that wahich tw\elve short years ago Scowled darkly from her island bowers?

Mighty alike for good or ill With mother-landl, we fully share The Saxon strength, -the nerve of steel, The tireless energy of will, The power to (to, the pride to dare. What she has done can we not do? Our hour and men are both at hand; The blast which Freedom’s angel blew ()‘er her green islands, echoes through Each valley of our forest land. Hear it, old Europe! we have sworn The death of slavery. -When it falls, Look to your vassals in their turn, Your poor dumb millions, crushed and worn, Your prisons and your palace walls! O kingly mockers! scoffing show \What deeds in Freedom’s name we d(lo; Yet know that every taunt ye throw Across the waters, goads our slow Progression towards the right and true. Not always shall your outraged poor, Appalled by democratic crimne, Grind as their fathers ground before,The hour which sees our prison door Swing wide shall be their triumph time. On then, my brothers! every blow Ye deal is felt the wide earth through; W\hatever here uplifts the low Or humbles Freedlom’s hateful foe, BIlesses the Old \NVorld through the New. Take heart! The promised hour draws near, I hear the downward beat of wings, And Freedom’s trumpet sounding clear: “Joy to the people!-woe and fear To new-world tyrants, old-world kings!” 138

Page 139 view page image

-~~~~Te aed 3 THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE IMO’FHER TO HER 1DAUGHTERS

SOLD INTO SOUTHERN BONDAGE. GONE, gone,-sold andl gone, To the rice-sxvwamli) clank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, Where the noisome insect stings, Where the fever demon strews Poison with the falling dews, Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air, Gone, gone, sold( and gone, To the rice-swamp (lank and lone, From Virginia’s hills and waters, Woe is me, my stolen daughters! (;one, gone, sold and gone, To the rice-swamp) clank and lone. There no mother’s eye is near them, There no mother’s ear can hear themn; Never, when the torturing lash Seamins their back with many a gash, Shall a mother’s kindness bless thenm, Or a mother’s arms caress them. Gone, gone,- sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia’s hills and waters, Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. 0, when wearv, sacd, and slow, From the fields at night they go, Faint with toil, and racked with pain, To their cheerless homes again, There no brother’s voice shall greet them,There no father’s welcome meet them. Gone, gone, sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia’s hills and waters, Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, sol( and( gone, To the rice-swxvamI) (lank and lone. -Tli e b’a rewell. 139

Page 140 view page image

I40 Voices of Freedom. From the tree whose shadow lay On their childhood’s place of play,  . From the cool-spring where they drank, Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank,  From the solemn house of prayer, And the holy counsels there, Gone, one, sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia’s hills and waters, Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone, sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, Toiling through the weary day, And at night the spoil er’s prey. WPHERE THE FEVER DEMON STREWS. O
that they had earlier died, Sleeping calmly side by side, Where the tyrant’s power is o’er, \nd the fetter galls no more! Gone, gone,-sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, Fromi Virginia’s hills and waters, VWoe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone,-sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. By the holy love He beareth, By the bruised reed He spareth,O, may He, to whom alone All their cruel wrongs are known, Still their hope and refuge prove, With a more than mother’s love.

Page 141 view page image

The Jorcal Warfare. Gone, gone,-sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia’s hills and waters,Woe is me, my stolen daughters! THE

MORAL WARFARE. WHEN Freedom, on her natal day, Within her war-rocked cradle lay, An iron race around her stood, Baptized her infant brow in blood; And, through the storm which round her swept, Their constant ward and watching kept. Then, where our quiet herds repose, The roar of baleful battle rose, And brethren of a common tongue To mortal strife as tigers sprung, And every gift on Freedom’s shrine Was man for beast, and blood for wine! Our fathers to their graves have gone; Their strife is past,-their triumph won; But sterner trials wait the race Which rises in their honored place, 141

Page 142 view page image

Voices of Freedom. A moral warfare with the crime And folly of an evil time. So let it be. In God’s own might We gird us for the coming fight, And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, WNe grasp the weapons He has given,The Light, and( Truth, and Love of Heaven.

THE \(OKRLD’S CONVENTION ()F THE FRIENDS OF EMIANCIPATION, HELD IN LONDON

IN I84o. YES, let them gather!-Summnon forth The pledged philanthropy of Earth, From every land, whose hills have heard The bugle blast of Freedom waking; Or shrieking of her symbol-bird From out his cloudy eyrie breaking: Where Justice hath one worshipper, Or Truth one altar built to her; Where’er a human eye is weeping O’er wrongs which Earth’s sad children know,\Nhere’er a single heart is keeping Its prayerful watch with human woe; Thence let them come, and greet each other, And know in each a friend and brother! Yes, let them come! from each green vale WVhere England’s old baronial halls Still bear upon their storied walls The grim crusader’s rusted mail, Battered by Paynim spear and brand On Malta’s rock or Syria’s sand! And mouldering pennon-staves once set \NVithin the soil of Palestine, By Jordan and Genesaret; Or, borne with England’s battle line, O’er Acre’s shattered turrets stooping, Or, midst the camp their banners drooping, With dewts from hallowed Hermon wet, A holier summons now is given Than that gray hermit’s voice of old, Which unto all the winds of heaven The banners of the Cross unrolled! 142

Page 143 view page image

7lie World(‘s Coz(etlioZli,.’. Not for the long-deserted shrine,  Not for the dull unconscious sod, Which tells not by one lingering sign That there the hope of Israel trod;  But for that TRUTH, for which alone In pilgrim eyes are sanctified The garden moss, the mountain stone, Whereon his holy sandals pressed,  The fountain which his lip hath blessed,  Whate’er hath touched his garment’s hem At Bethany or Bethlehem, Or Jordan’s river-side. For FREEDOM, in the name of Him Who came to raise Earth’s drooping poor To break the chain from every limb, The bolt from every prison door! For these, o’er all the earth hath passed An ever-deepening trumpet blast, As if an angel’s breath had lent Its vigor to the instrument. THE BUGLE BLAST 01’ FREEDOiM. And Wales, from Snowden’s mountain wall, Shall startle at that thrilling call, As if she heard her bards again; And Erin’s “harp on Tara’s wall” Give out its ancient strain, Mirthful and sweet, yet sad withal,  The melody which Erin loves, When o’er that harp,‘mid bursts of gladness And slogan cries and lyke-wake sadness, The hand of her O’Connell moves! Scotland, from lake and tarn and rill, And mountain hold, and heathery hill, Shall catch and echo back the note, As if she heard upon her air Once more her Cameronian’s prayer And song of Freedom float. And cheering echoes shall reply From each remote dependency, Where Britain’s mighty sway is known, In tropic sea or frozen zone; Where’er her sunset flag is furling, Or morning gun-fire’s smoke is curling, From Indian Bengal’s groves of palm And rosy fields and gales of balm, Where Eastern pomp and power are rolled Through regal Ava’s gates of gold; 143

Page 144 view page image

I t’o/(t-(,s (of I’-c(t’(4)nl. An(l froim thle lakes and ancient \voo(ls Andicl (lim Canaliani solitudes, \Vhence, sternly fromi her rocky throne, Oueeni of thie North, (uebec looks do\vwni; And( fionl those bilight an(l ransome(d Isles \Vhere all unl\vonte(l Freedomi smiles, An(I the dark laborer still retains The scar of slaveriy’s l)roken chainis! From thle hoar-All)s, w\hich sentinel ‘IThIe gateways of the laind of’Fell, \here imorninig’s kleen anid earliest glance ()On Jr-a’s r-ocky \-all is tl-hro\n, Acnd fromi the oli\e l)o\ei-s of Friance An(l vinie grov\es g-ai-laniding the RhoIic, “irien(ls of the Blacks,” as tirue aiid trieil As those \ ho stood( l)y Oge’s side, Ilrissot and eloqlueint Gregoire, \:hen -ith free 11i1) and hearit of fire ‘!’ he lItvtienl told( his country’s \wroung, Shall gathler at thaiit SImOInS strong,  )‘roglie, I)assy, and him w\lose song t’reatthde( over S ria’s holy so(ld, An(l in thle 1)aths \hich Jesus tro(l, An(d nllurm-ure(l midclst the hills \
liclh heiii Cro\nless andi( sad(l Jerusalem, f lath ccl hoes \her-eso’er the tone Of Israel’s l)rol)lphet-lyre is kno\. Still let tlhem comie,-from ()uito’s walls, An(l fromi the Orinioco’s ti(le, From I~ii,i’s Iinca-haunte(d halls, FrOIll Satnta Fe and Y’ucataIn, \len \Vho 1)y s\art (;uerrero’s si(le IProclaimedl the (leathlless LicH(; its O’F MAN, l)rokle every l)oncl and( fetter off, Ancl hiilled in every sal)le sei-f A free md(l l)rothicr Me.xiccanl! Ch:iefs \ho across the An(les’ clihain Ia\ e follo\ve(l Free(ldom’s l\ llin C l)ennnOI, And( secn o0n Junin’s fearful pl)illn, (;laire o’er the l)roken rankls of Sl)iin ‘I’lhe fire-l)urs-t of ()li\ ar s ctannion! Andc Ht-ti, from lher mlll()Ountain ll l, Shall scie(
the sons of those \h(o I)lc-(l I)efiiance frl-()olm hlcr llziing strand(l, ‘I’he \wr-gag-c from 1e(r l’etioln’s,(l, Al(ue a(,g inst,t hostile \ 0rl(l 144

Page 145 view page image

7’*/e [Vorld’s CUoi71icfioln. Nor all unmindful, thou, the while, Land of the dark and mystic Nile! Thy Moslem mercy yet may shame All tyrants of a Christian name, When in the shade of Gezeh’s pile, Or, where from Abyssinian hills E1 Gerek’s upper fountain fills, Or where from Mountains of the Moon E1 Abiad bears his watery boon, Where’er thy lotus blossoms swim Within their ancient hallowed waters,Where’er is heard thy prophet’s hymn, Or song of Nubia’s sable daughters,1’he curse of SLAVERY and the crime, Thy bequest from remotest time, At thy dark Mehemet’s decree Forevermore shall pass from thee; And chains forsake each captive’s limb Of all those tribes, whose hills around Have echoed back the cymbal sound And victor horn of Ibrahim. And thou whose glory and whose crime To earth’s remotest bound and clime, In mingled tones of awe and scorn, The echoes of a world have borne, My country! glorious at thy birth, A day-star flashing brightly forth, The herald-sign of Freedom’s dawn! 0, who could dream that saw thee then, And watched thy rising from afar, That vapors from oppression’s fen Would cloud the upward tending star? Or, that earth’s tyrant powers, wh Awe-struck, the shout which ha Would rise so soon, prince, peer, a To mock thee with their welcomin Like Hades when her thrones were To greet the downcast Star of M “Aha! and art thou fallen thus? Art THOU become as one of as?” WVHERF’ER THY LOTUS BLOS SOlMS SWIM.

Land of my fathers!-there will stand, Amidst that world-assembled band, Those owning thy maternal claim Unweakened by thy crime and shame, 145

Page 146 view page image

Voices of Freedom. The sad reprovers of thy wrong,The children thou hast spurned so long. Still with affection’s fondest yearning To their unnatural mother turning. No traitors they! but tried and leal, \Whose own is but thy general weal, Still blending with the patriot’s zeal The Christian’s love for human kind, To caste and climate unconfined. A holy gathering! peaceful all: No threat of war, no savage call For vengeance on an erring brother! But iin their stead the godlike plan To teach the brotherhood of man To love and reverence one another, As sharers of a common blood, The children of a commnon G(od!Yet, even at its lightest word, Shall Slavery’s darkest depths be stirred: Spain, watching from her Moro’s keep Her slave-ships traversing the deep, And Rio, in her strength and pride, Lifting, along her mountain-side, Her snowy battlements and towers,Her lemon-groves and tropic bowers, \With bitter hate and sullen fear Its freedom-giving voice shall hear; And where my country’s flag is flowing, On breezes from Mount Vernon blowing Above the Nation’s council halls, Where Freedom’s praise is loud and long, While close beneath the outward walls The driver plies his reeking thong, The hammer of the man-thief falls, O’er hypocritic cheek and brow The crimson flush of shame shall glow: And all who for their native land Are pledging life and heart and hand,Worn watchers o’er her changing weal, Who for her tarnished honor feel,Through cottage door and council-hall Shall thunder an awakening call. The pen along its page shall burn With all intolerable scorn,An eloquent rebuke shall go On all the winds that Southward blow, 146

Page 147 view page image

New, Ha misishire. From priestly lips. no\v secaled and dumb, \Varning and dread appeal shall come, Like those which Israel heard from him, The Prophet of the Cherubim, Or those which sad Esaias hurled Against a sin-accursed world! Its wizard leaves the Press shall fling Unceasing from its iron wing, WVith characters inscribed thereon, As fearful in the despot’s hall As to the pomp of Babylon The fire-sign on the palace wall!

And, from her dark iniquities, Methinks I see my country rise: Not challenging the nations round To note her tardy justice (lone, Her captives from their chains unbound, Her prisons opening to the sun - But tearfully her arms extending Over the poor and unoffending’; Her regal emblem nowv no longer A bird of prey, with talons reeking, Above the dying captive shrieking, But, spreading out her ample w\ing, A broad, impartial covering, The weaker sheltered by the stronger - O, then to Faith’s anointed eyes The promised token shall be given And on a nation’s sacrifice, Atoning for the sin of years, And wet with penitential tears,‘Fhe fire shall fall from Heaven! x839. NEW\ HAMPSHIRE. I 845. GOD
bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks. The long-boundc vassal of the exulting South For very shame her self-forged chain has broken,Torn the black seal of slavery from her mouth, And in the clear tones of her old time spoken! 0, all undreamed-of, all unhoped-for changes!  The tyrant’s ally proves his sternest foe; To all his biddings, from her mountain ranges, New Hampshire thunders an indignant No! 147

Page 148 view page image

I48 \ ho is i. o\nv (lesl1):1irs? O, faint of hlci-t, Look ul)w\ard-to thosc Northlr In mountaiins col(l, Floute(c l)y Freedoin’s victor-flag u)rolle(l, Anci gather streng,th to bear a 1mainlier l)irt! All is not lost. IThe angel of (Go(l’s l)lcssing, IEncampil)s vithi Freedlom on the fiel(l of fiight; Still to her l)ainner, (lday )v (lay, are pre5ssin(, Unilooklel-fo-r allies, strikinig for the -i,ht! Couira-e e, then, NI)rthcrn ts! t Ile 1l tii, 1) ti’ t-i(e \‘hIit one l)ra\e State hlathi (loe, ctn e not lso() (l? THFI NI \V YI AR: AI)I)RESSED) I() TIlE

PAITR()NS ()F THI PENNSYV,\ANI A FRE, I A N. THE wavNe is l)reaking on the shlore, The echo fa(Iling fromn the chimie,Ag,inn the shadow\ mov eth o’er The (lial-)late of time! (), seer seen An e,Cl! itin now WVith wveai-y feet on seat in(l sihor-e, Impaitienit for tile llst Ire (l \ ow IlThat time shall l)e nIo more! Once moi-ce acioss tly sleep)less e-e The semhlanlce of a smile lits )passe(l: The yNear d(eparting, leav es miore nigh Timile’s ferftillest ind last. O, ill tllhait (ly im y,ear hlatih )een IThe stim of all since time l)egan,  The l)irth and death, the joy and pain, O)f Nature and of Man. Spring,, x-ith her can()e of sun an(l sho\e-r, AnI( strealis releise(l froim \Vinter-‘s chiili, An(I hursting )u(l, anI( olpening flower, An(l greenly gro ing grai; An(l Suiimmer’s slhat(le, an(l suni shine tNvarm, And rainhl)ows o’er her h-ill-topls l)owed, An(l n-oices in her rising stormi, God( speaking fromi his cloud(!

vol’t-t,s (

Page 149 view page image

SPRING, WITH HFR C.I.ANGE OF SlUN AND SHOWER.

Page 150 view page image

Voices of Freedoai. And Autumn’s fruits and clustering sheaves, And soft, warm days of golden light, The glory of her forest leaves, And harvest-moon at night; And Winter with her leafless grove, And prisoned stream, and drifting snow, The brilliance of her heaven above And of her earth below: HIs CHILDHOOD’S MERRIEST LAUGHTFR RUNG. And man, in whom an angel’s mind With earth’s low instincts finds abode, The highest of the links which bind Brute nature to her God; His infant eye hath seen the light, His childhood’s merriest laughter rung, And active sports to manlier might The nerves of boyhood strung! And quiet love, and passion’s fires, Have soothed or burned in manhoodcl’s breast, And lofty aims and low desires By turns disturbed his rest. 150

Page 151 view page image

The Neew Year. The \ailing of the newly-bornl Has nmingled faith thie funeral knell; And o’er tile d)ing’s ear has gone The merry marriage-l)ell. And \Vealth has filled his halls with mirth While WNant, in many a humble shed, Toiled, shivering by her cheerless hearth, The li\e-long Inight for bread. And worse than all,-the human slave, The sport of lust, and pride, and scorn! Plucked off the crown his Maker gave, His regal manhood gone! 0, still, Wy) country’ o’er thy plains, Blackened with sla,ery’s blight and ban, That human chattel drags his chains, An uncreated man! And still, where’er to sun and breeze, lIy country, is thy flag unrolled, WNith scorn, the gazing stranger sees A stain on every, fold. 0, tear the gorgeous emblem down! It gathers scorn from every eye, And despots smile and good men frown Whene’er it passes by. Shame! shame!

its starry splendors glow Above the slaver’s loathsome jail,Its folds are ruffling even now His crimson flag of sale. Still round our country’s proudest hall The trade in human flesh is driven, And at each careless hammer-fall A human heart is riven. And this, too, sanctioned by the men Vested with poxver to shield the right, And throw each vile and robber den Wide open to the light. 15 1

Page 152 view page image

Voices of Fi’le’eoilm. Yet, slhamie ul)pon thein’-thiere the) sit, MIen of the North, sul)dclue(l and still; Mleek, pliant poltroons, only fit To \ork a miaster’s trill. Sold, bargained off for Southern votes, A passive herd of Northern mules, Just braying through their purchasedl throats \Vhatc’er their owner rules. And he,3’ the basest of the base, The vilest of the vile,- whose name, Elnbalmied in infinite disgrace, Isl deathless in its shame! A tool, to bolt the people’s door Against the people clamoring there, An ass, to trample on their floor A people’s right of prayer! Nailed to his se’:-inade gibbet fast, Self-pilloried to the public view,A inark for every passing blast Of scorn to whistle through; There let himn hang, and hear the boast Of Southrons o’er their pliant tool,A St. Stylites on his post, “Sacredcl to ridicule!” Look wve at home! our noble hall, To Freedomn’s holy purpose given, Now rears its black and ruined wall, Beneath the wintiy hea,ven, Telling the story of its (loom, The fiendish mob, the prostrate law,The fiery jet through midnight’s gloom, O’rr f, thousands savw. Look to our State, the poor man’s right Torn from him:-and the sons of those Whose blood in Freedclom’s sternest fight Sprinkled the Jersey 5sno0Vs, 1 5 2

Page 153 view page image

The NVew Year. Outlawed within the land of Penn, That Slavery’s guilty fears might cease, And those whoim God created men Toil on as brutes in peace. Yet o’er the blackness of the storm A bow of promise bends on high, And gleams of sunshine, soft and warm, Break through our clouded sky.

East, \est, an(l North, the shout is heard, Of freemen rising for the right: Each valley hath its rallying \ordl, Each hill its signal light.

O’er Massachusetts’ rocks of gray, The strengthening light of freedom shines, Rhode Island’s Narragansett Bay, And Vermont’s snow-hung pines!

From Hudson’s frowning palisades To Alleghany’s laurelled crest, O’er lakes and prairies, streams and glades, It shines upon the \West. Speed on the light to those who dwell In Slavery’s land of woe and sin, And through the blackness of that hell, Let HeaN-en’s own light break in. So shall the Southern conscience quake Before that light poured full and strong, So shall the Southern heart awake To all the bondman’s wrong. And from that rich and sunny land The song of grateful millions rise, Like that of Israel’s ransomed band Beneath Arabia’s skies: And all who now are bound beneath Our banner’s shadle, our eagle’s wing, From Slavery’s night of moral death To light and life shall spring. 153

Page 154 view page image

54 Voices of Freedom. Broken the bondman’s chain, and gone The mnaster’s guilt, and hate, and fear, And unto both alike shall dawn A New and Happy Year. x839. MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA. [Written on reading an account of the proceedings of the citizens of Norfolk, Va., in reference to GEORGE

LArIMFR, the alleged fugitive slave, the result of whos, case in Massachusetts will probably be similar to that of the negro SOMERSET in England, in 1772.] THE blast from Freedom’s Northern hills, upon its Southern way, Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay: No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle’s peal, Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen’s steel. No trains of deep-mouthed cannon along our highways go, Around our silent arsenals untrodden lies the snow; And to the land-breeze of our ports, upon their errands far, A thousand sails of commerce swell, but none are spread for war. We hear thy threats, Virginia! thy stormy words and high, Swell harshly on the Southern winds which melt along our sky; Yet, not one brown, hard hand foregoes its honest labor here, No hewer of our mountain oaks suspencs his?xo in f ar, I^ I

Page 155 view page image

Afassacihusetis to Virto i&‘glza. -ild are the waves which lash the reefs along St. George’s bank,Cold on the shore of Labrador the fog lies white and dank; I hr-ough storm, and wave, and blinding mist, stout are the hearts w\hich man , lTe fishing-simacks of -Iarblehead, the sea-boats of Cape Ann. TIhe cold north light and wintry sun glare on their icy foriis, Beict grinly o’er their straining lines or wrestling with the storms; I ree as the w\in(‘s they drive before, rough as the waves they roam, They laugh to scorn the slaver’s threat against their rocky home. What means the Old Dominion? Hath she forgot the day AR”hen o’er her conjcuered valleys swept the Briton’s steel array? -Iow-side bv side, with sons of hers, the Massachusetts men Encounteredl Tarleton’s charge of fire, and stout Cornwallis, then? Forgets she how the Bay State, in answer to the call Of her old House of Burgesses, spoke out from Faneuil Hall? \‘hen, echoing back her Henry’s cry, came pulsing on each breath Of Northern winds, the thrilling sounds of “LIBERTY OR DEATH!” \Vhat asks the Old Dominion? If now her sons have proved False to their fathers’

memory,-false to the faith they loved, If she can scoff at Freedom, and its great charter spurn, M\ust w\e of Massachusetts from truth and duty turn? e huniit y)our bondmen, flying from Slavery’s hateful hell,Our v-oices, at your bidding, take up the bloodlhound’s yell,Wec gather, at ) our summons, above our fathers’ graves, Froin Freeclom’s holy altar-horns to tear your wretched slaves! Thank God! not yet so vilely can Mlassachusetts bow; The spirit of her early time is with her even now; Dream not because her Pilgrim blood moves slow and calm and cool, She thus can stoop her chainless neck, a sister’s slave an(i to.!’ 15 5

Page 156 view page image

I56 I oices of breedovm. BENT GRIMLY O’ER THEIR STRAINING LINES OR

WRESTLING WITH 1T H’l’OIRMS. All that a sister State should do, all that afree State may, Heart, hand,;and purse we proffer, as in our early day; But that one dark loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone, Arid reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown! Hold, while ye may, your struggling slaves, and burden God’s free air \Vith woman’s: shriek beneath the lash, and manhood’s wild despair;.. Cling closer to the “cleaving curse” that writes upon your plains ‘The blasting of Almighty wrath against a land of chains. Still shame your gallant ancestry, the cavaliers of old, By watching round the shambles where human flesh is sold, Gloat o’er the new-born child, and count his market value, when The maddened mother’s cry of woe shall pierce the slaver’s den!

Page 157 view page image

Jfrss(zlch sllisds Ilt )zl’]grl’t l‘5. Lo\ver than plummet soundcleth.

sink the’Vii-ginia name-; ‘lant, if ve wsill, Xour fathers’ graves w\ith rankest weeds of shame; l’e, if ye \ill, the scandal of God’s fair universe,\e -ash our hands forever of your sill and shame and curse. A voice from lips w\ hereon the coal fromi Freedoma’s shrine hath been, Thrilled, as but yesterday, the hearts of Berkshire’s mountain men: The echoes of that solemn voice are sadly lingering still In all our sunny valleys, on ev\ery wind-s\ept hill. .\ncld \hen the pro\fling man-thief came hL1unting for his prey Beneath the ver  shadow\ of Bunker’s shaft of gray, lto\, through the free liI)s of the son, the father’s waarning spoke: Ho\, from its bonds (of tiade and sect, the Pilgrimn city broke! A huni(li-el thousand right arms \were lifted up on high,A hundred thousand voices sent back their loud reply; Thrlough the thirongedl to\xns of Essex the startling sumimons rang, And up from bench and loomn and wheel her young mechanics sprang! The voice of fr-ee, broad’iddiclesex, of thousands as of one,  ‘Ihe shaft o)f 13Bunker callin(, to that of Lexington,From Noi folk’s ancient villages, from Plymouth’s rocky bound To \ here Nantucket feels the arms of ocean close her round; Fir)m rich and rural \VNorcester, wAhere through the calm repose Of culturecld vales and friging woods the gentle Nashua flowts, I’o where \Vachuset’s \intry blasts the mountain latches stir, S\ elledI up to Heaven the thrilling cry of ” God save Latimer!” Andt sndc I3arnstable rose up, Diet with the salt seasprav,-\ii(l I-istiol sent her answering shout clown Narragansett Ba!

Along the l)roadl Connecticut old Hamtl)den felt the thrill, And the cheer of Hampshire’s woocldmien sw\ept down from HoI-oke Hill. ‘Fhe voice of MIassachutsetts! Of her free sons and daughters,Deep calling unto deep aloutl,-the sound of many waters! Against the )ur(len of that voice what tyr-ant I)ower shall stand? .' () I’Ie1) iih /g i A u!, S(t/! AVo sla(zz)e lfoiz er latzd./ 15 7

Page 158 view page image

Voices of Freedonm. Look to it well, Virginians! In calmness we have borne, In answer to our faith and trust, your insult and your scorn; You’ve spurned our kindest counsels, you’ve hunted for our li\es,And shaken round our hearths and homes your manacles and gyves! We wage no war, we lift no arm, we fling no torch within The fire damps of the quaking mine beneath your soil of sin; \Ve leave ye with your bondmen, to wrestle, while ye can, \Vith the strong upward tendencies and godlike soul of man! But for us and for our children, the vow which we have given For freedom and humanity is registered in heaven; No slave-huni zn our borders,-no fibrate on our strand! lVo fellers zn the Bay Stale, no slave upon our land! 158 I ……… 1.. 1-11…….. I I

Page 159 view page image

7’/Ie -Relic. [P NNSYLVANIA HALL, dedicated to Free Discussion and the cause of human liberty, was destroyed by a mob in 1838. The following as written on receiving a cane wrought from a fragment of the wood-oik w hich the fire had pared.] TOKEN of friendship true and tried, From one whose fiery heart of youth With mine has beaten, side by side, For Liberty and Truth; \Vith honest pride the gift I take, And prize it for the giver’s sake. But not alone because it tells Of generous hand and heart sincere; Around tiha gift of friendship dwells A memory (loully dear,Earth’s noblest aim,man’s holiest thought, W ith that memorial frail inwriought! I Pure thoughts and sweet, like flowers unfold, And precious memories round it cling, Even as the Prophet’s riod of old, In beauty blossoming: And buds of feeling pure and good Spring from its cold unconscious wood. ir59 -iowES;Erz n

Page 160 view page image

Voices of Freedom.. Relic of Freedom’s shrine! a brand Plucked from its burning!-let it be Dear as a je\el from the hand Of a lost friend to me!Flow\er of a perished garland left, Of life and beauty unbereft! 0, if the young enthusiast bears, O’er wearv waste and sea, the stone Which crumbledl from the Forum’s stairs, Or round the Parthenon; Or olive-bough from some \vildl tree Hung over old Thlermopylae: If leaflets from some hero’s tomb, Or nloss-wAreath torn from ruins hoary,Or faded flo\ers w\hose sisters bloom On fields renowne(ld in story,Or fragment from the Alhainbra’s crest, Or the gray rock by Druids blessed; Sad Erin’s shamrock greenly growing Where Freedom led her stalwart kern, Or Scotia’s “rough bur thistle” blowing On Bruce’s Bannockb)urn, Or Runinymede’s \ild English rose, Or lichen plucked from Sempl)ach’s snows: If it be true that things like these T’o heart and eye bright Xisions bring, Shall not far holier memories To this memorial cling? Which needs no mellowxving mist of time To hide the crimson stains of crime! \VNreck of a temple, unprofaned,  Of courts where Peace with Freedom trod, Lifting on high, with hands unstained, Thanksgiving unto God; Where Mercy’s voice of love was pleading, For human hearts in bondage bleeding! Where, midst the sound of rushing feet An( cuLrses on the nighlt-air flung, Thlt l)leadii,g voice rose calm and swxveet From w\oman’s earnest tongue; i6o

Page 161 view page image

TIze Bl-tlldit Hffall. And Riot turned his scowling glance, Aw-ed, from her tranquil countenance! That temple now in ruin lies!  The fire-staini on its shattered wall, And open to the changing skies Its black and roofless hall, It stands before a nation’s sight, A gravestone over buried Right! But from that ruin, as of old, The fire-scorched stones themselves are c ryni!l, And from their ashes w\hite and cold Its timbers are replying! A voice which slavery cannot kill Speaks from the crumbling arches still! And even this relic from thy shrine, O holv Freedom! hath to me A potent l)o\er, a voice and sign To testify of thee; And, grasping it, methinks I feel A dieeper faith, a stronger zeal. And not unilike that mystic rod, Of old stretched o’er the Egyptian wave, -hich opened, in the strength of God, A pathw\ay for the slave, It yet may point the bondsnman’s vway, And turn the spoiler from his prey. THE BRANDED HAND.

I846. 'ELCOMiE home again, brave seaman! with thv thoughtful browi atnd (ray, Aiid the old( heroic spirit of our earlier, better day,\Vith that front of calm endurance, on whose steady nerve in vain Pressed the iron of the prison, smote the fiery shafts of pain! Is the tyrant’s brand upon thee? Did the brutal cravens aim To make God’s truth thv falsehood, his holiest work thy shame? \Vhen, all blood-quenched, from the torture the iron waas with clrawn, lio\s laughed their evil angel the baffled fools to scorn! i6i

Page 162 view page image

,ozi’ccs of -ricedonl. T/zey change to \-roing the duty \X hich God hath wr itten out O01 the great heart of humanitv, too le,ib)le for douibt!

T/ize, the loathsome moial lel)eis, blotched from footsole up to crow\Vn, Give to shame \what God hath gi\en unto honor an(l reIenown)! \Why, that brand is highest hoinor!-than its traces never yet ULpon (ld arimouil hatchmeuts -as a 1)roudler blazon set; And th\ unboi-n generati,ons, as the\ ti-ead our ri-ock\ str-and, Shall tell w ith 1),-idcle the story of their father’s BRANDED HAND! As the Templar home was w\elcome, bearing back from Syrian \wars The scars of Airab) lanices and of Paniiim scymitars, The pallor of the prison, and( the shackle’s crimson span, So w\ e meet thee, so \ e greet thee, trutest frien(l of God and maii. He suffered for the ransom of the dear Redeemer’s grave, Thou for his li ing )presence in the )ound andcl blee(linig slave; He for a soil no longer bv the feet of angels tiro(l, Thou for the true Shechinah, the I)reseniit home of God! For, wahile the jurist, sitting w ith the sla-e-wvhip o’er him sewung, From the tortured( truths of freedom the lie of slavery wrung, And the solemn priest to MIoloch, on each God-deserted shrine, Broke the bondman’s heart for bread, poured the bondman’s blood for wine, \Vhile the multitude in blindness to a far-off Saviour knelt, And sprned(, the w hile, the temple where a present Saviour dw\elt Thou beheld’st him in the task-field, in the prison shadows dim, And thy mercy to the bondman, it was mercy unto him! In thv lone an(I long night-\-atches, sky above and wave below, ‘I lou (li,ist learn a hi’her \ isd(om than the babbling school imen kino\: God(‘s stars an(l silence taighlt thee, as his angels only can, That the one sole sacred thing beneath the copl)e of heaven is Man! That he who treads profanely on the scrolls of law and creed, In tlhe depth of Godcl’s great goodness may find mercy in his need; IBut \woe to him -ho crushes the SOUL, with chain and ro(ld, And hel-(Is with lower natures the aw\ful form of God! i62

Page 163 view page image

7’exas. Then lift that manly right-hacnd, bold ploughmana of the \ave! Its branded palmi shall piophlles, ” SLVrA1IOxN TO THE SLAVE!’ Hold up its fire-w-rought language, that \hoso reads may feel His heart sw\ell strong \ithin him, his sine-s change to steel. Hold it up before our sunshine, upl) against our Northern ai-r,Ho! men of mIassachusetts, for the lose of Go(l, look there! Take it henceforth for -our stan(lar(l, like the Bruce’s heart of yore, In the dark strife closing round ye, let that hand be seen before! And the tyrants of the sla-e-landcl shall tremble at that sign, NVhen it points its finger Southward along the Puritan line: \VN’oe to the State-gorged leeches and( the Chtirch’s locust banld, \N’hen they look fromnt slat-cry’s rampl)arts on the comllng oi that hand! TEXAS. VOICE OF

NEW ENGLAND. UP the hillside, down the glen, Rouse the sleeping citizen; Summon out the might of men! Like a lion gros ling low,  Like a night-storm rising slowv,Like the tread of unseen foe, It is coming,-it is nigh! Stand your homes and altars by; On your own free thresholds die.

Clang the bells in all your spires; On the gray hills of your sires Flinig to heaven your signal-fires. From \VachuLset, lone and bleak, Unto Berkshire’s tallest pea<k, Let the flame-tongued heralds speak. 0, for God anti dutytv stand, Heart to heart and hand to hand, Round the old graves of the land. i63

Page 164 view page image

Voices of ~reedoi)i. \Whoso shrinks or falters now, \Whoso to the yoke would bow, Brand the craven on his brow! Freedom’s soil hath only place For a free and fearless race, None for traitors false and base. CLANG THE

BELLS IN ALL YOUR SPIRES. Perish party, perish clan, Strike together while ye can, Like the arm of one strong man. Like that angel’s voice sublime, Heard above a world of crime, Crying of the end of time, Mlith one heart and with one mouth, Let the North unto the South Speak the word befitting both: i64 i i

Page 165 view page image

Texas. ” \VNhat though Issachar be strong! Y’e may load his back with wrong Overmuch and over long: ” Patience with her cup o’errun, \VNith her \Weary thread outtsl)un, MNurnLmurs that her work is (ldone. ” Make our Union-bondc a chain, \Veak as towv in Freedolm’s strain Ilink by link shall snap in twain. ‘ “aiinl, shall your sand-wrou,ght r(l)c BIind the starry cluster up, Shattered ovxer heaven’s blue col)t! “Give us bright though broken rays, Rather than eternal haze, Clouding o’er the full-orl)ed( blaze. “Take ~‘our land of sun and bloom; Only leave to Freedom roomn For her plough, and forge, and loomiI; “Take your slavery-blackene(l vales; Leave us but our own free gales, Blow\ing o)n our thousand sails. ” Boldly-, or xx ith treacherous art, Strike the bloo(l-\rought chain apart; Break the Union’s mighty heart; “\Vork the ruin, if ye will; Pluck upon your heads an ill \Vhich shall grow and deepen still. “\V,ith your bonclman’s right arm bare, \Vith his heart of black dlespair, Stand alone, if stand ye dare! ” Onward with your fell design; Dig the gulf and draw the line: Fire beneath your feet the mine: Deeply, X-hen the wvide abyss Yawns b)etween your land and this, Shall ye feel your helplessness. i65

Page 166 view page image

[Xoiccs of Freedov/;l. ” B the hearth, and in the l)e(d, Shaken b) at look or tread, 'e shall ovni a guilty dclreald. “And the curse of unpaid toil, Don\nard thirotuglh your gencrous soil Like a fire shall burn and(
sp)oil. Ourt bleak hills shall bud and blowr, Vines our rocks shall overbro\w, Plenty in our \alleys flo\v; ” And Ad hen vengeance clouds your skies, Hither shall ye turn your eyes, As the lost on P’aradise! ” \We but ask our rocky strand, Freedom’s true and brother banld, Freedom’s strong and honest hand, “Valleys by the slave untrod, And the Pilgrim’s mountain sod, Blessed of our fathers’ God!” TO FANEUILI, HALL. 1 844. MEN!-if manhood still ye claim, If the Northern pulse can thrill, Roused by wrong or stung by shame, Freely, strongly still,Let the sounds of traffic die Shut the mill-gate,- leave the stall,Fling the axe and hammer lby, Throng to Faneuil Hall! \Vrongs whichl freemen never brooked, Dangers grim and fierce as they, \Vhich, like couching lions, looked On your fathlers’

way,These your instant zeal demand, Shaking wAith their earthquake-cm.1

Every rood of Pilgrim land, Ho, to Faneuil Hall! i66

Page 167 view page image

To,[~tssac/lhusetts. From Y-our capes and sandy bars, From your miountain-ridges col(l, Through whose pines the westering stars Stoop their crowns of gold, Come, and with your footsteps wake Echoes from that holy wall; Once again, for Freedom’s sake, Rock your fathers’ hall! Up, and tread beneath your feet Every cord by party spun: Let your hearts together beat As the heart of one. Banks and tariffs, stocks and trade, Let themn rise or let them fall: Freedom asks your common ai(l, Up, to Faneuil Hall! Up, and let each voice that speaks Ring from thence to Southern plains, Sharply as the blow which breaks Prison-bolts and chains!

Speak as w\vell becomes the free: D)readed more than steel or ball, Shall your calmest utterance be, Heard from Faneuil Hall! Have they wronged us?

Let us then Render back nor threats nor prayers; Have they chained our freeborn men? LET US UNCHAIN THEIRS! Up, your banner lead(s the van, Blazoned, ” Liberty for all!” Finish vwhat your sires began! Up, to Fanleuil Hall! TO MASSACHUSETTS. 1844. WVHAT though around thee blazes No fiery rallying sign? From all thv owvn high places, Give heaven the light of thine! i67

Page 168 view page image

of F1rccdo,. What though unthlrilled(l, unmox int, The statesiman stiands apart, And comies no varnm approving From MIammon’s crowded Illart? Still, let the land be shaken By a suimmons of thine own! By all save truth forsaken, WNhy, stand with that alone! Shrink not front strife une(lual!

\With the best is al\wa,ys hope And ever in the seqluel God holds the right side up But when, withl thine uniting, Come voices long antd loud, And far-off hills are writing Thyl) fire-wvord(s on the cloud; When from Penol)scot’s fountains A deep response is heard, And across the Western mountains Rolls back thy rallying word; Shall thy line of battle falter, \~ ith its allies just in view? 0, by hearth and holy altar, My fatherland, be true! Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom! Speed them onward-(l far and fast! Over hill and valley speed them, Like the sibyl’s on the blast! Lo! the Emplire State is shaking The shackles from her hand WVith the rugged North is waking, The level sunset land! On they come,-the free battalions! East and West and North they come, And the heart-beat of the millions Is the beat of Freedlomn’s drum. To the tyrant’s plot no favor! No heed to place-fed( knaves! Bar and bolt the door forever Against the land of slaves!” Hear it, mother Earth, and( hear it, The Heavens abovNe us spread The land is rouse(l, its spirit WVas sleeping, but not (lead i68

Page 169 view page image

t The Pine-Tree. I 846. LIFT again the stately em blem on the BUay State’s rusted shield, Give to Northern winds the Pine-Tree on our banner’s tattered field. Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles -W; round the board, “~;;;:- Answering England’s roy al missive with a firm, “THUs SAITH THE LORD!” ” Rise again for home and freedom!-set the battle in array! What the fathers did of old time we their sons must do to-day. Tell us not of banks and tariffs,-cease your paltry pedler cries,Shall the good State sink her honor that your gambling stocks may rise? Would ye barter man for cotton? That your gains may be the same Must we kiss the feet of Moloch, pass our children through the flame? Is the dollar only real?-God and truth and right a dream? Weighed against your lying ledgers must our manhood kick the beam? 0 my God! for that free spirit, which of old in Boston town Smote the Province House with terror, struck the crest of Andros down!For another strong-voiced Adams in the city’s streets to cry, “Up for God and Massachusetts!-Set your feet on Mammon’s lie I I i6g

Page 170 view page image

I70’oices of Freeiom. Perish banks and perish traffic,-spin lour (cotton’s latest pound,But in Hea-en’s name keep -our honor,ke the heart o’ the Bay State sound \NVhcrc’s the MAN for \Iassaclchusetts? \Vhere’s the v oice to speak her free? \Vhere’s the hand to light up l)onfires from her mountains to the sea? Beats her Pilgrim pulse no longer? Sits she ldumb in her despair?Has she none to break the silence? lHas she none to do and dare? O my God! for one right Worthy to lift up her rusted shield, And to plant again the Pine-Tree in her banner’s tattered field. LINES, SUGGESTED

BY A VISIT‘10 THE CITY OF WASHINGTON, IN THE TWELFTH M\()NiH OF 1845.

WVITH a cold and wintry noon-light, On its roofs and steeples shed, Shadows Weaving With the sunlight From the gray sky overhead, Broadly, vaguely, all around me, lies the half-built town out spread. Through this broad street, restless ever, Ebbs and flo\vs a human tide, \Vave on wave a liv\ing river; \Vealth and fashion sidle by side FToiler, idler, slave and master, in thesame quick current glide. Underneatlh yNon dome, Whose ceping Sp)rings ablove them, vast and tall, Grade men in the dust are groping For the largess, base and small, Which the hand of Power is scattering, crumbs Which frown its table fall. Base of heart! They vilely barter Honor’s Wealth for party’s place: Step by step on Freeldon’s charter Leaving footprints of dlisgrace For to-day’s poor pittance turning from the great hope of their race.

Page 171 view page image

ziFies. Yet, where festal lam!nl)s are throwing Glory round the dancer’s hair, Goldc-tressedcl, like an angel’s, flowing Backwaid on the sunset air; And the low quick pulse of music beats its measure sweet and rare: There to-night shall woman’s glances, Star-like, wvelcomne give to them, Fawning fools wNith shy advances Seek to touch their garments’ hem, \With the tongue of flattery glozing deeds which God and Truth condemn. From this glittering lie my vision ‘Fakes a broader, saddier range, Full before me have arisen Other pictures dark and strange; From the parlor to the prison must the scene and witness change. Hark! the heavy gate is swinging On its hinges, harsh and slovw; One pale prison lamp is flinging On a fearful group below Suchl a light as leaves to terror whatsoe’er it does not show. Pitying God! Is that a WOMAN On whose wrist the shackles clash?

Is that shriek she utters human, Underneath the stinging lash? Are they MIEN whose eyes of madness from that sad procession flash? Still the dance goes gayly onward! \Vhat is it to \Vealth and Pride That without the stars are looking On a scene which earth should hide? That the SLAVE-SHIP lies in waiting, rocking on Potomac’s tide! Vainly to that mean Ambition \Which, upon a rival’s fall, \Winds al)o-e its old( condition, \‘ith a repl)tile’s slimy crawl, S’all the pleading voile of sorrowv, shall the slave in anguish call. 1 7 1

Page 172 view page image

Voicets IT’ f;ie,t/oi. Vainly to the child of Fashion, Giv ing to idcleal wvoe Graceful luxury of compassion, Shall the stricken mourner go; Hateful seems the earnest sorrow, beautiful the hollow show! Nay, my words are all too sweeping: in this crowded human mart, Feeling is not dead, but sleeping; Man’s strong will and womian’s heart, In the coming strife for Freedom, yet shall bear their generous part. And from yonder sunny valleys, Southward in the distance lost, Freedom yet shall summon allies W, orthier than the North can boast, With the Evil by their hearthstones grappling at severer cost. Now, the soul alone is willing: Faint the heart and weak the knee; And as yet no lip is thrilling With the mighty words, “

BE FREE!” Tarrieth long the land’s Good Angel, but his advent is to be!

Meanwhile, turning from t.e revel To the prison-cell my sig-t, For intenser hate of evil, For a keener sense of right, Shaking off thy dust, I thank thee, City of the Slaves, to-night! “To thy duty now and ever!

Dream no more of rest or stay; Give to Freecldo’s great endeavor All thou art and hast to day”:Thus, above the city’s murmnur, saith a Voice, or seems to say. Ye with heart and vision gifted To discern and love the right, W’hose worn faces have been lifted To the slowly-growing light, Where from Freedom’s-sunrise drifted slowly back the murk of night! 1 7 2

Page 173 view page image

LZips. Ye who through long years of trial Still have held your purpose fast, While a lengthening shade the dial From the westering sunshine cast, And of hope each hour’s denial seemed an echo of the last! O m) brothers!

0 my sisters! Would to God that ye were near, Gazing with me down the vistas Of a sorrow strange and drear; Would to God that ye were listeners to the Voice I seem to hear! WHERE FROM FREEDOM’S SUNRISE DRIFTED SLOWLY

BACK THE MURK OF NIGHT With the storm above us driving, With the false earth mined below, Who shall marvel if thus striving We have counted friend as foe; Unto one another givingin the darkness blow for blow. Well it may be that our natures Have grown sterner and more hard, And the freshness of their features I Somewhat harsh and battle-scarred, And their harmonies of feeling overtasked and rudely jarred. 1 73

Page 174 view page image

Voz’ces of F,reedioam. Be it so. It should not swerve us From a purpose true and brave; Dearer Freedoma’s rugged service Than the pastime of the slave; Better is the storm above it than the quiet of the grave. Let us then, uniting, bury All our idle feuds in dust, And to future conflicts carry Mutual faith and common trust; Always he who mnost forgiveth in his brother is most just. Through t ear. From the eternal shadowxv rounding All our sun ancl starlight here, Voices of our lost ones soundingiilig B.cl us be of heart and( cheer, the silence, down the spaces, falling on the ijnwardc Knovw wve not our dead are looking Do\vwnw\vard with a sadI surp)rise, All our strife of words rebuking \Vith their iildl and loving eyes? Shall we grieve the holy angels? Shall wve cloud their blessed skies? Let us draw their mantles o’er us \NVhich have fallen ill our way; Let us do the work before us, Cheerly, bravely, while we may, Ere the long night-silence cometh, and with us it is not day! LINES, FROM A LETTER TO A YOUNG CLERICAL FRIEND. A STRENGTH Thy service cannot tire, A faith which doubt can never dim,A heart of love, a lip of fire, O Freedom’s Gocl! be thou to him! Speak through him wnvor(ls of power andi fear, As through thy prophet )ardls of ol(d, I$n(l let a scornful people hear Once msore thy Sinai-thunders rolled. 174

Page 175 view page image

Yorktown.. For lying lips thy bl)essing seek, And hands of l)1ood are raised to Thee, And on thy children, crushed and wveak, The oppressor plants his kneeling knee. Let then, 0 God! thy servant dare Thy truth in all its power to tell, Unmask the priestly thieves, and tear The Bible from the grasp of hell! From hollowv rite and narrow span Of law and sect by Thee released, 0, teach him that the Christian man Is holier than the Jewish priest. Chase back the shadows, gray and old, Of the dead ages, fron) his way, And let his hot)eful eyes I)eholcl The daw\n of thy millennial day; That day when fettered limb and mind Shall know the truth which mniakcth free, An(l he alone \who loves his kind Shall, childlike, claim the lo\ e of Thee! YORKTOWN.?6 FROM Yorktown’s ruins, ranked and still, Two lines strietch far o’er vXale andl hill \‘ho curl-)S his steed at head of o(ne? Hairk! the lo\v miurlmur: \ashington! \‘ho l)en(ls his keen, a l)l)rovin, glanice Where (lo\ n the gorgeous lilne of France Shine knightly, star and plume of snlow? Thlou too atrt victor, Rochaimbeau The earth which bears this calm array Shook \ With the wxar-chat-rge yester-(lay, Ploughe(l dceel) with lurry-ing, hoof an(l wheel Shot-sown an(l l)la(ledl thick \with steel Octoher’s clear and noonlday sun Paled in the l)reath-smoke of the gun, And down night’s double l)lacklness fell, Like a drol)l)e(l star, the blazing shell. 1 7 5

Page 176 view page image

Voices of Fr-ecdom. Nowv all is hushecld: the gleaming lines Stand moveless Ias the neighboring I)ines; WVhile through them, sullen, griln, and slo\, The conquered hosts of England go: O’Hara’s bro\v belies his dress, Gay Tarleton’s troop rides bannerless: Shout, fromn thy fire(l and wasted homes, Thy scourge, Virginia, captive comies! Nor thou alone: with one glad voice Let all thy sister States rejoice; Let Freedom, in wAhatever clime She waits w ith sleel)less eye her time, Shouting fromll cav e and mountain wood Mlake glad her desert solitude, \Vhile they who hunt her quail with fear; The New \World’s chain lies broken here! But who are they, who, cowering, wait \Nithin the shattered fortress gate? Daik tillers of Virginia’s soil, Classed with the battle’s common spoil, \N’ith household stuffs, and fo\l, and swine, \With Indian weed and planters’

wine, \Vith stolen beeves, and foraged corn,Are they not men, Virginian born? 0, veil your faces, young and brave! Sleep, Scammel, in thy soldier grave! Sons of the Northlandl, ye who set Stout hearts against the bayonet, And pressed with steady footfall near The moated battery’s blazing tier, Turn your scarred faces fromn the sight, Let shame do homage to the right! Lo! threescore years have passed; and where The Gallic timbrel stirred the air, \Vith Northern d(rumi-roll, and the clear, Wildcl horn-blow of the miountaineer, \VNhile lBritaini grounded on that plain The arms she might not lift again, As abl)ject as in thaet old dlay The slave still toils his life away. 0, fields still green and fresh in story, Old days of pride, old names of glory, 176

Page 177 view page image

Lines. Old marvnels of the tongue and pen, Old thoughts x-lhich stirred the hearts of men, Ye s)areal the -rong; and over all Behol-l the av enging shiado\v fall! Your world-\ide honor stained with shame,Your freedom’s self a hollow name! \Where’s nowv the flag of that old war Where flowrs its stripe? Where burns its star? Bear witness, Palo Alto’s d(lay, Dark Vale of Palms, red Monterey, \Where MIexic Freedom, young and weak, Fleshes the Northern eagle’s beak; Symbol of terror and despair, Of chains and slaves, go seek it there! Laugh, Prussia, midst thy iron ranks! Laugh, Russia, from thy Neva’s banks! Brav e sport to see the fledgling born Of Freedlorn by its parent torn! Safe now is Speilberg’s dungeon cell, Safe drear Siberia’s frozen hell: \ ith Slavery’s flag o’er both unrolled, What of the New World fears the Old? LINES, WRITFEN IN THE BOOK OF A FRIEND. ON page of thine I cannot trace The cold and heartless commonplace,A statue’s fixed and marble grace. For ever as these lines I penned, Still with the thought of thee will blend That of some loved and common friend, W\ho in life’s desert track has made His pilgrim tent with mine, or strayed Beneath the same remembered shade. And hence my pen unfettered moves In freedomIn which the heart approves,The negligence which friendship loves. And wAilt thou prize my poor gift less For simple air and rustic dress, And sign of haste and carelessness? I 7 7

Page 178 view page image

Voices of Free(ioni. 0, more than specious counterfeit Of sentimlent or stu(lie(d \-it, A hleart like thine shoul(l value it. Yet half I fear miy gift \ill be Unto th-book, if not to thee, Of more than doubtful courtesy. A banished namre from fashion’s sphere, A lay unheard of Beauty s ear, For-bidcl, dliso\nedcl, xhat C(o they here? Upon my ear not all in vain Came the sad captive’s clanking chain,The groaning from his bed( of pain. And sadder still, I saw the woe \Vhich only \-ounded spirits knowv \Vhen Pri(le’s strong footsteps o’er them go. Sl)urned not alone in -alks abroad, But froin the “templ)les of the Lord” Thrust out aplart, like things abhorred. D ep as I felt, and stern and strong, In \ordis -hich Prudence smothered long, IMy soul sl)oke out against the \-rong; Not mine alone the task to speak Of comfort to the poor and veak, Andcl dry the tear on Sorrowv’s cheek; But, ming,ledl in the conflict warm, To )our the fiery breath of storm Thioug,ll the ha-shl trumpet of Reform; To brave Opinion’s settled frown, Fromi erminiecl rol)e iand sltintly go\wn, \
bile \-restling reverence(I Error (ldovn. Founts guslhed( l)esi(le miv p)ilgrim way, Cool slha(lo\-s on the greens\ard lay, FlO\ers s\unig uponll the bending sl)ray-. And, b)roal an(l biight, on either hanld, Stretchedcl the green slopes of Fairy-land, \‘ith Ho0)e’s eternal sunbow spanned; 1 78

Page 179 view page image

Lines. Whence voices called me like the flow, Which on the listener’s ear will grow, Of forest streamlets soft and low. And gentle eyes, which still retain Their picture on the heart and brain, Smiled, beckoning from that path of pain. In vain! nor dream, nor rest, nor pause Remain for him who round him draws The battered mail of Freedom’s cause. VOICES CALLESD ME

LIKE 1 HE FLOW, WHICH ON TIHR LISTENER’S EAR WVILL GROW, OF FOREST

STREAMLEIS SOFT ASND LOW. From youthful hopes, from each green spot Of young Romance, and gentle Thought, Where storm and tumult enter not, From each fair altar, where belong The offerings Love requires of Song In homage to her 0right-eyed throng, With soul and strength, with heart and hand, I turned to Freedom’s struogling band,To the sad Helots of our land, .I79

Page 180 view page image

Voices of FToeeldom. \What marvel then that Fame should( turn Her notes of praise to those of scorn,  Her gifts reclaimedl,-her smiles wx ithdlra\v n? \N’hat matters it!-a fe\v years morc, Life’s surg,e so restless heretofore Shall break Ul)OIn the unknown shore! In that far land shall dlisal)l)ear fhe shadows which \e followxv here,The mist-wreaths of our atmosphere! Before no work of mortal hand, Of human x\ill or strength expand The pearl gates of the Better Land; Alone in that great love which gave Life to the sleel)er of the grave, lResteth the power-to ” seek and save.” Yet, if the spirit gazing through The vista of the past can view One (deed to Heaven and virtue true, If through the whreck of wasted l)owers, Of garlands wreathed( from Folly’s bowers, Of idle aims and misspent hours, The eye can note one sacred spot By Pride and Self profaned not,A green place in the waste of thought, \Vhere deed or \ordl hath rendered less The sum of human wretchedness,” And Gratitude looks forth to bless, The simple burst of tenderest feeling From sad hearts worn by evil-dealing, For bl)essing on the hand of healing, Better than Glory’s pomp wxvill be That green and blessed spot to me, A palm -shade in Eternity! Something of Time which mav invite The p)urifie(l and spiritual sight To rest on with a calnm (lelight. I -So

Page 181 view page image

Li’les. AnId w-hen the summer winds shall sweep Wnith their light \wings nlay place of sleep, And mosses I-oun(l nt\ hea(lst(oIIe creel), If still, as Freeldon’s rallying sign, Upon the young heart’s altars shine l he v-ery nres they caught firom miine, If fiords my lips once utte-re(l still, In the calm faith and steadfast \vill Of other hear-ts, their \
ork fulfil, Perchance w\ith joy the soul may learn These tokens, and its ece cdiscet-n The fires \hichl on those altars burn, A mcar-ellous joy that e-\en then, The spirit hath its life again, In the strong hlearts of mortal men. Take, la(dy-, then, the gift I bring, No gay and( graceful offering, No flo\wer-smile of the laughing sl)ring. ilidst the green buds of Youth’s fresh Mlay, \Nith Fancy’s leaf-enwoven bay, IMy sad and sombre gift I lay. And if it deepens in thy mind A sense of suffering human-kindl,The outcast and the spirit-blinl: Oppressed and spoiled on every side, B-y P’rejudlice, and Scorn, and Pride, Life’s common courtesies denied; Sadc mothers mourning o’er their trust, Children b) wanat and misery nursed, Tasting life’s bitter cup at first; If to their strong appeals which come From fireless hearthl, and crowded room, And the close alley’s noisome gloom, Thoughl (lark the hands upraised to thee In Illtlte )eseeching agony, Thou len(I’st thy \-oman’s sympathy, I8I

Page 182 view page image

Vmaoics Oj’ Fb’-cc(/on/. Not v\ainly on thy gentle shrine, WVhlere Love, and Mirth, and Frieicndshil) t\vine Their varied gifts, I offer mine. THE

CURSE OF THE CHARTER-BREAKERS.3’ IN \NVestminister’s royal halls, Robed in their ponitificals England’s iiancient l)relates stood For the l)eol)le’s -ight and good. Close(l arouicnd the \aiting crowvd, Darik an(I still, like \winter’s cloud; Kiog, an( couIncil, lo-rdl anIcl knighlt, Squire and yeoimani, stood in sight, Stood(I to hear the pl)riest rehearse, In (odI’s ilamie, the Chiurch’s curse, By the tal)ers rounlcl themi lit, Slo\vly, sternly utter-ing it Righit of voice in framing la\vs, Right of l)eers to try each cause; Peasant lIomestea.l, imiean’iiid smnall, Sacred as the monai-ch’s hall, ” Vhoso la\s his hanid on these, Engt,la(l’s aiicicnt liI)erliies, \NVh()so l)reaks, 1)v xvord( or (leeld, Eng(la-(d’s \vo\ at Runolymielee, ” Be he Prince or l)elted( knlighit, \VIhatsoe’er his ranal o)r mnight, If tle liighiest, tihei thie vorst, Let hlim live and dlie accursed. Thou, wvho to thy Chlurch hast given Ke-s alil-e, of hell anI( heaven, Ilalke Our vor d( a(nd \itiness sure, Let the curse \we sl)eak ecndure!” Silent, wlhile that curse wvas saild, Ever bar-e ai(l listeninig hea(l Bo\ve(l ill reei-enit a\e, an(l then All thi l)eol)le said, Aneni! 182

Page 183 view page image

The Curse af (lie Cltarter-Breakers. Seven times the bells have tolled, For the centuries gray and old, Since that stoled and mitred band Cursed the tyrants of their land. Since the priesthood, like a tower, Stood between the poor and power; And the wronged and trodden down Blessed the abbot’s shaven crown. Gone, thank God, their wizard smell, Lost, their keys of heaven and hell; Yet I sigh for men as bold As those bearded priests of old. Now, too oft the priesthood wait At the threshold of the state,\Vaiting for the beck and nod Of its power as law and God. Fraud exults, while solemn words Sanctify his stolen hoards; Slavery laughs, while ghostly lips Bless his manacles and whips. Not on them the poor rely, Not to them looks liberty, \Who with fawning falsehood cower To the wrong, when clothed with power. 0, to see them meanly cling, Round the master, round the king, Sported with, and sold and bought,Pitifuller sight is not! Tell me not that this must be: God’s true priest is always free; Free, the needed truth to speak, Right the wronged, and raise the weak.

Not to fawn on wealth and state, Leaving Lazarus at the gate, Not to peddle creed(s like wxvares,Not to mutter hireling prayers, 183

Page 184 view page image

Vastcs of Fryled/(o//l. Nor to paint the nesv life’s bliss On the sable gr;ound of this,Goldlen streets for idle kina-e, Sabbath rest for wveary slave! Not for wvords and \works like these, Priest of Godl, thy mission is; But to make earth’s desert glad, In its Eden greenness clacl; And to level manhood bring Lord and peasant, serf and king; And the Christ of God to find In the humblest of thy kind! Thine to wvork as -,ell as pray, Clearing tho-rny w\rongs away; Plucking up the w\eeds of sin, Letting heaven’s waarmin sunshine in, Watching on the hills of Faith; Listening what the spirit saith, Of the (limi-seen light afar, Gro\sing like a nearing star. God’s interpreter art thou, To the \aiting ones below; ‘Twixt them aind its light midway Heralding the better day, Catching gleams of temple spires, Hearing notes of angel choirs, Where, as yet unseen of themn, Comes the New Jerusalem! Like the seer of Patmos gazing, On the glory down\ward blazing; Till uponI Earth’s grateful sod Rests the City of our God! THE SLAVES OF MARTINIQUE. SUGGESTED BY A DAGUERREOTYPE

FROM A FRENCH ENGRAVING. 3BEA3IS of noon, like burning lances, thlroughl the tree-tol)s flash and glisten, As she stands before her lover, with raised face to look and listen. IS4

Page 185 view page image

TI’ t, S/z7,es of J( artI/fl /u. I)ark, but coinel,’, like the mai(len in the ancient Jewish songi Scarcel\ has the teil of task-fiel(s dlone hei-graceful b)eauty \v rong. Hfe, the sti-ong ( ()Oe an(l the imanl\, wvith the \vassal’s garl) and II t e, Itoi(ling still his sl)irit’s )irthriight, to his higher nature true lli(linlg deel) the sti-engthening l purl)()ose of a freeman in his heart, \s the greegree holdls his Fetich fromn the white man’s gaze al)art. E\er foireln(,st of his comrades, \vhen the driver’s morning horn Calls aL\a\ to stifling,- iiill-house, to the fields of cane.l(1 cornII Fall the keen and(l b)urning lashes ne-er on hii back or liml) ,Sca-rce \vith look or \ord of censure, turns the (1river unto him. 'et, his )rox\ is alway\s thoughtful, and his ey e is hard(l and stern; Sla-er\ s last and humblest lesson he has never dleigned to learn. And, at ev\ening, \ hen his comrades (lance l)efore their master’s (l)ol-r, Folding arms and knitting forehea(l, stan(ds he silent evermore.

(;(tl l)e 1)raised for e-erv- instinct \which rebels against a lot \ here the hrute sur\ ives the humana, and man’s upright form is not’ As the serpent-like bejuico winds his spiral fold on fold R)ound the tall and stately-ceiba, till it wvithers in his hold; Sio\ (lecay-s the forest monarch, closer gircls the fell eml)race, Till the tree is seen no longer, and the vine is in its place, So a hase and bestial nature round the vassal’s manhood twines, AndI the spirit \vastes beneath it, like the ceilba choked vith 'ines. Go(l is Lo-e, saith the Evangel; and our world of woe and sin Is mad’e light and happ\ only \hen a Love is shining in.

'e wvlose lives are free as sunshine, finding, wheresoe’er ye roaIm, Smiles of welcome, looks of kindness, making all the world like home; IS5

Page 186 view page image

[“viccs of FJrctlolli. In the veins of w\hose affections kindred l)lood is b)ut a p)art, Of one kindlyl current throl)l)ing front the universal heart Cain ve kno- the deeper nmeiming of a love in Silavery nursed, Last flo\er of a lost Eden, l)looiing in that Soil accursed? Love of Home, and Love of \oman d!-ear to all, b)ut doubly dlear To the heart whose pulses else\n here measure only hate and fear. All around the desert circles, und(lerneath a l)razen sky, Only-one green sp)ot remaining vwhere the ldev is never dry! Froml the horror of that (lesert, from its itmnosl)lphere of hell, Turns the faintin, spirit thither, as the dliver seeks his l)ell. ‘T is the fer\vid( tropic noontime; faint and lowv the sea-\vaves beat; Hazv rise the inlandcl mountains through the glimmer of the heat, \Nhere. through mingled leaves and blossoms, a-rr-owy sunbeams flash and glisten, Speaks her lover to the slave-girl, and she lifts her head to listen: “\Ve shall live as sla-es 1no longer! Freeldom’s hour is close at handl! Rocks her bark upon the wvaters, rests the boat upl)on the strand! I havxe seen the Ha-tien Captain; I have seen his swvarthy cre\v, Ilaters of the pallid faces, to their race and color true. The-have s-orn to wait our coming till the night has passed its noon. And the gray and darkening cwaters roll above the sunken moon!” O the blessed hope of freedom! howv with joy and glad sur I)rise, For an instant throbs her l)osomi, for an instant b)eam her eyes lult she looks Iacross the 'alley, cohere her mothler’s hut is seen, ‘I’ihroughi the snowy bloom of coffee, and the lemon-leaves so green. iS6

Page 187 view page image

Tle Slaves of M.iiI/r/iz’lC. 187 And she answ\ers, sad and earniest:’ It were \ rIong for thee to sta-~ G(od hath heard thy p)rayer for freedom, and his finger points the \ vay. “\ell I lknow with what endurance, for the sake of me and II]inle, Thou hast borne too long a burden never meant for souls like thinie. “(1o; and at the hour of midnight, w\hen our laist faLCe\ell is e or, Kncelingl, on our )plac e of l)arting, I \vill hless thee fromn the shore. I;ut for me, my mother, lying on her sick-be(l all the (lay, Lifts her \weary head to watch me, coming through the twilight gra y. Should I lea\ e her sick and helpless, even free(lom, shared with thee, \VN’oul( lbe sad(ler far than bondage, lonely toil, and stripes to mI e. For mn heart would die within me, and my brain would soon he wildl I shoul(l hear-my mother calling through the twilight for her child!”

-)l)zinig ulpward from the ocean, shines the sun of morniing(-timie, Throu,-h the coffee-trees in blossom, and green hedges of the limne. Si(le by side. amidst the slav-e-gang, toil the lover and the maid \‘herefore looks he o’er the waters, leaning forward on his spI)alc? Sa(lly looks he, (leeply sighs he:‘t is the HIvytien’s sail he sees, Like a w\ hite cloud of the mountains, driven seaward l)y the breeze! But his arm a light hand presses, and he hears a low voice call Tite o()f Slavery-, hot)e of Freedom, Love is mightier-than all.

Page 188 view page image

ISs THI CRISIS. \W-RIT TEN ON LEARNING( T1HE TERM1S OF IHZ, lEAI’\ I’I’H

MA XIC(). ACROSS the Stony) Mountains, o’er the d(lesert’s (drouth and sand The circles of our empire touch the \Vestei-n Ocean’s straid; From slumberous Timpanogos, to Gila, \vild andc free, Flo\ving donii from Nuevo-Leon to California’s sea; And from the mountains of the East, to Santa Rosa’s shore, The eagles of MIexitli shall heat the air no more. O

Vale of Rio Bravo! Let thy simpl)le children \eep; Close watch about their holy fire let maids of Pecos keel); Let Taos send her cry across Sierra Madrl-e’s pines, And Algodones toll her bells amiidst her corn and vines; For lo! the pale land-seekers come, with eager eyes of gain, \Vidle scattering, like the bison herds on l)road Salada’s pl)ain. Let Sacr-amento’s herclsmen heed what sound the winds bring do\vnIl of footsteps on the crisping snow, from cold Ne\vara’s crown Full hot and fast the Saxon rides, with rein of travel slack, And, bending o’er his saddle, leaves the sunrise at his back; IBy many a lonely river, and gorge of fir and pine, ()n many a \-intry hill-topl, his nightly camp-fires shine. O country-meni and brothers! that land of lake and plain, O)f salt wastes alternating w\ith valleys fat with grain Of mountains white with \vinter, looking ldo\wn\ard, cold, serene, On their feet \ith spring-vines tangled and lapped ii softest green; S\vift through w\hose black volcanic gates, o’er many a sunny -ale, \Vin(l-like the Aral)ahoe s--eel)s the b)ison’s (lusty trail (‘reat sp)aces yet untravellecl, great lakes u\hose mystic sho)res The Saxon rifle nev-er heardl, nror clip of Saxon oars; (;reat herds that cvandler all unwatchled, \mild steed(s that none ha-e tamed, Strainge fish in utnkino\vn streis, aind bir(ls the Saxonii ne er namned;( ])eel) minies, (‘darik mo)utain crucihles, where Nature’s chemic )o\ ers 'ork out the (;reat l)esi,gncr’s \ill; -all these ye say are ours! (f

Page 189 view page image

-~~~~fi 8 Fore-er- ours! for good or ill, on us the bur(len lies (od’s balance, watched by angels, is hung across the skies. Shall Justice, Truth, and Freedom turn the poised and trembling scale? Or shall the Evil triumph, and robber \Vrong prevail? Shall the broad land o’er \which our flag in starry splendor waves, } orego through us its freedclom, and bear the tread of slaves? Thle day is l)reaking in the East of which the prophets told, Andc brightens tip the sky of Time the Christian Age of Gold; Old \Iight to Righlt is yielding, battle blade to clerkly pen, Earth’s monarchs are her peoples, and her serfs stand up as men; The isles rejoice together, in a day are nations born, And the slave \valks free in Tunis, and by Stamboul’s Golden Horn! Is this. O coLntry-men of mine! a (lay for us to sor The soil of new-gained empire \vith slax-erv’s seeds of woe? To feeld with our fresh life-blood the Old XVorld’s cast-off crime, I)pot)l)ed, like some monstrous early birth, from the tired lap of ‘Lyiie?

To run ane\ the evil race the old lost nations ran, And dlie like themn of unbelief of God, and wrong of man? Great Heaven! Is this our mission?

End in this the prayers and tears, The toil. the strife, the as atchings of our younger, better years? Still as the Old \N’orld rolls in light, shall ours in shadow turn, A bcamless Chaos, cursed of God, through outer darkness borne? \Vhere the far nations looked for light, a blackness in the air? \Nhere for words of hope the-listened the long wail of despair?

Th-e Crisis presses on us; face to face with us it stands, \n-ith soleminn lips of question, like the Sphinx in Egypt’s sands! This dav -e fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we spin; ‘1’his (da, for all hereafter choose we holiness or sin; E-en now\ fromnt starry Gerizim, or Ebal’s cloudy crown, \Ve call the dews of i)lessing or the bolts of cursing down! Iy all for which the martyrs bore their agony and shame; Bsy all the warning worls of truth with which the prophets came; B)- the Future which awaits us; by all the hopes which cast TIlheir faint andI trembling beams across the blackness of the Past; Tli c Cl - i’S /,‘S. 189

Page 190 view page image

Iohics of Yrectof~. And by the blessed thought of Him who for Earth’s freedom died, o my people! O my brothers! let us choose the righteous side. So shall the Northern pioneer go joyful on his way; To whed Penobscot’s waters to San Francisco’s bay; To make the rugged places smooth, and sow the vales with grain; And bear, with Liberty and Law, the Bible in his train: The mighty West shall bless the East, and sea shall answer sea, And mountain unto mountain call, PRAISE GOD, FOR WE ARE FREE!

Igo

Page 191 view page image

MISCELLANEOUS. THE KNIGHT OF ST. JOHN. ERE do\wn yon blue Carl)athian hills The sun shall sink again, Farewvell to life and all its ills, Farewell to cell and chain. These prison shades are dark and cold, But, darker far than they, The shadow of a sorrow old Is on my heart alway. For since the day when Warkworth wood Closed o’er my steed and I, An alien fromin my name and blood, A weed cast out to die, \When, looking l)ack in sunset light, I saw her turret gleam, And from its casement, far and white, Her sign of farewell stream, Like one who, from some desert shore, Doth home’s green isles dlescry, And, vainly longing, gazes o’er The waste of wave and sky; So from the desert of my fate I gaze across the past; Forever on life’s dial-plate The shade is backward cast! I’ve wandered rvide from shore to shore, I’ve knelt at many a shrine; And bowoed me to the rocky floor \Where Bethlehem’s tapers shine; -_ I

Page 192 view page image

.z2isl-eilaneolis. And by the Holy Sepulchre I’ve pledged my knightly sword To Christ, his blessed Church, and her, The Mother of our Lord. O.

vain the vow, and vain the strife! How vain do all things seem! My soul is in the past, and life To-day is but a dream! AND FROM ITS CASEMENT, FAR

AND WHITE, HER SIGN OF FAREWELL In vain the penance strange and long, And hard for flesh to bear; The prayer, the fasting, and the thong And sackcloth shirt of hair. The eyes of memory will not sleep, Its ears are open still; And vigils with the past they keep Against my feeble will. 192

Page 193 view page image

T/le Holi, Zait(l. And still the loxes and joys of old Do evermore uprise I see the flowxv of locks of gold, The shine of loving eyes! Ah me! upon another’s breast Those golden locks recline; I see upon another rest The glance that once was mine. ” O faithless priest! 0 perjured knight!” I hear the Master cry-; “Shut out the vision from thy sight, Let Earth and Nature die. “The Church of God is now thy spouse, And thou the bridegroom art; Then let the burden of thy vow\vs Crush down thy human heart!” In vain! This heart its grief must know, Till life itself hath ceased, And falls beneath the self-same blow The lover and the priest! 0 pitying Mother! souls of light, And saints, and martyrs old! Pray for a weak and sinful knight A suffering man uphold. Then let the Pay-nim work his will, And death unbind my chain, Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill The sun shall fall again. THE HOLY LANI). FROM LAMIAR’ITINE. I HAVF, not felt, o’er seas of sand, The rocking of the desert bark; Nor laved at HIebron’s fount my hand, By Hebron’s p,almni-trees cool and dark; Nor pitchedl my tent at even-fall, On d(lust where Job of old has lain, Nor dreame(l beneath its canvas wvall, The dream of Jacob o’er again, 193

Page 194 view page image

A3liscella zeots. One vast world-p)age remains unread How shine the stars in Chaldlea’s sky, Ilow sounds the reverentt pilgrim’s tread, Ho,v beats the heart with God so nigh!How round gray arch and column lone The spirit of the old time broods, And sighs in all the winds that moan Along the sandy solitu(les! In thy tall cedars, Lebanon, I have not heard the nations’ cries, Nor seen thy eagles st()oo)ing d(own \Where buried Tyre in ruin lies. The Christian’s prayer I have not said In Tadmor’s temples of decay, Nor startledl, with my c]reary tread, The waste where Memnon’s elmpire lay. Nor have I, from thy hallowed ti(le, 0 Jordan! heard the low lamen t. Like that sad wail along thy side \V’hich Israel’s mournful prophet sent! Nor thrilled within that girotto lone Where, deep in night, the Bard of Kinlgs Felt hands of fire direct his own, Anid sweep for God the conscious strings. I have not climbed to Olivet, Nor laid me \here my Saviotir lay, And left his trace of tears as yet Bv angel eyes unwept awvay; Nor watched, at Inidnight’s solemn time, The garden w\here his prayer andI gr’oian, \Wrung by his sorrow\v and our crime, Rose to One listening ear alone. I have not kissed the rock-hewnn grot \NVhere in his Mother’s arms he lay, Nor knelt upon the sacred splot Where last his footsteps pressed the clay; Nor looked on that sad mountain head, Nor smote my sinful breast, where chitle His arms to fold the world he spread, And bowved his head to bless and died! 1104

Page 195 view page image

I lP~tjl?t’.‘95 PALESTINE. BLFST land of Judlea! thrice hallo\ved of song, Where the holiest of memiories pilgriin-like throng; In the shade of thy I)almis, by the shiores of thy sea, On the hills of thy beauty, my lheait-t is with thee. NVith the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, WVhere pilgrimn andl prop)het have lingered before; \Vith the glide of a spilit I traverse the sod Mlade bright by the steps of the angels of God.

Blue sea of the hills!-in my spirit I hear Thy \vaters, (Geniesaret, chime on my ear; \Vhere the LO\ ly andc Just with the people sat down, And thy spray on the dust of his sandals vwas thrown. bevon(d are Bethulia’s mountains of green, And the d(lesolate hills of the wild Gadarene; And I I)ause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see The gleam of thy waters, 0 dark Galilee! Hark, a sound in the valley! where, swollen and strong, Thvl riv er, 0 Kishon, is swaeel)ping along; \Hihere the Canaanite strove with Jehovah in vain. And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of the slain.

There down fromn his mountains stern Zebulon came, AnIcl Naphtali’s stag, fith his eyeballs of flame, And the chariots of Jal)in rolledcl harmlessly on, For the arm of the Lord weas Abintoam’s son! There sleep the still rocks and the caverns which rang ‘I’o the solig wRhich the beautiful prophetess sanlg, \‘hei the prii-ces of Issachar stoo(l by her side, And the shout of a host in its triumph replied. Lo. Bethlehem’s hill-site before me is seen, \Vith the mountains around, and the valleys between; There rested the shepherds of Judah, and there The sonig of the angels rose sw\eet on the air. And Bethanv’s palm-trees in beauty still throw Their shadowvs at noon on the ruins below; But where are the sisters who hastened to greet The lowly Redeemer, and sit at his feet? 195

Page 196 view page image

f iscellaneous. I tread where the TWELVE in their wayfaring trod; I stand where they stood with the CHOSEN OF GOD,  Where his blessing was heard and his lessons were taught, Where the blind were restored and the healing Kv’aS wrought. 0, here with his flock the sad Wanderer came,These hills he toiled over in grief are the same,The founts where he drank by the wayside still flow, Anrid the same airs are blowing -> which breathed on his brow!

Anrid throned on her hills sits Je rusalemn yet, But with dust on her forehead, a n d chains on her feet; For the crown of her pride to the mocker hath gone, And the holy Shechinah is dark where it shone. THEKRE

RESTED THE SHEP HERDS OF JUDAH. But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode Of Humanity clothed in the brightness of God? Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim, It could gaze, even now, on the presence of Him! Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, In love and in meekness, He moved among men; And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea In the hush of my spirit would whisper to me! And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Nor mny ears hear the dashing of Galilee’s flood, Nor my eyes see the cross which He bowed him to bear, Nor my knees press Gethsemane’s garden of prayer. i96

Page 197 view page image

F’zcki/?h’l Yet, Lov\ed of the Father, thy Spirit is near To the meek, and the lowly, and penitent here; A,nd the voice of the lo-e is the same even now As at Bethany’s tomb or on Olivet’s brofw. (), the outwarid bath gone!

-but in glory and power, ‘The SPIRIr” survi\eth the things of an hour; Unchanged, undecaying, its Pentecost flame On the heart’s secret altar is burning the same! EZEKIIlI. CHAIL”,R XXXIII. 30o 33. THEL hlear-thee not, O God! nor see; Penieath thy rod the) inock at thee The princes of ouLr ancient line Lie drunken \vwith Assyrian wine; The priests around thy altar speak The false word-s w\hich their hearers seek; And hymnis which Chlaldlea’s wSanton maids tHace sung in Dura’s idol-shades Are with the Levites’ chant ascending, WVith Zion’s holiest anthems blending! On Israel’s bleeding bosom set, The heathen heel is crushing yet; The towers upon our holy hill Echo Chaldean footsteps still. Our whasted shrines,-W\ho weeps for them? -ho mourneth for Jerusalem? \Vho tulrneth from his gains away? \Those knee with mine is bowved to I)pr-ay? \Vho, leaving feast and purpling cu)p, Takes Zion’s lamentation up? A sad and thoughtful youth, I -ent WVith Israel’s early banishment; And hi here the sullen Chebar crept, I’The ritual of my fathers kept. The \ ater for the trench I drevw, The firstling of the flock I slew, And, standing at the altar’s side, I shared the Levites’ lingering pride, That still, amidst her mocking foes, The smoke of Zion’s offering rose. In sudden vhirlwind, cloudcl acnd fiimiie, The Spirit of the Highest came! 1 9 7

Page 198 view page image

Mi’scellaneovis. Before mine eyes a visioni passed, A glory terrible and vast; W\ith dreadful eyes of living things, And sounding sweep of angel wings, \ ith circling light and sapphire throne, Andi flame-like form of One theieon, And voice of that dread Likeness sent Down from the crystal firmament! The burden of a prophet’s power Fell on me in that fearful hour; F’rom off unutterable woes The curtain of the future rose I sa\w far down the coming time The fierv chastisement of crimle \Vith noise of mingling hosts, and jar Of falling towers and shouts of Aar, I saw\ the nations rise and fall, Like fire-gleams on my tent’s white wall. In drleam and trance, I saw the slain Of Egypt heaped like harvest grain. I sa\w the walls of sea-born Tyre Sw\ept over by the spoiler’s fire: And heard the low, expiring mnoan Of Edom on his rocky throne; And, woe is me! the wild lament From Zion’s desolation sent; And felt within my heart each blow \Which laid her holy places low. In b)onds and sorrow, day by day, Before the pictured tile I lay; And there, as in a mirror, saw The coming of Assyria’s war,hter swarthy lines of spearmen pass Like locusts through Bethhoronr’s grass I saw\ them draw their storm) hen Of battle round Jerusalem; And, listening, heard the Hebrew wvail Blend w\ith the X
ictor-trump of Baal! \V’ho trembled at my warning word? Who owned the prophet of the Lord? How mocked the rude,-how scoffed the vile,How stung the LIevites’ scornful smnile, As o’er my spirit, clark and slow, The shadow crept of Israel’s woe igs

Page 199 view page image

199 As if the angel’s mournful roll Had left its record on my soul, And traced in lines of darkness there The picture of its great despair! Yet ever at the hour I feel MTy lips in prophecy unseal. Prince, priest, and Levite gather near, And( Salem’s daughters haste to hear, On Chebar’s waste and alien shore, The harp of Judah swept once more They listen, as in Babel’s throng T’he Chaldeans to the dancer’s song, Or wild sabbeka’s nightly play, As careless and as vain as they. And thus, O Prophet-bard of old, Hast thou thy tale of sorrow told! The same which earth’s unwvelcome seers Have felt in all succeeding years. Sport of the changeful multitude, Nor calmly heard nor understood, Their song has seemed a trick of art, ”heir warnings but the actor’s part. \Vith bonds, and scorn, and evil will, T’ile world requites its prophets still. So was it \hen the Holy One The garments of the flesh put on! Men followed where the Highest led For ccmmon gifts of daily bread, And gross of ear, of vision dim, Owned not the godlike power of him. 'ain as a dreamer’s words to them His wvail above Jerusalem, And meaningless the watch he kept Through which his weak disciples slept. Yet shrink not thou, whoe’er thou art, For God’s great purpose set apart, Before whose far-dcliscerning eyes, The Future as the Present lies! Beyond a narrow-bounded age Stretches thy prophet-heritage, Through Heaven’s dim spaces angel-trod, Through arches round the throne of God! Thy audlience, worlds! all Time to be !‘lie nitness of the Truth in thee Ez,-ki”ll.

Page 200 view page image

200 YfisccIlancus. THE \VIFE OF MANOAH TO HER HUSBAND. AGAINST the sunset’s glowving wall The city towers rise black and tall, Where Zorah, on its rocky height, Stands like an armed man in the light. Dowvn Eshtaol’s vales of ripened grain Falls like a cloud the night amain, And up the hillsides climbing slow The barley reapers homeward go. Look, dearest! how our fair child’s head The sunset light hath hallowed, Where at this olive’s foot he lies, Uplooking to the tranquil skies. 0, while beneath the fervent heat Thy sickle swept the bearded wheat, I’ve watched, with mingled joy and dread, Our child upon his grassy bed. Joy, which the mother feels alone Whose morning hope like mine had flown, \Vhen to her bosom, over-blessed, A dearer life than hers is pressed. Dread, for the future dark and still, WVhich shapes our dear one to its will; Forever in his large calm eyes, I read a tale of sacrifice. The same foreboding awe I felt \ Vhen at the altar’s side we knelt, And he, who as a pilgrim came, Rose, winged and glorious, through the flame. I slept not, though the wild bees made A dreamlike murmuring in the shade, And on me the wvarm-fingered hours Pressed with the drowsy smell of flowers. Before me, in a vision, rose The host of Israel’s scornful foes,Rank over rank, helm, shield, and spear, Glittered in noon’s hot atmosphere. Miscellaneous. 200

Page 201 view page image

The Wife of fanoah to Her Hfusband. 20I I heard their boast, and bitter word, Their mockery of the Hebrew’s Lord, I saw their hands his ark assail, Their feet profane his holy veil, No angel down the blue space spoke, No thunder from the still sky broke; But in their midst, in power and awe, Like God’s waked wrath, OUR CHILD I saw! I’vE; WATCHED, WITH

MINGLED JOY AND DREAD, OUR CHILD UPON HIS GRASSY BED. A child no more!

harsh-browed and strong, He towered a giant in the throng, And down his shoulders, broad and bare, Swept the black terror of his hair. He raised his arm; he smote amain; As round the reaper falls the grain,’ So the dark host around him fell, So sank the foes of Israel! Again I looked. In sunlight shone The towers and domes of Askelon. Priest, warrior, slave, a mighty crowd, Within her idol temple bowed,

Page 202 view page image

M iscellaneous. Yet one knelt not; stark, gaunt, and b)linld, His arms the massive pillars tvine(l,An eyeless cap)tive, strong with hate, He stood there like an evil Fate. The red shrines smoked(. the truml)ets )pealed: He stooped,(l the giant columnls reele(l, Reeled tower and fane, sank arch and wall, And the thick (lust-cloud closed o’er cll! Above the shriek, the crash, the groaiv Of the fallen pride of Askelon, I heard, sheer down the echoing sky, A voice as of an angel cry, The voice of himi, who at our side Sat through the golden eventide,  Of him who, on thy altar’s blaze, Rlose fire-winged, with his song of p)ratise. ” Rejoice o’er Israel’s broken chain, (ray mother of the mighty slain! “Rejoice!” it cried, ” he vanquisheth! The strong in life is strong in death! To him shall Zorah’s daughters raise Through colinig y),ears their hymns of p)raise, And gray old men at evening tell Of all he wrought for Israel. “And( they who sing and they who hear Alike shall hold thy memory dear, And pour their blessings on thy head, 0 mother of the mighty dlead!” It ceased; and though a sound I heard As if great wvings the still air stirred, I only sawv the l)arley sheaves And hills half hid by olive leaves. I bowed my face, in awe and fear, On the dear child who slumbered near. ” Vith me, as with my only son, O God,” I said, ” TI-IY WILL BE DONE!” 202

Page 203 view page image

The C/Mt/cs of ltle Pl,,qI. THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN. ” GET -e ul) from the Wrath of God(‘s terrible dlay! Ungirdclled, unsandalled, arise and away!

‘T is the -intage of blood,‘t is the fulness of time, A,n(l vengeance shall gather the harvest of crime!” ThIe varning wvas sl)oken; the righteous had gone, \nd the l)roud ones of Sodom wvere feasting alone; All gay \-as the banquet; the revel \as long, \V-ith the pouring of wine and the breathing of song. “F was an eveninig of beaut)’; the air wvas i)erfume, TIhe earth was all greenness, the trees were all blooin; \ndl softly the (lelicate -iol was heard, Like the miurlmulr of lov-e or the notes of a b)irld. And l)eautiful mid(lenis moved dowvn in the (lance, With thel magic of motion and sunshine of glance; An(d vhite arms wreathe(l lig,htly. and tresses fell free As the plumat,ge of birds in some trol)ical tree. \Vhere the shrinies of foul idols were lightedc on high, Aind w vantoinness temt1)ted the lust of the eye; Iidlst rites of obsceiieness, strange, loathsomne, al)horre(l, The blasl)hemer scoffed at the name of the Lor(l. Iltarl! the gro\wl of the thlunder,-the quaking, of earth! \VNoe, oe to the \orshil), an(til noe to the mirth! The l)laclk sk-has op)enedl, there’s flame in the air,Thel red armI of veingeance is lifted an(I bt re! 1hle n the shriek of the (li:)g rose vild vhere the soIn,g \llcl the lowv tone of love ha(l I)een wvhispered along; I,or the fierce flames vent lightly o’er palace an(l bowvcr, I ilke the re(l tongues of (lemons, to blast and (lev our! Do\vn, clo-n on the fallen the red( ruin rained, IAnd the reveller sanik w itlh his \vine-cul) utndrained; Fhe foot of the (lancer, the mIusic’s loved thrill, An(d the shout andI the laughlter grew\ suclddlenly still. Ilec last throl) of anguislh vas fearfully given; The last c-e (glarc(l forth in its madness on Heaven! The last groan of horror rose wvild(ly and vain, ,.nd death brooded over the p)ridle of the Plain! ‘IC3

Page 204 view page image

AND BEAUTIFUL MAIDENS MOVED DOWN IN THE DANCE.

Page 205 view page image

Th/e Crilczfxion. THE CRUCIFIXION. SU,-\LIGHT upon Judaea’s hills! And on the waves of Galilee,On Jordan’s stream, and on the rills That feed the dead and sleeping sea! Mlost freshly from the green wvood springs The light breeze on its scented wvings; And gayly quiver in the sun The cedar tops of Lebanon! A fe\v more hlours, a change hath come! The skv is dark without a cloud! The shouts of wrath and joy are dumb, And proud knees unto earth are bowecld. A change is on the hill of Death, The helmed wnatchers pant for breath, And turn with wild and maniac eyes From the dark scene of sacrifice! That Sacrifice!-the death of Iinim, The High and ever Holy One! \Vell may the conscious Heaven grow dim, And blacken the beholding Sun. The wonted light hath fled away, Night settles on the middle day, Andl earthquake from his caverned bed( Is wvaking with a thrill of dread The dead are waking underneath! Their prison door is rent away! And, ghastly with the seal of death, They wander in the eye of dlay The temple of the Cherubim, The House of God is cold and dim A curse is on its trembling walls, Its mighty veil asunder falls! WVell may the cavern-depths of Earth ILe shaken, and her mountains nod; \Vell may the sheeted dead come forth To gaze upon a suffering God! \Vell may the temple-shrine grow dim, And shadows veil the Cherubim, \Vhen He, the chosen one of Heaven, A sacrifice for guilt is given! 205

Page 206 view page image

206 And shall the sinful heart, alone, Behold unmoved the atoning Ihour, When Nature trembles on her throne, And Death resigns his iron power? 0, shall the heart-whose sinfulness Gave keenness to his sore distress, And added to his tears of bloo(l  Refuse its trembling gratitude! THE STAR OF

BETHLEHEM. WHERE Time the measutre of his hours By changeful bud and blossom keeps, And, like a young bride crowned with flowers, Fair Shiraz in her garden sleeps; WVhere, to her poet’s turban stone, The Spring her gift of flowers imparts, Less sweet than those his thoughts ha-e sown In the warm soil of Persian hearts: There sat the stranger, where the shade Of scattered date-trees thinly lay, WAVhile in the hot clear heaven delayed The long and still and weary day. Strange trees and fruits abovxe him hung, Strange odors filled the sultry air, Strange birds upon the branches swung, Strange insect v oices murmured there. And strange bright blossoms shone arotln(l, Turned sunward from the shadowy bowers. As if the Gheber’s soul had found A fitting home in Iran’s flowers. Whate’er he saw, whate’er he heard, Awakened feelings new and sad,No Christian garb, nor Christian word, Nor church with Sabbath-bell chimes glad, Blut \Toslem graves, with turban stones, AndI mosque-spires gleaming white, in view, A\tnd gralybeard Mlollal-hs in lowv tones Chanting, their Koran service tl-hrough. M i’scel/aiieoli-s.

Page 207 view page image

Tlie S/ar 0o f’//ct,lo/2. The flowers whvich smiled on either han(l, Like teml)ting fiends, wvere such as they WVhich once, o’er all that Eastern land, As gifts on dlemon altars lay. As if the burning eyNe of Baal Thie servant of his Conqueror knew, From skies which knewv no cloudy veil, The Sun’s hot glances smote him throu,(h. Ah me!” the lonely stranger said, “The hope which led my footsteps on, And light from heaven around them she(ld, O’er wxeary wave and w\vaste, is gone! “X'here are the harvest fields all white, For Truth to thrust her sickle in? \Vhere flock the souls, like doves in flight, Frolni the dark hidilig-pl)lace of sin? “A silent horror broods o’er all, The burden of a hateful spl)ell, The very flowers around recall The hoary mag,i’s rites of hell! ” And what am I, o’er such a land(l The banner of the Cross to bear? Dear Lord, uphold me with thy hand, Thy strength w ith human Nweakness share!” He ceased; for at his vern feet Ini mild rebuke a floweret smile(l, How thrilled his sinking heart to greet The Star-flower of the Virgin’s chil(I! Sown by some \andering Frank, it (Irew Its life fromn alien air and earth, And told to Pa\ nim stiun and dew The story of the Saiylour’s birth. From scorching beamns, in kin(lly moo(ld, The Persian I)lants its beauty screened, And on its )ag,an sisterhood, In love, the Christian flow\eret leaned. 207

Page 208 view page image

208 IIJAcc//aneou. WNith tears of joy the wanderer felt The darkness of his long despair Before that hallowed symbol melt, Which God’s dear love had nurtured there. From Nature’s face, that simple flower The lines of sin and sadness swept; And Magian pile and Paynim bower In peace like that of Eden slept. Each Moslem tomb, and cypress old, Looked holy through the sunset air; Alnd, angel-like, the Muezzin told From tower and mosque the hour of prayer. With cheerful steps, the morrow’s dawn From Shiraz saw the stranger part; The Star-flower of the Virgin-Born Still bloomning in his hopeful heart! HYMNS. FROM THE FRENCIHI OF LAMARTINE. ONE hymn more, 0 my lyre! Praise to the God above, Of joy and life and love, Sweeping its strings of fire! 0, who the speed of bird and wind And sunbeam’s glance will lend to me, That, soaring upward, I may find My resting-place and home in Thee?Thou, whom my soul, midst doubt and gloom, Adoreth with a fervent flame,lMysterious spirit! unto whom Pertain nor sign nor name!

Swiftly my lyre’s soft murmurs go, Up from the cold and joyless earth, Back to the God who bade them flo\, Whose moving spirit sent them forth, But as for me, 0 God! for me, The lovwly creature of thy will, Lingering and sad, I sigh to thee, An earth-bound pilgrim still! 208 Miscellaneous.

Page 209 view page image

IIyinns. 209 \Vas not my spirit born to shine Where yonder stars and suns are glowing? To breathe with them the light divine From God’s own holy altar flowing? To be, indeed, whate’er the soul In dreams had thirsted for so long,A portion of Heaven’s glorious whole Of loveliness and song? 0, watchers of the stars at night, \ ho breathe their fire, as we the air,Suns, thunders, stars, and rays of light, 0, say, is He, the Eternal, there? Bendl there around his awful throne The seraph’s glance, the angel’s knee? Or are thy inmost depths his own, O wild and mighty sea?

Thoughts of my soul, how swift ye go Swift as the eagle’s glance of fire, Or arrows from the archer’s bonw, To the far aim of y),our desire! Thought after thought, ye thronging rise, Like spring-doves from the startled woold, B]3earing like them your sacrifice Of music unto God! And shall these thoughts of joy and love Come back again no more to me?Returning like the Patriarch’s dove WVing-weary from the eternal sea, To bear within my longing arms The promise-bough of kindlier skies, Plucked from the green, immortal palms nVhich shadow Paradise? All moviig spirit!-freely forth At thy command the strong wind goes: Its errand to the passive earth, Nor art can stay, nor strength oppose, Until it folds its weary wing Once more within the hand divine; So, weary from its wandering, My spirit turns to thine -ffym ns. 209

Page 210 view page image

1o fAccWncot,. Child of the sea, the mountain stream, From its dark caverns, hurries on, Ceaseless, by night and morning’s beam, By evening’s star and noontide’s sun, Until at last it sinks to rest, O’erwearied, in the waiting sea, And moans upon its mother’s breast, So turns my soul to Thee! o Thou who bidd’st the torrent flow, Who lendest wings unto the wind,Mover of all things! where art thou? A 0, whither shall I go to find The secret of thy resting-place? Is there no holy wing for me, That, soaring, I may search the space Of highest heaven for Thee? 0, WOULD I WERE AS FREE TO RISE AS LEAVES ON AUrUMNRS WHIRLI.WIND BORNE. 0, would I were as free to rise As leaves on autumn’s whirlwind borne, The arrowy light of sunset skies, Or sound, or ray, or star of morn, Which melts in heaven at twilight’s close, Or aught which soars unchecked and free Through Earth and Heaven; that I might lose Myself in finding Thee! WHEN
the BREATH DIVINE is flowing, Zephyr-like o’er all things going, And, as the touch of viewless fingers, Softly on my soul it lingers, Open to a breath the lightest, Conscious of a touch the slightest,As some calmn, still lake, whereon Sinks the snowy-bosomed swan, And the glistening water-rings Circle round her moving wings: When my upward gaze is turning Where the stars of heaven are burning .Ali’scellaneoills. 210 4 * “I ‘W, 4

Page 211 view page image

Jj)‘nll$s. Thlrough the deep) and dark al)s, Flo\ ers of midnighlt’s w\ilderness, 13Blo\ing \ithl the ex ening’s’)reath Swaeetly in their Maker’s path: W\hen the breakiing day is flushing All the east, and light is gushing UI)p\ard through the holrizon’s haze, Sheaf-like, wvith its thousand irays, SI)readling, until all abode Overflo\ws \ith joy and lo\ve, And belo\, on earth’s green bosom, All is changed to light an(l blossonii WVhen my waking fancies over Forms of brightness flit and hover, Holy as the serapl)hs are, WNho by Zion’s fountains wear On their foreheads, white and broad, ” IHIOLINESS UNro 1H E LORD!” W,hen, ilnsl)ir-e(l with ral)tulre high, It wAould seeim a single sigh Could a worl(l of love create,That my life could know no date, And my eager thoughts could fill Hleaven and Earth, o’erflowing still! Then, O Father!

thou alone, From the sha(lonw of th) throne, To the sighing, of my breast And its rapture answerest. Ali my thoughts, whiclh, upward winging, Bathe where thy own light is springing,All my yearnings to be free Are as echoes answvering thee Seldom upon lips of mine, 1 ather! rests that name of thine, Deep within my inmost breast, In the secret place of mind, Like an awful presence shriined, Doth the dread idea. rest! Hushed and holy dwells it there,Prompter of the silent prayer, Lifting up my spirit’s eye And its faint, but earnest cry, From its dark and cold abode, Unto thee, my Guide and God! 2 1 1

Page 212 view page image

212 AfAccil(flcl/s. THE FEMIALE MIARTYR. [MARY G, aged 18, a “SISTER OF

CHARITY,” died in one of otur Atlantic cities, during the prevalence of the Iidian cholera, while in voluntary attendance upon the sick.] “BRIN\G
out your dead!” The midnight street Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call; Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet,Glanced through the dark the coarse wvhite sheet, Her COffill and her pall. ” \Vhat only one!” the brutal hackman said, As, with an oath, he spurned away the dead. How sunk the inmost hearts of all, As rolled that dead-cart slowly by, \With creaking wheel and harsh hoof-fall! The dying turned him to the wall, To hear it and to die!  Onward it rolled; while oft its driver stayed, And hoarsely clamored, “Ho! bring out your dead.” It paused beside the burial-place; “Toss in your load!” and it was done.WNith quick hand and averted face, Hastily to the grave’s embrace They cast them, one by one,Stranger and frienld,-the evil and the just, Together trodden in the churchyard dust! And thou, young martyr!-thou wast there, No white-robed sisters round thee trod,Nor holy hymn, nor funeral prayer Rose through the damp and noisome air, Giving thee to thy God; Nor flower, nor cross, nor hallowed taper gave Grace to the dead, and beauty to the grave! Yet, gentle sufferer! there shall be, In every heart of kindly feeling, A rite as holy paid to thee As if beneath the convent-tree Thy sisterhood wvere kneeling, At vesper hours, like sorrowing angels, keeping 1’heir tearful wsatch around thy place of sleeping. ,Ifiscc//(I/Ieolls. 21 2

Page 213 view page image

-Te Peruale fartyr. For thou wast one in whom the light Of Heaven’s ow n love was kindled wvell. Enduring with a mart-r’s might, Through weary day and wakeful night, Far more than wvords may tell: Gentle, and meek, and lowvly, and unknown,Thy mercies measured by thy God alone! \Where manly hearts where failing, where The throngful street grew foul with death, O
high-souled martyr! thou w\ast there, Inhaling, from the loathsome air, Poison with every breath. Yet shrinking not from offices of dread For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead And, where the sickly taper shed Its light through vapors, dclamp, confined, Hushed as a seraph’s fell thy tread,A new Electra by the bed Of suffering human-kind! Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay, To that pure hope which fadeth not away.

Innocent teacher of the high And holy mysteries of Heaven! IHow turned to thee each glazing eye, In mute and awful sympathy, As thy low prayers were given; And the o’er-hovering Spoiler wore, the while, An angel’s features,-a deliverer’s smile! A blessed task!-and worthy one \Who, turning from the world, as thou, Before life’s pathway had begun To leave its springtime flower and sun, Had sealed her early vow; Giving to God her beauty and her youth, Iler pure affections and her guileless truth.

Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here Could be for thee a meet reward; Thine is a treasure far mnore dear,Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear Of liv\ing mortal heard,The joys prep)ared, the promised bliss above,The holy presence of Eternal Love I 2 I,! I

Page 214 view page image

AisJscelaneols. Sleep on in peace. The earth has not A nobler name than thine shall be. The deeds by martial manhood wrought, The lofty energies of thought, The fire of poesy,These have but frail and fading honors; thine Shall Time unto Eternity consign. Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down, And human pride and grandeur fall, The herald’s line of long renown, The mitre and the kingly crown, Perishing glories all! The pure devotion of thy generous heart Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part. THE FROST SPIRIT. .~~ e-HE comes, he comes, “” -the Frost Spirit comes! You may [‘ “‘: ”’:trace his footstep ~~ -~;-~now ……. On the naked woods and the blasted n~~~…… fields and the brown hill’s withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their pleas ant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth. THEF FROST SPIRITH THE FOST SPIIT He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit COMES. comes! from the frozen Labrador,From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o’er,Where the fisherman’s sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues grow! He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes!-on the rush ing northern blast, And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath went past, 2I4

Page 215 view page image

Tlec VoaiilolA/ TetarhezAr. 215 \Nith in unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of Hecla glowx -)n the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below. He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes! and the quiet lake shall feel ‘1he torpidl touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater’s heel; An,( the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sanig to the leaning grass, Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence pass. lie comes,- he comes, the Frost Spirit comes! let us meet him as we may, And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power away; And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances high, And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing goes by! THE VAUDOIS TEACHER.“8 0 LADY fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare,  The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty’s queen might wear; And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light they vie; I have brought them with me a weary -ay, -\ill my gentle lady bur?” And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls ANhich veiledl her brow as she bent to viewv his silks and glitter ing pearls; And she placed their price in the old manr’s hand, and lightly turned a-wav, But she paused at the wanderer’s earnest call,-‘ My gentle lady, stay!” “0 lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer lustre flings, Shan the diamond flash of the je\elled crowvn on the lofty brow of kings.A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay, \Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy weay!”

Page 216 view page image

i4 AND THE LADY SMIILED ON THE WORN OLD MAN.

Page 217 view page image

The Vaudois Teacher. 217 The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace was seen, Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping pearls between, “Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveller gray and old,And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy gold.” The cloud went off from the pilgrimn’s brow, as a small and meagre book, Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folding robe he took! “Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to thee! Nay-keep thy gold-I ask it not, for the word of God is free!” The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he left behind Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden’s mind, And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth, And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth! And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil faith had power, The courtly knights of her father’s train, and the maidens of her bower; And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by lordly feet untrod, Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in the perfect love of God!

Page 218 view page image

21 -sc/icis THE CALL OF THE CHRISTIAN. NOT always as the whirlwind’s rush On Horeb’s mount of fear, Not always as the burning bush To Mlidian’s shep)herd seer, Nor as the awful voice which came To Israel’s prophet bards, Nor as the tongues of cloven flame, Nor gift of fearful words, Not always thus, with outward sign Of fire or voice from Heaven, The message of a truth divine, The call of God is given! Awaking in the humnian heart Love for the true and right,Zeal for the Christian’s better part, Strength for the Christian’s fight. Nor unto manhood’s heart alone The holy influence steals: \Warm with a rapture not its own, The heart of woman feels! As she w\ho bv Samaria’s wall The Saviour’s errand sought,As thqse who with the fervent Paul And meek Aquila wrought: Or those meek ones whose martyrdom Rome’s gathered grandeur saw Or those w ho in their Alpine home Braved the Crusader’s war, When the green Vaudois, trembling heard.

Through all its vales of death, The martyr’s songof triumph poured From woman’s failing breath. And gently, by a thousand things WVhich o’er our spirits pass, Like breezes o’er the harp’s fine strings, Or vapors o’er a glass, Leaving their token strange and new Of music or of shade, The summons to the right and true And merciful is made. 213 Jfisccllaneoiis.

Page 219 view page image

JJy S()u/ and 1. 219 0, then, if gleams of truth and light Flash o’er thy waiting mind, Unfolding to thy mental sight The wants of human-kind; If.

brooding over human grief, The earnest wish is known To soothe and gladden with relief An anguish not thine own; Though heralded with naught of fear, Or outward sign or show; Though only to the inward ear It whispers soft and low; Though dropping, as the manna fell, Unseen, yet firom above, Noiseless as de\w-fall, heed it well, Thy Father’s call of love! MY SOUL

AND I. STAND still, my soul, in the silent dark 1 would question thee, Alone in the shadow drear and stark WVith God and me! \Vhat, my soul, was thy errand here? WVas it mirth or ease, Or heal)ing up d(ust from year to )ear? ” ay, none of these!” SI)eak, soul, aright in His holy sight Whose eye looks still And steadily on thee through the night: “To do his will!”

WN,hat hast thou done, 0 soul of mine, That thou tremblest so? Hast thou wrought his task, and kept the line He bade thee go? What, silent all!

art sad of cheer? Art fearful now? When God seemed far and men were near, How brave wert thou! Jfy Soiil and -1. 219

Page 220 view page image

Jf iscellanzeos. Aha! thou tremblest! well I see Thou’rt craven grown. Is it so hard with God and me To stand alone? Summon thy sunshine bravery back, 0 wretched sprite! Let me hear thy voice through this deep and black Abysmal night. S1AND) S’ILL, MY SOUL, IN THE SILENT DARK. What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth, For God and Man, From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth To life’s mid span? Ah, soul of mine, thy tones I hear, But weak and low, Like far sad murmurs on my ear They come and go. 220

Page 221 view page image

3fy Soul/ alnl I. “I ha-e w\restledi stoutly with the WVrong, And borne the Right From beneath the footfall of the throng To life and light.

“\VN’herever Freedom shivered a chain, God speed, quoth I; To Error amidst her shouting train I gave the lie.” Ah, soul of mine! ah, soul of mine!

Thv deed(s are Nell: \Vere they wvrought for Truth’s sake or for thine?

IMy soul, pray tell. “Of all the work my hand hath wrought Beneath the sky, Save a place in kind(ly human thought, No gain have I.” Go to, go to!

for thy very self Thy deeds wvere (lone: Thou for fame, the miser for pelf, Your end is one! And -here art thou going, soul of mine? Canst see the end? And whither this troubled life of thine Evermore doth tend? \Vhat daunts thee now? what shakes thee so? My sad soul say. “I see a cloudl like a curtain low Hang o’er my way. ” WVhither I go I cannot tell: That cloud hangs black, High as the heaven and deep as hell Across my track. “I see its shadowv coldly enwrap The souls before. Sadly they enter it, step by step, To return no more. 2 2 1

Page 222 view page image

M iscellaneous. “They shrink, they shudder, dear God! they kneel To thee in prayer. They shut their eyes on the cloud, but feel That it still is there. “In vain they turn from the dread Before To the Known and Gone; For while gazing behind them evermore Their feet glide on. “Yet, at times, I see up on sweet pale faces A light begin To tremble, as if from holy places And shrines within. “And at times methinks their cold lips move With hymn and prayer, As if somewvhat of awe, but more of love And hope were there. I SEE UPON SWEET PALE FACES A LIGHT BEGIN‘1O TREMBLE. “I call on the souls who have left the light To reveal their lot; I bend mine ear to that wall of night, And they answer not. “But I hear around me sighs of pain And the cry of fear, And a sound like the slow sad dropping of rain, Each drop a tear! “Ah, the cloud is dark, and day by day I am moving thither: I must pass beneath it on my way God pity me!-WHITHER?” Ah, soul of mine! so brave and wise In the life-storm loud, Fronting so calmly all human eyes In the sunlit crowd! 222

Page 223 view page image

-~~~~~ySzladI 2 Now standing apart with God and me Thou art wAeakness all, Gazing vainly after the things to be Through Death’s dread wall. But never for this, never for this \Was thv being lent; For the craven’s fear is but selfishness, Like his merriment. Folly and Fear are sisters twain: One closing her eyes, The other peopling the dark inane With spectral lies.

Know well, mv soul, God’s hand controls Whate’er thou fearest; Round him in calmest music rolls \Whate’er thou hearest. What to thee is shadow, to him is day, And the end he knoweth, And not on a blind and aimless way The spirit goeth. Man sees no future,-a phantom show Is alone before him: Past Time is dead, and the grasses grow, And flowers bloom o’er him. Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of Faith Fall on the seeming vXoid, and find The rock beneath. The Present, the Present is all thou hast For thy sure possessing; Like the p)atriarch’s angel hold it fast Till it gives its btessing. Whv fear the night? why shrink from Death, That phantom wan?

There is nothing in heaven or earth beneath Sa-e God and man. My Soiil aiid 1. 2 23

Page 224 view page image

‘1 J FOLLY AND FEAR ARE SISTERS TWAIN,

Page 225 view page image

Szil an J. 225 Peopling the shadow\s we turn from Him And from one another; All is spectral and v ague and dim Save God and our brother! Like warp and woof all destinies Are woven fast, Linked in sympathy like the keys Of an organ vast. Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar; Break but one Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar Through all wvill run. O restless spirit! wherefore strain Beyond thy sphere? Heaven and hell, withl their joy and pain, Are now and here. Back to thyself is measured wvell All thou hast given; Thy neighbor’s Awrong is thy present hell, His bliss, thy heaven. And in life, in death, in (lark and light, A14 are in God’s care: Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep of night, And he is there! All which is real now remaineth, And fadeth never: The hand w\hich upholds it now sustaineth The soul forever. Leaning on him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will, And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness Life’s task fulfil; And that cloud itself, which now before thee Lies clark in v-iew, Shall with beams of light from the inner glory Be stricken through. My Soiil aiid 1. 225

Page 226 view page image

M’zsce/laneoiis. And like meadow mist through autuliIn’s dawni Upiolling thin, Its thickest folds \when about thee drawn Let sunlight in. Then of what is to be, and of what is done, \W’hy queriest thou? The past and the time to be are one, Andl both are NOW! TO A FRIEND, ON HER RETURN FROMW

EUROPE. How sn.iled the land of France Under thy blue ev\e’s glance, Light-hearted rover! Old walls of chateaux gray, Towers of an early), day, W\hich the Three Colors play Flauntingly over. Now midst the ibrilliant train Thronging the blinks of Seine: Now midst the splendor Of the \-ild Alp)ine range, W’aking \ith change on change. Thoughts in thy young heart strange, Lovely, and tender. Vales, soft Elysian, Like those in the vision Of Mirza. when, dreaming, He saw the long hollow dell, Touched by the p)rophet’s spell, Into an ocean swell With its isles teeming. Cliffs wrapped in snows of years, Splintering with icy spears Autumn’s blue heaven: Loose rock and frozen slide, Hung on the mountain-sidle, Waiting their hour to glide Downward, storm-driven! 2 26

Page 227 view page image

-~~~~~~ frcd 2 Rhine-stream, by castle old, Baron’s and robber’s hold, Peacefully flo\ing; Swee)piIg through vineyards green, Or where the cliffs are seen O’er the broad wave between Grim shadows throw\ing. Or, where St.

Peter’s dome Swells o’er eternal Rome, Vast, dim, and solemn,Hymns e\ er chanting lo\w,Censers swung to and fro,Sable stoles s\eeping slow Cornice and column! 0, as fromi each and all Will there not xvoices call Evermore back again? In the mind’s gallery Wilt thou not alw\ays see Diin phantoms beckon thee O’er that old track again? Newxv forms thy presence haunt, New voices softly chant, New faces greet thee!Pilgriims from many a shrine Hallo\ed by poet’s line, At mnemory’s magic sign, Rising to meet thee.

And wAhen such visions come Unto thv olden home, \Will the\ not waken Deep thoughts of Him whose hand Led thee o’er sea and land Back to the household band \‘hence thou wvast taken? WVhile, at the sunset time, Swells the cathedral’s chime, Yet, in thy dreaming, WVhile to thy spirit’s eye Yet the vast mountains lie Piled in the Sw\itzer’s sky, Icy and gleaming: To a -Frieizd. 2 2 7

Page 228 view page image

AM isce/llaneoius. Prompter of silent prayer, Be the wild picture there In the min(l’s chamber, And, through each coiling day Him who, as staff and stay, Watched o’er thy wandering way, Freshly remember. So, when the call shall be Soon or late unto thee, As to all given, Still may that p)icture live, All its fair forIms survive, AnIt to thy spirit give Gladness in Heaven! THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. A FREE PARAPHRASE OF THE GERMAN. To weary hearts, to mIourning homes, God’s meekest Angel gently comes: No power has le to l)anish pain, Or give us back our lost again And yet in tenderest love, our clear An(l Heavenly Father-sends him here. There’s quiet in that Angel’s glance, There’s rest in his still countenance! He mocks no grief with idle cheer, Nor wound(s \w-ith words the imourner’s eara But ills and wfoes he may not cure He kindly trains us to endure. Angel of Patience! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling palm; To lay the stotrms of hope and fear, And reconcile life’s smile and tear; The throbs of \voundled pride to still, And make our o\vwn our Father’s will! O thou who mournest on thy way, WVith longings for the close of day; He walks with thee, that Angel kind, And gently whispl)ers, “Be resigned: Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell The dear Lord ordereth all things well!” 228

Page 229 view page image

229 FOLLEN. ON READIN(; HIS ESSAY ON THE ” FUTURE STATE.” FRIEND of my soul!-as with moist eye I look up from this page of thine, Is it a direari that thou art nigh, Thy mild face gazing into mine? That presence seems before me noiw, A pl)acicl heaven of steet moonrise, \When, lew\v-like, on the earth belowv Descends the quiet of the skies. The calm brow throug,h the parted hair, The gentle lips which knew no guile, Softening the blue e-e’s thoughtful care \NWith the bland beauty of their smIile. Ah me! at times that last dread scene Of Frost and Fire and moaning Sea, \Vill cast its shade of doubt between The failing eyes of Faith and thee. Yet, lingering o’er thy charmed page, Where through the twilight air of earth, Alike enthusiast and sage, Prophet ancl bard, thou gazest forth; Lifting the Future’s solemn veil; The reaching of a mortal han(d To put aside the coldl and pale Cloud-curtains of the Unseen Land; In thoughts which answer to my own, In words which reach my inward ear, Like whispers from the void Unknown, I feel thy li1nig presence here. The waves which lull thy body’s rest, The dust thy pilgrim footsteps trod, Unwasted, through each change, attest The fixed economy of God. Shall these poor elements outlive The mind \hose kingly whill they wrought? Their gross unconsciousness survive Thy godlike energy of thought? tio//,,l/.

Page 230 view page image

-/i scelltitoaus. ‘rHOU LIVEST, FOLLEN! not in vain Hath thy fine spirit meekly borne The burthen of Life’s cross of pain, And the thorned crown of suffering worn. 0, while Life’s solemn mystery glooms Around us like a (lungeonr’s wall,Silent earth’s pale and crowded tombs, Silent the heaven which bends o’er all! \While day by dlay our loved ones glide In sp)ectr-al silence, hushed and lone, To the cold shadows which divide The liv ing from the dread Unknown; \While even on the closing eye, And on the lip which moves in vain, The seals of that stern mystery Their undiscovered trust retain; And only midst the gloom of death, Its mournful doubts and haunting fears, Two p)ale, sweet angels, Hope and Faith, Smile dimly on us through their tears; ‘T is something to a heart like mine To think of thee as living yet; To feel that such a light as thine Could not in utter darkness set. Less dreary seems the untried way Since thou hast left thy footprints there, And beams of mournful beauty play Round the sad Angel’s sable hair. Oh!-at this hour when half the sky Is glorious with its evening light, And fair broad fields of summer lie Hunig o’er with greenness in my sight; \Vhile through these elm-boughs wet with rain The sunset’s golden walls are seen, With clover-bloomrn and yellow grain And wood-drapl)ed hill and stream between; 230

Page 231 view page image

fo/len. 231 I long to know if scenes like this Are hidden from an angel’s eyes; If earth’s familiar loveliness Haunts not thy heaven’s serener skies. THE SUNSETrS GOLDEN WALLS ARE SEEN, WITH CLOVER-BLOOM AND YELLOW

GRAIN. For sweetly here upon thee grew The lesson which that beauty gave, The ideal of the Pure and True In earth and sky and gliding wave. Follen.

23I

Page 232 view page image

232 Mis(e/lah’cz(s. And it may be that all \hich lends The soul an ul)\ardl inl)ulse here, With a diviner beauty blel(nds, And greets us ill a holier sl)here. Through groves where blighting never fell The humbler flo\ers of earth may twine; And sinml)le draughts fromi childhlood’s well Blend with the angel-tasted,vine. But be the prying vision v eiled, And let the seeking lips be dumb,Where even sei-apl)h eyes have failed Shall imoital blindness seek to come? We only know that thou hast gone, And that the same returnless tide W-hich bore thee from us still glides on, And -e e\ho mioui-ni thee faith it glide. On all thou lookest we shall look, And to our gaze erelong shall turn That page of Go(l’s nmysterious book WVe so much \ish, )et dread to learn. With Him, I)efore whose aw\ful power Thv spirit bent its trembling knee; Who, in the silent greeting tflo\er, An(l forest leaf, looked out on thee, We leave thee, with a trust serene, \Which Time, nor Change, nor DI)eath can move, W, hile with thy childlike faith \e lean On Him \hose dearest name is Love! TO THE REFORMERS OF

ENGLIANI). GOD bless ye, brothers!-in the fight Ye’re s\aging now, \ e cannot fail, For better is y our sense of right Than king,crift’s tril)le mnail. Than tyrant’s lanw, or bigot’s ban, More nighty is Sour simpllest wor(l; The free heart of an honest man Than crosier or the sword.

Hiscellaiicoits, 23 2

Page 233 view page image

To //le Reefoi-rcrs of ~EngIatznd. Go, let -our l)loated Church rehearse The lesson it has learned so well; It moves not with its prayer or curse The gates of heaven or hell. Let the State scaffold rise again, Did Freedom d(lie when Russell died? Forget -e how the blood of Vane Froim earth’s green bosomn cried? The great hearts of sour olden time Are beating with you, full and strong All holy memories and sublime And glorious round ye throng. The bluff, bold men of Runnymede Are with ye still in times like these, The shades of England’s mighty dead, Your cloud of w\itnesses! The truths ye urge are borne abroad By every wind and every tide; The voice of Nature and of God Speaks out upon your side. The weapons which y-our hands have found Are those which Heaven itself has wrought, Light, Truth, and Love; y;-,our battleground The free, broad field of Thoughit. No partial, selfish purpose breaks The simple beauty of your plan, Nor lie from throne or altar shakes Your steady faith in man.

The languid pulse of England starts And bounds beneath your words of power, The beating of her million hearts Is with you at this hour! O ye who, with undoubting eyes, Through present cloud and gathering storm, Behold the sp)an of Freedom’s skies, And sunshine soft and wvarm, 233

Page 234 view page image

Miscellaneous. Press bravely onward! not in vain Your generous trust in human-kind; The good which bloodshed could not gain Your peaceful zeal shall find. Press on! the triumph shall be won Of common rights and equal lawvs, The glorious dream of Harrington, And Sidney’s good old cause.

Blessing the cotter and the crowvn, Sweetening worn Labor’s bitter cu)p; And, plucking not the highest down, Lifting the lo\est up. Press on! -and we who may not share The toil or glory of your fight May ask, at least, in earnest pr-ayer, God’s blessinig on the right! THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN

TIME. THE Quaker of the olden time! How calm and firm and true, Unspotted by its -wronIg and crime, He walked the (lark earth through. The lust of power, the love of gain, The thousand lures of sinll Around hi:n, had no powser to stain The purity \ithin. \Vith that deep insight which detects All great things in the smnall, And knows howv each man’s life affects Tile spiritual life of all, He walked by faith and not by sight, By love and not by lavw; The presence of the wrong or right He rather felt than saw. He felt that wrong with wrong partakes, That nothing stands alone, That \lio()so gi\es the motive, makes I.is }I)othcI s si;i {his o\vn. 234

Page 235 view page image

The Rcfornzer.2 And, pausing not for doubtful choice Of evils great or small, He listened to that invar(l voice Which called awvay from all. O

Spirit of that early lda, So pure and strong and true, Be with us in the narrow way Our faithful fathers knew. Give strength the evil to forsake, The cross of Truth to hear, And love and reverent fear to make Our daily lives a prayer! THE REFORMER. ALL grim and soiled and brown with tan, I saw a Strong One, in his wrath, Smiting the godless shrines of man Along his p)ath. The Church, beneath her trembling dome, Essayed in vain her ghostly charinm: \VNealth shiook within his gilded home \‘ith strange alarm. Fraud from l-his secret chambers fled Before the sunlight bursting in: Sloth drew her p)illow o’er her head To drown the din. “Spar-e,” Art implo-redl, “yon holy pile; That grandcl, old, tilme-\worn turret sl)a-c;’

Mleek Reverence, kneeling in the aisle, Cried out, “Forbear!” Graybearded Ulse, who, d(leaf and blind, Groped for his old accustomed stone, Leaned on his staff, and \el)t to find His seat o’erthrown. Young Romance raised his dreamy eyes, O’erhung \ ith pal, locks of gold,”\ hy smile,” lie askedl ini sacl surprise, ” The fair-, the ol(?” 235

Page 236 view page image

J6i’sc Alei cous. Yet louder rang the Strong One’s stroke, Yet nearer flashed his axe’s gleam; Shuddering and sick of heart I woke, As from a dream. I looked: aside the dust-cloud rolled, The \Waster seemed the Builder too; Up springing froin the ruined Old I saw the New. ‘T was but the ruin of the bad, The wasting of the wrong and ill; \Whate’er of good the old time had \Was living still. Calm grew the brows of him I feared; The frown which awed me passed astay, And left behind a smile which cheered Like breaking day. The grain grew green on battle-plains, O’er swarded wvar-mounds grazed the cow; The slave stood forging from his chains The spade and plough. Where frowned the fort, pavilions gay And cottage windows, flower-entwined, Looked out upon the peaceful bay And hills behind. Through vine-wvreathed cups with wine once red, The lights on l)rimming’, crvstal fell, Drawn, sparkling, front the rivulet head Andr mossy well. Through prison walls, like Heavensent hope, Fresh b)reezes blewv, an(l sunbeams strayed, And with the idle gallows-rope The young child played. \Where the doomed victim in his cell Had counted o’er the weary hours, Glad school-girls, answering to the bell, Came crowned with flowers. 236

Page 237 view page image

GLAD SCHOOL-GIRLS, ANSWERING TO THE BELL, CAME CROWNED WITH FLOWFRS.

Page 238 view page image

Aldzs’Clt Il/COlIS. Grown wviser for the lesson gi\en, I fear no longer.

for I know That, where the share is deepest driven, The best fruits grow.

The outworn rite, the old ab’lse, The pious fraud transp)arent grown, The good heldl captive in the use Of wrong alone, These wait their doom, fomn that great lawv \Vhich makes the past time serx e to-dlay; And fresher life the worlcl shall draw From their decay. 0, backward-looking soii of time! The new is oldl, the old is new, The cycle of a change sublilne Still sweeping through. So wisely taught the Indian seer; Dcstroving Seva, forminig 13rahm, \Vho wake b)y turns Earth’s love and fear, Are one, the same. As idlv as, in that old day Thou mournest, didl thy sires repie; So, in his time, thy child grown gray Shall sigh for thine. Yet not the less for them or thou; Th’ eternal step of Progress l)eats To that great anthem, calm an(l slow. \Which God repeats. Take heart!-the \Waster builds again, A charmed life old Goodness hath’ The tares may perish, -but the grain Is not for death. God works in all things; all ol)cv His first )rop)ulsion from the r.i’.t 1io, wake an( wxatchLtei. -1 \ ” r: v \With morning light! 238

Page 239 view page image

Ti’ Ji/‘st’soticr fo-r Dc-I)I. THE lPRISONER FOR DEBFT.. LOOK on him!

-throughl his dlungeon grate Feebly and cold, the morning, light Comes stealing round himi, dimii and late, As if it loathed the sight. Reclining on his stravy bed, His hand upholds his drooping head,His bloodless cheek is seamned and hard, Unshorn his gray, neglected beard; And o’er his bony fingers flo\v His long, dishevelled locks of snow. No grateful fire before him glows, And yet the winter’s breath is chill And o’er-his half-clclad )erson goes The frc(lquentt ague thli-ill Silent, sa-e e-er \ and ainoIn, A sound, h-alf murmiur and half groan, Forces ap)art the painful gril) Of the oldi sufferer’s l)eardledl lip O sadcl and crulshilng is the fate Of old age chained and desolate! Just God! w-hy lies that old man there? A murderier shares his i)rison bed, \Vhose eI-el)alls, through his horrid hair, Gleam’ onl him, hfierce and red; And the rude oath an(l heartless jeer Fall eC\er on his loathing ear, AnII, cor in w-akefulines or sleep, Ner-, i] sh, an(l puI)lses thrill an(l creep \Vn’h c’rr t!hat ruffi:n’s tossing limb, Cri-imsoi \ ith murder, touches him! \V-hiit has the gray-haired prisoner (lone? II as iur(er stained his handcis \ith gore?

Not so; his crime’s a fouler one GOD \I -DE T HE OLD MIAN POOR! For this hle shares a felon’s cell, Tlhe littest carthly t\ l)e of hell FI - t’i, t( 1)(o{, for hich he poutred T’iS I; (,11 teic i:-‘-S s\ord, An’ co”’.t+
li’-t t. f, )t, I iis la1o o-ine1 li).t, i! .239

Page 240 view page image

Miscellaineous. And so, for such a place of rest, - Old prisoner, dropped thy blood as rain On Concordcl’s field, and Bunker’s crest, And Saratoga’s plain? Look forth, thou man of many scars, Through thy dim dungeon’s iron b)ars; It must be joy, in sooth, to see Yon monument up)rearedl to thee,Piled granite and a prison cell, The land repays thy service well!

Go, ring the bells and fire the guns, And fling the starry banner out; Shout “Freedom!” till your lisping ones Give back their crad(le-shout; Let boastful eloquence declaim Of honor, liberty, and fame; Still let the p)oet’s strain be heard, With glory for each second wvor(ld, And e-ery-thing \ith breath agree To praise ” our glorious liberty!” But when the patron cannon jars That p)rison’s cold an(l gloomy wall, And( through its grates the stripes anc sta-rs Rise on the windl, and( fall,Think ye that p)risoner’s aged( ear Rejoices in the general cheer? Think -e his dim and failing eye Is kindled at your pageantry? Sorrowing of soul, and(
chained of limln), WVhat is )‘our carnival to him? Down withl the LAW that b)inds himt thus! Un\ orthy freemeni, let it find No refuge from the withering curse Of God and human kind! Open the prison’s living tomb, And usher from its bi-oodinig gloom The victims of your savage co(le To the free sun and air of God; No longer dare as crime to brand The chastening of the Almighty’s hand. 240

Page 241 view page image

Ii’Zls. LI INES, WRIlTTEN ON READING PA.MIPHLEIS PUBLISHED 1,Y CLERGY MEN

A(;AINS’ T”HE ABOLITION OF T’HE GALLOWS. I. THE suns of eighteen centuries have shone Since the Redeemner wvalked with man, and imade The fisher’s b)oat, the cavern’s floor of stone, And mountain mioss, a pillow for his head; And He, xwhlo -and(leredcl with the peasant Je\v, And broke with publicans the l)read of shame, And drank, withl blessings in his Father’s namne, The wAater \a hichl Samiaria’s outcast (lrew, Hath nowv his temples upon exev  shore, Altar and shrine andl pI)riest,- an(l incense dim Evermore rising, faith low prayer and hvwnn, From lips) which press the teml)le’s marble floor, Or kiss the gillded( sign of the dread Cross He bore. II. Yet as of old, when, meekly “doing good,” He fed a blind and selfish multitudle, And even the poor companions of his lot With their dim earthly vision knew him not, How ill are his high teachings un(lerstoo(d! \Where He hath spoken Liberty, the priest At his own altar binds the chain anew; Where He hath bicddlen to Life’s e(lual feast, The starving many wait upon the few Where He hath sl)oken 1’eace, his name hath been The loudest w\ar-c-Nry of contendinig men Priests, pale wNith vigils, in his name have blessed The unsheathed sword, and laid the spear in rest, Wet the war-)anner w\ith their sacred( wine, And crossed its blazon with the hol signl; Yea, in his name who bad(le the erring live, And dlaily taught his lesson,-to for,give! Twisted the cord and edged the murderous steel And, w\ith his words of mercy on their lips, Hung gloating o’er the pincer’s burning grips, And the grim horror of the straining wheel; Fed the slow flame which gnawed the victim’s limb 241

Page 242 view page image

242 AIAY711(lflcOus. WVho saw before his searing eyeballs swim The image of ichir’ Christ in cruel zeal, Through the black torment-smoke, held mockingly to him! III. The blood which mingled with the desert sand, And beaded with its red and ghastly dew The vines and olives of the Holy Land, The shriekling curses of the hunted Jew,The -white-sown bones of heretics, wvhere’er Thev sank beneath the Crusadle’s holy spear,Goa;s dark dungeons, MNlalta’s seawashed cell, WVhere with the hxymns the ghostly fathers sung Mingled the groans byr subtle torture wrung, Hea-en’s anthem blen(ling with the shriek of hell The midnight of Bartholome\vw,-the stake Of Smithfield, and that thrice-accursed flame \Vhichl Calvin kindled by Geneva’s lake,New\ England’s scaffold, and the priestly sneer \Vhichl mocked its victims in that hour of fear, WVhen guilt itself a human tear might claim,Bear w\itness, O thou wvronged and merciful One That Earth’s most hateful crimes have in thy name been (lone. IV. Tha’ak God! that I have lived to see the time \When the great truth begins at last to find .ni utterance from the deep heart of mankind, LIarnest and clear, that ALL

REVENGE IS CRIME That man is holier than a creed, that all RIestraint upon him must consult his good, lIop’s sunshine linger on his prison wall, \And Loxve look in up)on his solitude. TIhe l)eautiful lesson wChichl our Saviour taught Threugh long, dlark centuries its way hath wrought Into the common mind and popular thought And words, to which by Galilee’s lake shore The humble fishers listened with hushed oar, Have found an echo in the general heart, And of the public faith become a living part. V. WVho shall a-rrest this tenlency?-BBring back The cells of V,enice and the bigot’s rack? Miscelltilicoiis. 2 4-?

Page 243 view page image

243 Harden the softening human heart again To cold indifference to a brother’s pain? Ye most unhappy men! who, turned away From the mild sunshine of the Gospel day, Grope in the shadows of Man’s twilight time, WVhat mean ye, that with ghoul-like zest ye brood, O’er those foul altars streaming with warm blood, Permitted in another age and clime? \Why cite that law with which the bigot Jew Rebuked the Pagan’s mnercy, when he knewv No e\il in the Just One? \Vherefore turn To the dark cruel past?

Can ye not learn From the pure Teacher’s life, howv mildly free Is the great Gospel of Humanitv? The Flamen’s knife is bloodless, and no more MIexitli’s altars soak with human gore, No more the ghastly sacrifices smoke Through the green arches of the Druid’s oak; And ye of milder faith, with your high claim Of p)rophet-utterance in the Holiest name, \iIll ye become the Druids of ouzr time! Set up your scaffol(-altars in ouzr land, And, consecrators of Lawv’s darkest crime, Urge to its loathsome work the hangman’s hand? Bexwart-e,-lest human nature, roused at last, From its peeled shoulder your encumbrance cast, And, sick to loathing of your cry for blood, Rank ye with those who led their victims round The Celt’s red altar and the Intlian’s mound, Abhorred of Earth and Heaven,- a pagan brotherhood! THE HUMIAN SACRIFICE. I. FAR from his close and noisome cell, By grassy lane and sunnvy stream, Blo\wn clover field and strawberry dlell, And green and mea(ldowv freshness, fell The footstel,s of his dream. Again from careless feet the ldewv Of summer s misty morn he shook; Again faith merry heart he threw His light line in the rippling brook.

Back crowded( all his school-d(ay joys, He urged the ball and(I qtuoit again, Antl heard the sl)hout of laughing boys Come ringing dowfn the walnut glen. Y’lie Hiiiiitziz Stzci-l’

Page 244 view page image

Miscel/aeovus. FAR FROM HIS CLOSE AND NOISOME CELL, BY GRASSY LANE AND

SUNNY STREAM. Again he felt the western breeze, With scent of flowers and crisping hay; And down again through wind-stirred trees He saw the quivering sunlight play, An angel in home’s vine-hung door, He saw his sister smile once more; Once more the truant’s brown-locked head Upon his mother’s knees was laid, And sweetly lulled to slumber there, With evening’s holy hymn and prayer! II. He woke. At once on heart and brain The present Terror rushed again,Clanked on his limbs the felon’s chain! He woke, to hear the churchl-tower tell Time’s footfall on the conscious bell, And, shuddering, feel that clanging din His life’s LAST HOUR had ushered in; 244

Page 245 view page image

T/he HiiZ laiz S(crifice. To see \ithiin his prison-yard, Through the smanll \-indow, iron barred, The gallo\ws shaldow rising dim Between the sunrise heaven and him,A horror in Godcl’s blessed air, A blackness in his morning light,  Like some foul devxil-altar there Built up by demon han(ls at night. And, maddened bv that evil sight, Dark, horrible, confused, and strange, A chaios of wild, weltering change, All )power of check and guidance gone Dizzy and blind, his mind swept on. In Xain he strove to breathe a prayer, In vain he turned the Holy Book, He only heard the gallows-stair Creak as the wAind its timbers shook. No dream for him of sin forgiven, While still that baleful spectre stood, \With its hoarse murmur, “‘Bloodfor Blood.” Between him and the pitying Heaven! III. Low on his dungeon floor he knelt, And smote his breast, and on his chain, Whose iron clasp he alwa)ys felt, His hot teal s fell like rain; And near him, w\ith the cold, calm look And tone of one whose formal part, Unalarmed, unsoftened of the heart, Is measured out by rule andl book, \Vith placid lip and tranquil blood, The hangman’s ghostly ally stood, Blessing ith solemn text and word The gallows-drop and strangling cord; Lending the sacred Gospel’s awe And sanction to the crime of Law. IV. He saw-the -
ictim’s tortured b)row, The sweat of anguish starting there, The record of a nameless shoe In the dim eve’s imp)loring stare, Seen hideous through the long, damp hair, Fingers of ghastly skin aid bone \Working and writhing on the stone! 245

Page 246 view page image

-Afisc/lafncous. And heard, by mortal terror wrung From heaving breast and stiffened t(ongue, The choking sob and lo\s hoarse prayer; As o’er his half-crazed fancy came A vision of the eternal flame,Its smoking cloud of agonies, Its clexmon-wormn that never dies,The everlasting rise and fall Of fire-wavaxes round the infernal wall \Vhile high above that dark red flood, Black, giant-like, the gallows stood; Two busy fiends attending there: One with cold mocking rite and prayer, The other with impatient grasp, Tightening the dcleath-rope’s strangling clasp. V. The unfelt rite at length wvas done, The p)rayer unheard at length was said,An hour had passed:-the noonday sun Smote on the features of the dead! And he who stood the dloomed( beside, Calm gauger of the swelling tide Of mortal agony and fear, Heeding \ith curious ene and ear \Whate’er revealed the keen excess Of man’s extremest wretche(lness And \eho in that (lark anguish saw An earnest of the victim’s fate, The vengeful terrors of God(l’s law, The kindlings of Eternal hate,The first drops of that fiery rain \N’hichl b)eats the dark red realmn of pain, Did he uplift his earnest cries Against the crimne of Law, which gave His brother to that fearful grave, \Whereon Hopl)e’s moonlight never lies, And Faith’s white blossoms never wvave To the soft b)reath of ilemory’s siglhs;\Vhich sent a spirit marred and stained, By fiends of sin possessed, profaned, In madness and in b)lindness stark, Into the silent, unknowvn dark? No, from the wild and shrinking dread \Vith wvlhich he sawv the victim led Beneath the dterk veil w\hich divides 246

Page 247 view page image

247 Ev-er the li\ing from the dead, And Nature’s solemn secret hildes, The man of prayer can only drawv New reasons for his bloody lavw; Newv faith in staying MIurdcler’s han(l By murder at that Law’s command; New reverence for the gallows-rope, As human nature’s latest hope; Last relic of the good old time, When Power found license for its crime, And held a writhing world in check By that fell cord about its neck; Stifled Sedition’s rising shout, Choked the young breath of Freedlom out, And timely checked the words which sl)prung From Heresy’s forbidden tongue; While in its noose of terror bound, The Church its cherished union found, Conforming, on the Moslem plan, The motley-coloredcl mind of man, Not by the Koran and the Sword, But by the Bible and the Cord! f. 0 Thou! at whose rebuke the grave Back to warm life its sleeper gav e, Beneath whose sad and tearful glance The cold and changed countenance Broke the still horror of its trance, And, waking, saw with joy above, A brother’s face of tenderest love; Thou, unto \whom the blind and lame, The sorrowing and the sin-sick came, And from thy very garment’s hem Drew life and healing unto them. The burden of thy holy faith Was love and life, not hate and death, Man’s demon ministers of pain, The fiends of his revenge were sent From thy pure Gospel’s element To their dlark home again. Thy name is Love!

What, then, is he, Who in that name the gallows rears, An awful altar built to thee, With sacrifice of blood and tears? The Rililit7li,‘Ytlc

Page 248 view page image

AMiscllt c(neous. 0, once again thy healing lay On the blind eyes which knew thee not, And let the light of thy pure day Melt in upon his darkened thought. Soften his hard, cold heart, and showv The power which in forbearance lies, And let himi feel that iiiercy now Is better than old sacrifice! VII. As on the White Sea’s charmed shore, The Parsee sees his holy hill With dunnest smoke-clouds curtained o’er, Yet knows beneath them, evermore, The low, pale fire is quivering still; So, underneath its clou(ls of sin, The heart of man retaineth yet Gleams of its holy origin; And half-quenched( stars tlhat never set, Dimi colors of its fa(led )ovw, And earl)y beaut-, linger there, And o’er its wasted desert )low Faint breathings of its morning air, 0, never yet Ul)On the scroll Of the sin-stainie(l, l)ut priceless soul, Hath Hea\ven inscribed ” I)ESPAIR!”

Cast not the cloud(le(l gem aw\ay, quench not the (lim but living ray, 1My l)r-)otler Iane, I~cware! WNithl that deep voice Awhichl from the skies Forbad(le the Patriarch’s sacrifice, God’s angel cries, FORBEAR!

DEMIOCRACY. All things whatsoever e X oldl that men shol1l(l do to you, do ye even so to them. lAzteow X ii. 12. IBEARER of Freedoma’s holy light, Breaker of Slaverv’s clhailn anid( ro(l, The foe of all which plains the light, Or w\ound(s the generous ear of G(od! 248 .t

Page 249 view page image

249 Beautiful yet thl tenmples rise, Though there )rofaning gifts are thrown: And fires unkin(lle(l of the skies Are glaring round thy altar-stone. Still sacred, though thy name be breathed By those whose hearts thy truth deride; And garlands, pl)ucke(l from thee, are wreathed Around the haughty brows of Pride. 0, ideal of my boyhood(‘s time! The faith in which my father stood, Even whien the sons of Lust and(l Crime Had stained thy peaceful courts with T)loo(I! Still to those courts my footsteps turn, For through the mists which d(larken there, I see the flame of Freedom burn,  The Kebla of the patriot’s prayer! The generous feeling, pure an(l warim, Which owns the rights of ad# d(liine, The pitying heart, the helping arm, The prompl)t self-sacrifice, are thine.

BIeneath thy broad, impartial eye, How fade the lines of caste an(l l)irtli! How eclual in their suffering lie The groaninig multitud(les of earth! Still to a stricken brother true, Whatever clime hath nurture( him; As stoope(l to heal the woundcle(l Jew The worshipl)per of Gerizim. By misery unrepelled, unawed By pomp or power, thou seest a MAN In prince or peasant, slave or lord, Pale priest, or swarthy artisan. Through all disguise, form, place, or name, Beneath the flaunting robes of sin, Through poverty and squalid shame, Thou lookest on the iiiani within.

-)),,nioci-acj,.

Page 250 view page image

250 Onl iman, aS man, r’(tain1in’ -et, Howe’er-clet)as i(I,:in(1
so{ilc(1, an (l (I 1, The cro(wnI l 1)()l h is foI-reht(I set, The iImmiortal gift of (;)(l to hil. An(1 ther-e is r(everenelC inl thl-lool; F’or thait fratil forim \hicih lIoirta(ls \veatr The Spirit )f the HoliIlest took, And( vNeilec his 1)l-fect 1)Irightness thlere. Not fromi the shillow v T)n l)lning fount ()f vain l)hilos()l)h-tlh(tl Irt; He \ho of ol(1 o)n Sv1-ia’s Illoloot Thrille(l, ar (1)y ttirlls, the listener’s lieart, In hol  \or(s \-hich calnnot (lit, In thouhL-Ilts w\hich an,-els le,nle(l to ltoo\, IrocltlimeI(l tlhy IllessaI’e frl)Il (l hiI-h, -Th-Illissi()Iln to t \0orl(1 of \Voe. ‘ThIt \oiCe’S echo hath liot (el(l! Fri-ilI thle )lIie lake (If (;flllee, Al(l I’(l)or’s l eonel-lll)tl0lltiI-si(le, It cills a stru,gglin \or(l-l to thlee. Thyl namie anl( \watchl\or(l o’er-tlis 1lt0(1 I hear in e\ e-vry )reeze t}i1It stirs, AO(i 1-()ti0(l ( thlI()osaI(l a(lt.ars stail( Thy i)a(l(li( i)ltrty \-()Ishil)l)crs. Not to these ailtair-s of a (lay At )party-‘s caill, my gift I l)ring; But on thy ol(len shrine I lay A freemani’s (learest offering: The -oiceless utteral-ce of his \vill, IHis )le(l,ge to Fice(lornai (0(1 to T’rutih, T’hat Imanhoo(l’s heart -rememl)ers still The homiage of his generous youth. Election D,ay, 1843.

Page 251 view page image

Randolph of Roanoke. RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE. O MOTHER EARTH! upon thy lap Thy weary ones receiving, And o’er them, silent as a dream, Thy grassy mantle weaving, Fold softly in thy long embrace That heart so worn and broken, And cool its pulse of fire beneath Thy shadows old and oaken. Shut out from him the bitter word And serpent hiss of scorning; Nor let the storms of yesterday Disturb his quiet morning. Breathe over him forgetfulness Of all save deeds of kindness, And, save to smiles of grateful eyes, Press down his lids in blindness. There, where with living ear and eye He heard Potomac’s flowing, And, through his tall ancestral trees, Saw autumn’s sunset glowing, He sleeps,-still looking to the west, Beneath the dark wood shadow, As if he still would see the sun Sink down on wave and meadow, 25 l

Page 252 view page image

MAiscelaneovus. Bardl. Sage, and Tribl)une!-in himself All moods of mindl contrasting,The tenderest wail of human woe, The scorn-like lightning blasting; The p)athos which from rival eyes Unwilling tears could summon, The stinging taunt, the fiery burst Of hatred scarcely human! Mirth, sparkling like a diamond shower, From lips of life-long sadness; Clear )icturings of majestic thought UI)on a ground of madness; And over all Romance and Song A classic beauty throwing, And laurelled Clio at his side Her storied pages showing. All piarties feared himi: each in turn Beheld its schemes dlisjointed, As right or left his fatal glance Andl spectral finger 1)ointed. S\orn foe of Cant, he smote it down \Vith trenchant wit unsparing, And, mocking, rent with ruthless hand The robe Pretence was wearing. Too honest or too proud to feign A love he never cherished, Beyond Virginia’s border line His p)atriotism l)erished. While others hailed( in distant skies Our eagle’s dusky pinion, He only sawv the mountain b)ird Stool) o’er his Old Dominion! Still through each change of fortune strange, Racked nerve, andi brain all burning, His lonving faith in Mother-lan(l Knew never sha(le of turning; Bly Britain’s lakes, l)y Neva’s wave, \Whatever sky wvas o’er him, He heard( her rivers’ rushing sound, Her blue peaks rose before him, 25 2

Page 253 view page image

Rantio/ph of Roanoke. He held his slaves, yet made withal No false and vain pretences, Nor paid a lying priest to seek For Scriptural defences.

His harshest wor(ls of proud rebuke, His bitterest taunt and scorning, Fell fire-like on the Northern brow That bent to him in fawning. He held his slasves; yet kept the while His reverence for the Human; In the dark vassals of his will He saw but Man and \Voman! No hunter of God(‘s outraged poor His Roanoke valley entered; No trader in the souls of men Across his threshold ventured. And when the old and wearied man Lay down\
for his last sleeping, Anti at his side, a slave no more, His l)rother-Imani stood weel)ping, His latest thought, his latest breath, To Free(ldoa’s duty giving, \Vith failing tongue and trembling hand The dy)ing blest the living. 0, never bore his ancient State A truer son or braver! None trampl)ling faith a calmer scorn On foreign hate or favor. He knew her faults, yet never stooped His proud and manly feeling To poor excuses of the \Irong Or mneanness of concealing. But none beheld w ith clearer eye The plague-spl)ot o’er her spreading, None heard more sure the steps of Doom Along her future treading. For her as for himself he spake, \When, his gaunt fraie ul)bi-acing, He traced \ itli (lying hand(l “

REMIORSE!” And perished in the tracing. 25 3

Page 254 view page image

254 As froni the gra\ Ce wherie Henry sleel)s, Fronl Vernor’s weel)ing wil’ow, Andi froIm the g-issy l)all which hid(les The Sa(age of Monticello, So from the leaf-sttiewn burial-stone Of Rand(loll)llh’s lowly d\ elling, Virginiat! o’er thy lncd of slaves A warning voice is swelling!( Andcl hark! fi-oml thy d(leserte(i fields Are sacIdler warnings spoken, From q(uenLclhedl helar-ths, where thy exiled sons Their household go(ls have broken. The curl-se is on thee, -wolves for men And briers for corn-sheaves giving 0, more than all thy dead renown WNere now one hero living! ‘IT() ]O()N(;I’. STLRIKE home, strong-hearted man! Down to the root Of old opp)ression sink the Saxon steel. 7’izy work is to hew down.

In God’s name then Put nerve into thy task. Let other men Plant, as they miay, that better tree whose fruit The woundled bosom of the Church shall heal. Be thou the image-breaker. Let thy blows Fall heav y as the Suabian’s iron hand, On crown or crosier, which shall interpose Between thee and the weal of Fatherland. Leave creeds to closet idlers. First of all, Shake thou all Gerlman dr-eam-land with the fall Of that accursed tree, w hose evil trunk \Vas spared of old by Erfurt’s stalwart monk.

Fight not wAith ghosts and shadows. Let us hear The snap of chain-links.

Let our gladdened ear Catch the )ale prisoner’s welcome, as the light Follows thy axe-stroke, through his cell of night. Be faithful to both worlds; nor think to feed Earth’s star ing millions with the husks of creed. Servant of Him whose mission high and holy \Nas to the wronged, the sorrowing, and the lowly, Thrust not his Eden promise from our sphere, Distant and dim beyond the blue sky’s span; Like him of Patmos, see it, now and here,The New Jerusalem comes down to man! lli’St-t,lltl ll”t)lls.

Page 255 view page image

C(at/iL/I,5 Ila(fi )e \vtarnie( hy Luther’s t’rl . Nor like hiim, \‘Vhcu the ro-use(l’FeutoIt (islshes fr-)mi his lilmi) ‘riFhe r-uste(l chain of ages, lheltl) to l)int(l tils lihan(ls for xlvhoml tlhoul claim’st the freedol) of the nin(l! CHALKLI,Y IAI,L.39 lI()v l)la(l am(l s\weet thi’e oetin of this l)reeze To him \vho tlics From cr()o\v(tle(l street md(l rc(l \-1l’s wveat-vy gle n, ‘ill fLr l)elhin(l himi like a hi(leous d(Iream ‘lhe close (lark city lies! tiere-, \-hile tilt market mu iLi-i.urs, \while umeni thlrong ‘Fhe mIar)le floor Of Mammiiiol’s altair, f(ro-n) the crush an(l (linii Of the \or-l(l’s Imadniess let mce gather in 5I l)etter thloughts once Imor-e. (), oince again I’exi-e, \l)ile on ml\ eaur The cry of Gain Andl lo\v hoarse humi of’firaffic (lies L\(Ly, Ye blessed memories of imy ear-ly d(ay Like sere grass \vet \ith rain!

Once more let God’s green ea-thl a(nd sunset Lir Ol feeliings \waken; ‘Thrlough \eary yeais of toil an(l strife andcl ill, 0, let mie feel that my goo(l agel still Haith not his trust forsaiken. And \ ell (lo time and p)lace l)etlit mlly mlloo(l: Beneattl the t-arms ()f this embracinll 'ood(, a goo(d man malde His homle, like Al)raham resting in the shade Of MIalnre’s lonely 1)alms. Here, riclh -ith autuimn gifts of countless years, ‘Thle virgin soil Turne(l f-rom the shlre hle guid(le(l, a(nd in rain AnlI summer-sunsllslice thil-o\e the fruits an(l graii \Vhiech l)lesse(ld his lhoiiest toil. 255

Page 256 view page image

JMiscellaneous. Here, from his voyages on the stormny seas, Weary and worn, He came to meet his children and to bless The Giver of all good in thankfulness And praise for his return. And here his neighbors gathered in to greet Their friend again, Safe from the wave and the destroying gales, Which reap untimely green Bermuda’s vales, And vex the Carib main. To HIIM

WHO FLIES FROM CROWDED ST’REE’ AND RED WALL S WEARY GLEANM. To hear the good man tell of simple truth, Sown in all hour Of weakness in some far-off Indian isle, From the parched bosom of a barren soil, Raised up in life and power: lIow at those gatherings in Barbadian vales, A tendering love Came o’er him, like the gentle rain froln heaven, And words of fitness to his lips were given, And strength as from above: 256

Page 257 view page image

I 7 0 O 0 I & O 0 p - - — p —.- -p 0 p 0 pp 0 0 0 p - p - 0 P 0 0 A 0 0

-” A p

Page 258 view page image

.l/isccIlalecous. 13ore to my ear the airs of Patlestine,Not to the 1)oet, hut the man I l)ring In fricn(lshii)‘s fearless trust miy offering: Ho,\
much it lacks I feel,‘and thou wilt see, Yet well I kno\v that thou lhast (leeme(1 with me Life all too eiarnest, an(I its time too short For dreiamy ease md Fancy’s graceful sl)ort An(l (,ir(le(l for thy constant strife with wrong, Like Nehemniah fighting, wvhile he wrought The l)rokein walls of Zion, even thy song Hath a rudle mtartial tonle, a I)lo\v in every thought THE CYP’RESS-TREE OF CEYLON. [I.n I \TUTA. the ce!elratcd sslna traveller the f the fourteenth century, speaks of a cypress-tree iu Ceylon, uni ersa.lly held sacred lby the natives, the lea es of w lhich were stid to fall only at ertain intervals, and he who had the happiless to fihd and eat one of thetn ws restored, at once, to yotth atnd vigor.

T’he traveller sa, s e eral vener.able JOGEES. or sainlts, sittilng silelt and miotiouless under the trce, patiently aw aititg the falling of a leaf.] TIHEY sat in silent wvatchfulness The sacre(l cyl)l-ess-tree al)out, And(l, from l)eneathl ol( wrinklec( l)rows, Thleir failing-eyes looke(l out. Gray-Agre an(l Sickoness waiting there ‘V hr(vugh weary night anld litngering day,Griml as the i(lols at their si(le, An(l motionless as they. Unheede(l in the l)ouIghs al)ove The song of Cev lon’s bircls was sweet, Unseeni of them the island flowvers 13loolied t)rilghtly at their feet. O’er-then- thle trol)ic night-storm swel)t, The thlun(ler c-tashe(l on rock an(l hill; The clou(l-fire onl their eyel)alls l)lazerl, Yet there they \vaite(l still! \What was the worll xvithotit to them? The Moslem’s stunset-call, the (lance Of Celon’s mai(ls, the )assingl gleam Of )arttle-flag and lance? They waited( for that falling leaf ()f vhlich the \vwanliering Jog,ees sing,: \Vhich lefnds once mor-e to \viintry tage The greenness of its sl)ring. 258

Page 259 view page image

Tie C)Jpress-T-ee of Ce’i.l oi9. 0, if these poor and blind(le( ones In trustful patience wait to feel O’er torpid pulse and failing limb A youthful freshness steal; Shall we, wvho sit beneath that Tree \Whose healing leaves of life are slhed, In answer to the breath of p)rayer, Upon the waiting head; Not to restore our failing forms, And build the spirit’s broken shrine, But on the fainting SOUL to shed A light and life divine; Shall we grow weary in our watch, And murmur at the long delay? Impatient of our Father’s time And his appointed way? Or shall the stir of outward things Allure and claim the Christian’s eye, \Vhen on the heathen watcher’s ear Their powerless murmurs die? Alas! a deeper test of faith Than prison cell or martyr’s stake, The self-abasing watchfulness Of silent prayer may make. \Ve gird us bravely to rebuke Our erring brother in the wrong,And in the ear of Pride and Power Our warning voice is strong. Easier to smite with Peter’s sword Than “watch one hour” in humbling prayer. Life’s “great things,” like the Syrian lord, Our hearts can (do and dare. But oh! we shrink from Jorldan’s sid(le, Fromn waters which alone can save; And murmur for Abana’s banks And Pharpar’s brighter wave. 259

Page 260 view page image

260 Afisce//(lflc()uS. O Thou, who ill the garden’s shade Didst wake thy weary ones again, Who slumbered at that fearful hour Forgetful of thy pain; Bend o’er us now, as over them, And set our sleep-bound spirits free, Nor leave us slumbering in the watch Our souls should keep with Thee! A DREAM OF SUMMER. BLAND as the morning breath of June The southwest breezes play; Andl. through its haze, the winter noon Seems warm as sumlner’s clay. The snow-plulmed Angel of the North Has dropped his icy spear; Again the mossy earth looks forth, Again the streams gush clear.

The fox his hillside cell forsakes, The muskrat leaves his nook, The bluebird in the mea(lowxv brakes Is singing with the l)rook. “Bear up, O

Mother Nature!” cry Bird, breeze, and streamlet free; “Our winter voices prol)hesy Of summner days to thee!” So, in those winters of the soul, By bitter blasts and (Irear O’erswept from Memory’s frozen pole, Will sunny days appear. Reviving Hope and Faith, they show The soul its living powers, And how beneath the winter’s snow Lie germs of summer flowers! The Night is mother of the Day, The Winter of the Spring, And ever upon old Decay The greenest mosses cling. 26o Mi’scelltzi eous.

Page 261 view page image

A DREAM OF SUMMER, I

Page 262 view page image

f/[‘scclal, aolls. Behind the cloud the starlight luriks, Through showers the sunbeams fall; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all! 4/l s!/,on/th, x847. TO WNfllH A C()‘PY ()’ )F W,()()IMAN’S

JOURNAl,. “(;et the writings of John x,Voolman y heart.”-Fssat,sof]”ia.

MAIDEN! with the fair brown tresses Shading o’er thy dreamy eye, Floating on thy thoughtful forehedcl Cloud wreaths of its sky. Youthful y-ears and maiden beauty, Joy with them should still abide, Instinct take the place of Duty, Lose, not Reason, guidle. Ever in the New rejoicing, Kindly beckoning back the Old, Turning, with a I)ower like Midi(las, All things into gold. An(l the passing shades of sacdniess \Vearing even a welcomie guise, As, when some bright lake lies open To the sunny skies, Everywing of b)ird( albove it, Every light clou(I floating on, Glitters like that latshiing mirror In the self-same sun. But upon thy youthful forehead Something like a shadow lies; And a serious soul is looking From thy earnest eyes. \N\ith an early introversion, Through the forms of outward things, Seeking for the subtle essence, And the hidden springs. 262

Page 263 view page image

263 Deeper than the gille(l surface Hath thy wvakeful vision seen, Farther than the narrowv present Have thy journeyings been. Thou hast miclst Life’s eomt)ty n1Oises Heardl the solemln step)s of Time, Ancl the lowv my sterious voices Of another clime. All the mys.‘tcry of Being Hath upon thy spirit l)resse(l,lThoughts wvhich, like the I)elue wand(lerer, Fincl no place of rest: That which h 1) stic flalt()l )()n(lcre(l, That wlich Zen() hce,r(l with awXve, Anld the star-rlIt)t ZOl ()r(stcr In his night-vatch sl\. From the (Ioul)t and( (larkness spl)ring in’ Of the (lilo, uncCrt:IiI) I’ast, Moving’ to the (lalrk still shadow\ S O’er the Futore cast, Early hath ILifc’s mlig’hty (luecstion Thrille(l w\ithin thv heart of y o(nth, \ith a (lel) /a(l Str(l~lk l)eseeechink \WHAT:\N) WilHERE IX

TRtTrH? ItolloW crec(1 an(l crmonial, \‘hcnce the anc0 ienot life hIth tlc(1l, I(dle faith unll~now\ to( (‘tilll, I)ull1 an(l c(ol(l an,(l (lut’<(1. Oracles, whosc \ ire-\ wlrke(l IltleIiilk’S Only wa’(ke (

(lIict s o)l/, Not from thesc thy scLinl:’ sl)iirit Hath its answver (lraIwn. 1)ut, like some tirc(l chilhl,t e\ tn. On thy nmother Ntture’s t)Ireast, Thou, methinks, art \vlinlv seekin,(‘ Truth, and( 1)e (( e, a1(l rest. rTo

Page 264 view page image

2/f64 l’S’//lflI~VllS. O’er that mother’s rugged features Thou art throwing Fancy’s veil, Light and soft as woven moonbeams, Beautiful and frail! O’er the rough chart of Existence, Rocks of sin and wastes of woe, Soft airs breathe, and green leaves treml)le, And cool fountains flow. And to thee an answer cometh From the earth and from the sky, And to thee the hills and waters And the stars reply. But a soul-sufficing answer Hath no outward origin; More than Nature’s many voices May be heard within. Even as the great Augustine Questioned earth atnd sea and sky,40 And the dusty tomes of learning And old poesy. But his earnest spirit needed More than outward Nature taught,More than blest the poet’s vision Or the sage’s thought. Only in the gathered silence Of a calm and waiting frame ILight and wisdom as from Heaven To the seeker came. Not to ease and aimless quiet Doth that inward answer tend, But to works of love and duty As our being’s end, Not to idle dreams and trances, Length of face, and solemn tone, But to Faith, in daily striving And performance shown. 264

Page 265 view page image

rt ( Earnest toil and strong endeavor Of a spirit which within Wrestles with familiar evil And besetting sin; And without, with tireless vigor, Steadly heart, and weapl)on strong, In the )powver of truth assaili,ng Every form of wrong. Guilded thus, how passing lovxely Is the track of WVOOLMIAN’S feet! And his brief andi( simple record How serenely sweet!

O’er life’s humblest duties throwing Light the earthling never knew, Freshening all its (lark waste places As with Herinon’s dew. All which glows in I’ascal’s pages, All which sainted Guion sought, Or the blue-eyed German Rahel Half-unconscious taught: Beauty, such as Goethe pictured, Such as Shelley dreame(l of, shed Living warmth and starry brightness Round that poor man’s head. Not a vain and cold ideal, Not a poet’s dream alone, Blut a presence warm and real, Seen and felt and known. \When the red right hand of slaughter Mouldlers with the steel it swunig, \Then the name of seer and poet Dies on Memory’s tongue, All bright thoughts and pure shall gather Round that meek and suffering one,Glorious, like the seer-seen angel Standing in the sun! 265

Page 266 view page image

M26isccllancous. Take the good iman’s b)ook and ponder WVhat its pages say to thee,Blessed as the hand of healing Mlay its lesson be. If it only serves to strengthen Yearnings for a higher goo(l, For the fount of living waters Andi(I diviner food; If the pride of human reason Feels its meek an(l still rebuke, Quailing like the eye of Petel From the Just One’s look! If with readier ear thou hlee(lest WVhat the Inward( Teacher-saith, Listening with a w illing spirit .n( a chil(llike faith, Thou mayst live to l)less the giver, \Who himself b)ut frail and(l \veak, \Would at least the highest welfare Of another seek; An(i his gift, though poor an(i lowly It may seem to other eyes, Yet may prove an angel holy In a pilgrim’s guise. LEGCGETT’S M()N MlSNT. ” e ltill tie ti,lh s of the prophets.” lSb I’Jri. YES,-t)ile the iiai-l)lc o’cer-hit)! It is well That ye who mocke(l him in his long stern strife, And planted in the p)atl\hway of his life The ploughslhar-es of your hlatre(l hot from hell, \-ho cltiaore(l (lon the 1)ol( reforml-er when He l)leaded for his cal)ti\e C
fellow-Imten, 266

Page 267 view page image

leg,r,ctt’s,Ifoii I i iit. WVho spurned him in the market-p)lace, and sought Within thy walls, St. Tammany, to bind In party chains the free and honest thought, The angel utterance of an upright mind, Well is it now that o’er his grave ye raise The stony tribute of your tardy praise, For not alone that pile shall tell to Fame Of the brave heart beneath, but of the.builclers’ shame! 267

Page 268 view page image

SONGS OF LABOR, AND OTHER POEMS. DEDICATION. I WOULD the gift I offer here Might graces froim thy favor take, And, seen through Friecndshil)‘s atmosphere, On softened lines and coloring, wear The unaccustomed light of beauty, for thy sake. Fewxv leaves of Fancy’s spring remain: But \what I have I give to thee, The o’er-sunned bloom of summer’s plain, And pSaler flowvers, the latter rain Calls front the wvestering slope of life’s autumnal lea. Above the fallen groves of green, WVhere youth’s enchanted forest stood, I)ry root and mossdcl trunk, between, A sober after-growth is seen, As springs the pine where falls the gay-leafed maple wood! Yet birds will sing, and breezes play Their leaf-harps in the sombre tree; And through the l)leak andi wintry day It keeps its stealdy green alway,So, even my after-thloughts may have a chlarm for thee, Art’s perfect formns no moral need, And beauty is its owvn excuse;” B’ut for the dull and tlo\vcrless weed Some healing v’irtue still mIust plead, And the rough ore mIust tind its honors in its use.

Page 269 view page image

The Ship-Builders. 269 So haply these, my simple i ):;. lays Of homely toil, m ay i s erve to show The orchard bloom and tasselled maize YET

BIRDS WILL SING, AND BREEZES PLAY. That skirt and gladden duty’s ways, The unsung beauty hid life’s common things below. Haply from them the toiler, bent Above his forge or plough, may gain, A manlier spirit of content, And feel that life is wisest spent Where the strong working hand makes strong the work ing brain. The doom which to the guilty pair Without the walls of Eden came, Transforming sinless ease to care And rugged toil, no more shall bear The burden of old crime, or mark of primal shame. A blessing now, a curse no more; Since He, whose name we breathe with awe, The coarse mechanic vesture wore, A poor man toiling with the poor, In labor, as in prayer, fulfilling the same law. THE SHIP-BUILDERS. THE sky is ruddy in the east, The earth is gray below, And, spectral in the river-mist, The ship’s white timbers show. Then let the sounds of measured stroke And grating saw begin; The broad-axe to the gnarled oak, The mallet to the pin!

Page 270 view page image

270 Songs of Labor. Hark! roars the bellows, blast on blast, The sooty smithy jars, And fire-sparks, rising far and fast, Are fading with the stars. All day for us the smith shall stand Beside that flashing forge All day for us his heavy hand The groaning anvil scourge. HARK!-ROARS THE

BELLOWS, BLAST ON BLAST, THE SOOTY SMITHY JARS. From far-off hills, the panting team For us is toiling near; For us the raftsmen down the stream Their island barges steer. Rings out for us the axe-man’s stroke In forests old and still,For us the century-circled oak Falls crashing down his hill. Up! up! in nobler toil than ours No craftsmen bear a part: We make of Nature’s giant powers The slaves of human Art. Lay rib to rib and beam to beam, And drive the treenails free; Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam Shall tempt the searching sea!

Page 271 view page image

The S,lii5-2tildcris. \Where’er the keel of our good ship The sea’s rough field shall )lough,W\here’er her tossing spars shall dlri) \With salt-spray caught l)elo,That ship must heed her miaster’s beck, Her helm obey his hand(l, And seamen trealc her reelin, d(leck As if they tro(l the lan(l. Her oaken ril)s the \ulture-t)eak Of Northern ice mlay peel; The sunken rock ian(l corIl 1)eak May grate aloung her keel An(l knowv wve \ell the p)lintk(l shell \N’e g(ive to \in(l a1n(1 w\vt\e, Must float, the sailo-r’s citt(lel, Or sink, the sailor’s gra c! Ho! strike away the b)ars and blocks, And set the goo(l shiI) fre! Why lingiers on these (lusty roclks The young I)ri(le of the sea? Look! how she imoves adov the grooves, In graceful l)eauty now\! How lowvly on the l)reast she loves Sinks down her v irgin prow! God bless her! vwheresoe’er the breeze Her snowy wing, shall fan, Aside the frozen Hebrides, Or sultry Hindlostal!

X’here’er, in miart o0-o th-e imain, \Vith )eaceful flag unllfurle(l, She hell)s to \in(l the silken chain Of conmminerce r-ou!i(l the wvorl(!

Speed( on the shipl)!-But let her bear No merchand(lise of sin, No groaning cargo of despair Her roomy hol(l vithin; No Lethean drug for Eastern lands, Nor poison-(lraught for ours But honest fruits c,f toiling hands And Nature’s sun a(nd slhowvers. 27I -

Page 272 view page image

Songs of Labor. Be hers the Ilrairie’s golden grain, The Desert’s golden sand, The clustered fruits of sunny Spain, The sp)ice of Morning-landcl!

Her pathwaty on the open main MIay blessings follow free, And glad hearts vwelcome back again Her white sails fromn the sea! THE SHOEIMAKERS. Ho!

workers of the old time styled The Gentle Craft of Leather! Young brothers of the ancient guild, Stand forth once more together! Call out again your long array, In the olden merry manner! Once more, on gay St. Crispin’s day, Fling out your blazoned banner! Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Nowv shape the sole! now deftly curl The glossy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl WVhose gentle fingers bound it! For you, along the Spanish main A hundred keels are ploughing; For you, the Indian on the plain His lasso-coil is throwing; For you, deep glens with hemlock dark The woodman’s fire is lighting; For you, upon the oak’s gray bark, The woodman’s axe is smiting. For you, from Carolina’s pine The rosin-gum is stealing; tFor you, the d(lark-eyecl Florentine 4Her silken skein is reeling; For you, the (dizzy goat-her(l roams His rugged Alpine ledges; For you, round all her shepherd homes, Bloom England’s thorny hedges. 27:2

Page 273 view page image

I’he Shioemakers. The foremost still, by day or night, On nmoated mound or heather, Where’er the need of trampled right Brought toiling men together; Where the free burghers from the wall Defied the mail-clad master, Than yours, at Freedom’s trumpet-call, No craftsmen rallied faster. Let foplings sneer, let fools deride, Ye heed no idle scorner; Free hands and hearts are still your pride, And duty done, your honor. UPON THE WELL-WORN

STONE HOW FALLS THE POLISHED HAMMER. Ye dare to trust, for honest fame, The jury Time empanels, And leave to Truth each noble name Which glorifies your annals. Thy songs, Hans Sachs, are living yet, In strong and hearty German; And Bioomfield’s lay, and Gifford’s wit, And patriot fame of Sherman; Still from his book, a mystic seer, The soul of Behmen teaches, And England’s priestcraft shakes to hear Of Fox’s leathern breeches. 273

Page 274 view page image

Son,gs of Itzbor. The foot is yours; where’er it falls, It treads your well-vrought leather, On earthen floor, in marbl)le halls, On carpl)et, or on heather. Still there the sweetest charm is found Of mnatron grace or vestal’s, As Hel)e’s foot bore nectar round Among the old celestials! Rap, rap!-your stout and Ibluff )rogaln, \Vith footsteps slow and weary, May \vandler where the sky’s bl)ue sp)an Shuts cldowvn Uponl the l)rairie. On Ileauty’s foot y)ur slil)l)er’s glance, Bly Saratoga’s fountains, Or twinkle d(lown the sunliller (lance Beneath the Crystal Mountains! The red )brick to the mason’s hand(l, The )roxvwn earthl to the tiller’s, The shoe in )ours shall wvealthl commnand, Like fairy Cin(lder-ella’s! As they who shunnced the houschol(l miaid lehcldl the crown Ul)On her, So all shall see your toil rel)pai(l \With hearth and home and honor. Then let the toast be freely quaffed, In water cool an(l )rinmming, All honor to the good old Craft, Its merry men and womien!” Call out again your long array, In the old time’s l)leasant mannier Once more, on gay St. Crispini’s ta, Fling out his l)lazoie(I banner THE I)DROVERS. THROUGH heat and cold, and showver and sun, Still onward cheerly driving! There’s life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving. But see! the day is closing cool, The woo(Is are dim before us; The white fog of the waysi(de 1)ool Is creel)ing slowly o’er us. 274

Page 275 view page image

The Drovers. The night is fall ing, com rades mine, Our footsore beasts are weary, And through yon elms the tavern sign Looks out upon us cheery.

The landlord b e c k o n s from his door, H i s beechen fire is glow ing; STILL ONWARD CHRERLY DRIVING. These ample barns, with feed in store, Are filled to overflowing. From many a valley frowned across By brows of rugged mountains; From hillsides where, through spongy moss, Gush out the river fountains; From quiet farm-fields, green and low, And bright with blooming clover; From vales of corn the wandering crow No richer hovers over; Day after day our way has been, O’er many a hill and hollow; By lake and stream, by wood and glen, Our stately drove we follow. Through dust-clouds rising thick and dun, As smoke of battle o’er us, Their white horns glisten in the sun, Like plumes and crests before us. We see them slowly climb the hill, As slow behind it sinking; Or, thronging close, from roadside rill, Or sunny lakelet, drinking. 275

Page 276 view page image

So’on6s of labnor. Now crowding in the narrow road, In thick and(
struggling masses, They glare uponi tile teamster’s load, Or rattling coach that passes. Anon, with toss of horn an(l tail, An(l paw of hoof, an(l bellow, They leapl) some farm-er’s broken pale, O’er mea(lo\v-close or fallow. Forth comes the startled goo(iidman; forth Wife, chil(ldren, house-(Iog, sally, Till once more on their d(lusty path The baffled truants rally. We drive no starvelings, scraggy grown, Loose-legged, and ribbed and bony, Like those who grind their noses down On pastures b)are and stony, Lank oxen, rough as Indian dogs, And cows too lean for shadows, Disputing feebly with the frogs The crop of sawv-grass mea(dowvs! In our good drove, so sleek an(l fair, No bones of leanness rattle; No tottering hidle-bound( ghosts are there, Or Pharaoh’s evil cattle. Each stately beeve bespeaks the hand That fed him unrepining; The fatness of a goodly land In each dun hide is shining. We’ve sought them where, in warmest nooks, The freshest feed is growing, By sweetest springs and clearest b)rooks Through honeysuckle flowing; Wherever hillsides, sloping south, Are bright with early grasses, Or, tracking green the lowland’s drouth, The mountain streamlet passes. But now the day is closing cool, The woods are dim before us, The white fog of the wayside pool Is creeping slowly o’er us. 2 76

Page 277 view page image

TZ’e Fisther imen. The cricket to the frog’s bassoon His shrillest time is keeping; The sickle of yon setting mioonI The meadow-mist is reaping. The night is falling, comrades mine, Our footsore beasts are weary, And through yon elmis the tavern sign Looks out ul)on us cheery. To-morrow, eastward with our charge We‘11 go to meet the dlawning, Ere yet the pinties of Kearsarge Have seen the sun of morning. When snowv-flakes o’er the frozen earth, Instead of birds, are flitting; When children throng the glowing hearth, And quiet wvives are knitting; While in the firelight strong and clear Young eyes of pleasure glisten, To tales of all we see and hear The ears of home shall listen. IBy many a Northern lake and hill, From many a mountain pasture, Shall Fancy play the Drover still, And speed the long night faster. Then let us on, through shower and sun, And heat and cold, be driving; There’s life alone in duty done, And rest alone in striving. THE FISHERMEN. HURRAH! the seaward breezes Sweep down the bay amain; Heave up, my lads, the anchor! Run up the sail again! Leave to the lubber landsmen The rail-car and the steed; The stars of heaven shall guide us, The breath of heaven shall speed. From the hill-top looks the steeple, And the lighthouse from the sand; And the scattered pines are waving Their farewell from the land. 277

Page 278 view page image

278 Songs of labor. One glance, my lads, behind us, For the homes we leave one sigh, Ere we take the change and chances Of the ocean and the sky.

WHERE IN MIST THE ROCK IS HIDING, AND THE SHARP REEF LURKS BELOW. Now, brothers, for the icebergs Of frozen Labrador, Floating spectral in the moonshine, Along the low, black shore! Where like snow the gannet’s feathers On Brador’s rocks are shed, And the noisy murr are flying, Like black scuds, overhead; Where in mist the rock is hiding, And the sharp reef lurks below, And the white squall smites in summer, And the autumn tempests blow; Where, through gray and rolling vapor, From evening unto morn, A thousand boats are hailing, Horn answering unto horn.

Page 279 view page image

Tfe ih-Iii,‘er,,e. Hurrah! for the Red(I Islalnd, \Vith the white cross on its crowvn! Hurrah! for Meccatina, Andcl its mnountains bare acnd brown!

\Vhere the Caribou’s tall antlers O’er the xdwarf-wood freely toss, And the footstep) of the Alickikmack Has no sot(d ui tl)On the iloss. There we‘11 drop our liies, an(I -atiler Old Ocean’s treasurL-Cs illn, \Vhere’er the mottle(l mackeriel Turns ul) a steel-dar-k fin. The sea’s our fieldI of harvest, Its scaly trib)es our grain; \Ve‘11 reapl) the teeming waters As at home they reap the plain! Our wet hainds splreadl the car-l)et, And light the hearth of homle; From our fish, as in the old timie, The silver coin shall comie. As the (lelnoll fled the chambl)er NVhere the fish of TFo)it lay, So) oursIS from all otur dw\ellings Shall frighten \?ant avay Thoughi the mist u)onll our jackets InI the bitter air-conlgealls, And oIur lines wiind stiff and slow\ly From off the frozen reels; Though the fog l)e dlark arountld us, And the sto’rnl blo\v high andcl loud, We will whistle dlown the wild wind, And laugh beneath the cloud! In the darkness as in daylight, On the water as on land, God’s eye is looking on us, And beneath us is his hand! Death will find us soon or later, On the deck or in the cot And we cannot meet him better Than in working out our lot. 2 79

Page 280 view page image

Songsi of I l,bor. Hurrah!-hurrah l!-the \vest-\vind Comes fresheningi do\
n the bay, The rising sails are filling, Give \vay, my lad(s, give vay!

Lea\e the co\vard( la(lndsma clilnc ging To the (lull earth, like a wee(l,  The stiars of hlc\en shlall gti(le us, Thle breathi of hlea\ e shltl sl)ee(l! THE IHUSI\E<lS. IT vas late in mild Octoler, and( the loing autumnal rain Had left the summier har\rvest-fiel(s ill green \ith grass again; The first sharp) frosts ha(l fallen, leavilng all the woodlands gay WTith the hues of sumnier-‘s r~IiIbl)o, or the mea(lo\v-flowvers o) NMay.

Through a thin, dclry mist, that morlning, the sun rose broad and red, At first a ra-less (lisk of fire, hie hrighteled as he sped; Yet, evene his noonti(le g,lory fell chastened an(l sul)(Itued, On the cornfields aln(l the orclhard-(s, and( softly l)icttric(l woo(l. And all that quiet afterlnooln, slo- slol)il,- to the night, He wo-e \vith gol(Itci shuttle the lha7ze wvitlh vell()\ light;, Slantilng through the l)ainte(l I)ceclhes, he glo)rifie(l the hill; And, )beneathl it, 1)(0 (11 ad(I mieedl(ow Iy )irighter-, grteene still. And shouting, l)o-s in \voodlalnd hautlnts caught glillnl)ses of that sky, Fleckeld b)y the many-tinted(
lea-es, (I laugheld, they kie\v nlot hy’ AIl(d school-girls, ga) \ith atster-fl()\vers, l)esid(le the lead(lo\v 1)rlooks, Mingled( the glov of aItUItuIm vith the sunshine of s\weet looks. From splire and )arln looke(l \esterly the 1)atient \veatlhercocks; l3ut even the )irclhes onl the hill stoodl moti()nless as rocks. No soun(l \-as in the \oo(llald(s, sa\e the s(lui-rrcl’s drol)l)ilng shlell, And the -ello\ leaves aI1mo1ng the 1)olIghIs, Ih)\v rustling as tihe fell. The summer graii s \.ere hlar\este(l; the stuI)le-lfield(s lav drv, \V’here June \inds rolled, in light and shade, the I)ale green waves of rye; 280

Page 281 view page image

The Buskers. But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with wood, Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop stood. Bent low, by autumn’s wind and rain, through husks that, dry and sere, Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow ear; Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant fold, And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin’s sphere of gold. AND LAUGHING EYES AND BUSY HANDS AND BROWN

CHEEKS GLIMMERING O’ER. There wrought the busy harvesters; and many a creaking wain Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and grain; Till broad and red, as when he rose, the sun sank down, at last, And like a merry guest’s farewell, the day in brightness passed. And lo!

as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, and pond, Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond, Slowly o’er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone, And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one! 281 I

Page 282 view page image

SVolI,,s of Labor. As thus into the (quiet night the t\ilight lal)se(l a\vay, An(d d(Ieep)er in the l)rigihtening mi ioon the tran(luil shta(lo\vs lay; Froni Iman a l)ro\.n old fartu-house, a(nd hlitmlet \
ithout name, Their milkii,ng an(l their lhomie-tasks (lone, the mierry huskers came. S\ungI, o’er the lheal)e(l-ul) hi-rvc-st, from i )itchlfo-rks inll tile lmo\v, Shone (limly (l\n the laiiterns (in the 1
l)leasirt scene bhelo\; fThe gro\in,- )ile of hulsks l)chinl(l, thile g(llen trs l)efore, An(l laughing eyes ni(l I)usLy h1i)m(ls ind(l )r-o\n clheeks (,liimmer il(g o’er. Half hi(l(lei in a quiet nook, serene of look aiiil heairt, Talkiiing their ol( timies oxer, the ol( illt l stt ail)art; \NVhile, up) an(I (lo\-n the unhiluske(l pile, )r nestling in its sha(le, At hi(le -and(-seek, w\ith laug,h a(nd shout, the hal)py chil(Iren playe(ld. UJrged by the good( host’s (laughter, a mai(lden young an(l fair, Lifting to light helr s\ecet l)lue eyes ani(l p)ride of soft brown hair, The master of the villige school, sleek of haitr an(I smo(oth of toingue, To the quaint tune of some ol( p)salm, a huskini’,-l),tlll sung.

THE CORN-SONG. HEFAP high the farmier’s \intry hotr(l! Heal) high the gol(len corn! No richer gift hlas Autumn pl)oure(l Froim out her lavish horn! Let other lan(ls, exulting-, gleian The apple fronm the pine, The orange from its glossy green, The cluster from the vine; We better love the hardy gift Our rugged vales bestovw, To cheer us when the storm shall (Irift Our harvest-fields with snow. Through vales of grass andi mea(ls of flowvers, Our ploughs their furrows madle, While on the hills the sun and showers Of changeful April played. 282

Page 283 view page image

The CornSong. We dropped the seed o’er hill and plain, Beneath the sun of May, And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away. All through the long, bright days of June Its leaves grew green and fair, And waved in hot midsummer’s noon Its soft and yellow hair. GIVE US THE BOWL

OF SAMP AND MILK, BY HOMESPUN BEAUTY POURED. And now, with autumn’s moonlit eves, Its harvest-time has come, We pluck away the frosted leaves, And bear the treasure home. There, where the snows about us drift, And winter winds are cold, Fair hands the broken grain shall sift, And knead its meal of gold, 283

Page 284 view page image

284 Songs of f(1bor.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Let vapid idlers loll in silk Around their costly board; Give us the bowl of samp and milk, By homiesp)un beauty poured! \Where’er the wid(le old kitchen hearth Sends upl) its smoky curls, Who will not thank the kindly earth, And bless our fi-armer girls! Then shamne on all the proud anlI vtin, \Whose folly laughs to scorn The blessing of our har(ly grain, Our wvealth of golden corn! Let earth withhold her goodly root, Let milldewxv blight the rye, Giv-e to the xvorm the orchar(l’s fruit, The wvheat-fieldcl to the fly: But let the good old crop adorn The hills our fathers trod(; Still let us, for His gol(len corn, Send up out’ thlanks to God! THE LUMBERMEN. \VILDLY
round our woodland quarters, Sad-voiced Autumn grieves; Thickly down these swelling wNaters Float his fallen leaves. Through the tall and naked timber, Column-like and old, Gleam the sunsets of November, From their skies of gold. O’er us, to the southland heading, Screams the gray wildl-goose; On the night-frost soundis the trea(ling Of the brind(le(d moose. Noiseless creeping, while we’re sleep)ing, Frost his task-wxork plies; Soon, his icy bridges heal)ing, Shall our log-piles rise. 284 Songs t labor.

Page 285 view page image

-~~~- O0 0 ~ o i n 7:5 I r ~~~~I 0 0 - I*- C  C  bc 0 V - C  V 0

V 0 00 7:5 - 7 V._ - - 0A C, J_ V V E VsXo Bf z _- V V P C  ID

VV Vp - C  - * OV 0 p - - p bID 0 V V J V V C - 0V0 V0 j; V V V p V V -

- V 0

Page 286 view page image

AND THE FOREST FCHOES CLEARLIY ALL OUR BLOWS REPEAT.

Page 287 view page image

Twie’ Iuiziibcirmicn. Make we here our camp) of winter; And, through sleet and snow, Pitchy knot and beechen splinter On our hearth shall glovw.

Here, with mirth to lighten duty, \We shall lack alone WoImani’s smile and girlhoo(l’s l)eauty. Chiltlhoo(‘s lisping tonie. But their hearth is b)righter )urning For our toil to-dlay; And the welcome of returning Shall our loss repay, When, like seaimen from the waters, FromI the woo(ls ve Coiome, Greeting sisters, wives, ani( (laughters, Angels of our home Not for us the measured ringing From the v illage spire, Not for us the Sat)l)ath singiing Of the swveet-voiced choir Ours the old, majestic temple, Where Godl’s brightness shines )Do\win the dome so grand( and ample, Propped t)y lofty pines! Through each l)ranch-enwoven skylight, Speiks He il the )reeze, As of old )eneathl the twvilight Of lost Eden’s trees! For his ear, the inward feeling Needs no out\ar(l tongue; He can see the sl)irit kneeling \Vhile the axe is swunIg. Heeding truth alone, an(l turning From the false and (lim, Lamp of toil or altar t)urning Are alike to Him. Strike, then, comrades! Trad(le is waiting On our ruggedl toil; Far shii)s \waiting for the freighting Of our \oo(dlan(l spl)oil! 2

F, 7

Page 288 view page image

Sooigs of lbar. Ships, whose traffic links these highlamds, Bleak an(l cold, of ours, \W~ith the citron-plante(l islan(ls Of a clime of flowers; To our frosts the tril)ute l)rinlging Of eternal heats; In our lal) of winter flinging Tropic fruits anld sweets. Cheerly, on the axe of lathor, Let thle sunbl)eans (lance, Better than the fiash of sabl)re Or the gleami) of lance! Strike’ \With every l)lowv is given Freer sun and sky, An(l tlhe long-hid earth to heiven Looks, with wVond(ering’ eye! Lou(I l)ehin(l us g,ro\v the murmurs Of the age to COllie; Clangl> of smliths, in(l trea(l of failrners, Bearing harv est home! Here her\ virgin lap wvith trcasusti(. Shall the green earth till; \ iin\ wheat ad (1g ol(en llnliize-ears Cio\wn ach beechen hill. Kseel) \vho wvill the city’s alleys, ‘Fake the smooth-shorn l)lainn,(Give to us the cedar valleys, R\o ks an(l hills of ailne! In our North-laid(l, \vil(l an(l \voo(ly, Let us still haive part: Rugg( ed nurse an(l mothcr stur(ly, Hold us to tlhy heart! O, our free hearts l)eat the wvarnmer For th\ l)reath of snow; An(I our trea(l is ill the. tinnler For thy rocl:s l)el(). Freedlom, han(l in h1in(l hvith lal)or, \Valketh strong in(l l)r e; On the forehiea(l of his neighlt)(r No man \vriteth Sla e! z88 __

Page 289 view page image

T/he ILuniberlnen. 28 Lo, the day breaks! old Katahdin’s Pine-trees show its fires, While from these dim forest gardens Rise their blackened spires. Up, my comnrades! up and doing! Manhood’s rugged play Still renewing, bravely hewing Through the world our way! 289

Page 290 view page image

MISCELLANEOUS. THE ANGELIS OF BUENA VISTA. SPEAK and tell us, our Ximenai, looking northward far away, O’er the camp) of the invadlers, o’er the Mexican array, -ho is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they near? Look abroad, and tell us, sister, w-hithler rolls the storm we hear.

” I)on the hills of Angostura still the stormn of battle rolls; 1ll()o(l is flowing, men are (lying; God have mercy on their souls!” \Vho is losing? w ho is winning?-” Over hill and over plain, 1 see but smoke of cannlon clou(ling through the mountain rain.” Holy MIother! keep our brothers! Look, Xiimena, look once mFIore. Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as b)efore, 3earing on, in strange confusion, frien(l and(l foemaln, foot an(l horse, Like some -ildl and(l troul)Ie(l torrent sweel)ing down its imotln tamii Course.” l1ook forth once mOIreC, Ximiein! Ah! the smioke hls rolle(l And I see the Northern rifles g(leCIal n’ (lo\)w the ranks of graty. ilark! that suL(l(len lblast of l)u’les!

there the trool) of Minon w-heels ‘Ihere the Northern horses thund(ler, with the cannonioii at their heels. Jesu, pity! how it thickens! nowv retreat and Ino\ advance! Right against the l)lazing l ncanlon shivers l’uel)la’s charging lance! Down they go, the 1)1-ave )ounig rIi(lers; horse anm(l foot together fall; Like a ploughshare in the fillow, tlhrol)u,-lh them 1)lou,ghs the Northern )all.”

Page 291 view page image

.Tie A4ncls of UBlici( Vista. Nearer caie the storin and( nearer, rolliing, fast an(i frightful on! Speak, Ximenia, spl)eak aind tell us, \ho has lost, iand whio has \Oln? Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe tog,ether fall, O’er the d1 img rush the living: p)ray, my sisters, for themi all Lo! the \wi(d the smioke is liftin,: B lessed Mother, s~l t’ my b)rain! I cain see the \otun(le(l( c-raw\liing slo\l,\ ouIt fron he]lti)s of slain. No\ they stag,-(er, l)lin(l mci l)leed(Iil’,- now they facll, ain(l stl-ri\e to rise Hlasten, sisters, haste and( save them, lest the) dit be)fore our e es! 0 my heart’s love! O my (ldear onle! lay thy p)oor head(l on my knee: Dost thiou kinow the lipl)s that kiss thee? Cainst thou hear Ime? canst thou see? O my husband, brave a(nd geutle! O my lJernial, look once more ()ii the bl)esse(l cross before thee! Mercy! mercy! all is o’cr!” I)ry thy tears, imy poor Ximenea; lay thy dear one down to rest; Let his hands be Imeeki) folded, lay the cross upon his b)reast Let his dclirge lbe sung( hereafter, and lhis funeral imasses said ‘To-day, thlou poor bereavcl one, the li\ing ask thy aid. Close beside her, faintly i moaning,, fair alI( young, a soldier lay, ‘I’orii with shot ai(l pierced w\ith lances, l)lee(ling slow lhis life a\vav; lItlt, as teni(lerl-before himi the lorn Ximena knelt, She saw the Northern eagle slhininig on his pistol-bl)elt. \N’ith a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head \‘ith a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her dlead; B~ut she heard t he youth’s low moaning, and his struggling breath of pain, And she raised the cooling water to his parching lips again. WVhispered low the dying soldier. pressed her hand and faintly smiled: \as that pitying face his mother’s? (lid she watch beside her child? All his stranger words with meaning her woman’s heart sup plied; \With her kiss upon his forehead, “Mother!” murmured he, and died! 291

Page 292 view page image

Miscella/neous. 292 “A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee forth, From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weeping, lonely, in the North!”

Spake the mournful Mexic woman, as she laid him with her dead, And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds which bled. Look forth once more, Ximnena! “Like a cloud before the wind Rolls the battle (down the mountains, leaving blood and death behind; Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the wounded strive; Hide your faces, holy angels! 0
thou Christ of God, forgive!” AND SHE RAISED THE COOLING WATER TO HIS

PARCHING LIPS AGAIN. Sink, 0 Night, among thy mountains; let the cool, gray shad ows fall; Dying brothers, fighting demons, drop thy curtain over all! Through the thickening winter twilight, wide apart the battle rolled, In its sheath the sabre rested, and the cannon’s lips grew cold. But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn and faint and lacking food.

Page 293 view page image

B-air-tl’ of U)’. I Over eaik anid suLfferi,ng )i-otlher-s, witlh t teti(ler cri c they l hulng, An(l the (Iying foemani blessed theml iI a straige and( Nortlhern tonglue. No)t \wholly lost, 0 Fatherl-! is this ev il wvorl(l of ()irs t Tard(l tlhrot(,ghl its 1)1()0(1 an(l aslhes, sl)ril,- ifreshl thle IE(lden flo-ersl-; l’riim its sm()kini,- hell of 1)little, Ioove and(l I)‘it sen(l thei-1)rayer, Ain(l still thyl vhite-vin ie gel ls hlo\el (lilimly ill ou-r air! FOIR(; I VENI’SS. MI~ heart was heavy, for its trust ha(l b)een Ablusedl, its kind(lness answvered with foul wrong; So, turning gloomily from my fello\v-men, One summer Sal)athl d(lay I strolled among The green mounds of the v illage I)urial-l)lace; \N’here, I)poicnderiting ho\v all human love an(l hate Find one sad level; and ho\, soonI or late, W\roniged and \rong(loer, each \ith meekene(l face, And cold hands folded( over a still heart, Pass the green threshold of our common grave, \‘hither all footstep)s ted(l, henice none d(el)art, A\ed( for myself, and( pitying my raice, Our common sorro\-, like a migihty \ Ce, S\ept all my p)ride awnay, and tremblinig I forgave BARCLAY OF UR’Y. 4 UP the streets of AI)erdeen, By the kirk a(nd college green, Rodle the Laird of Ury; Ciose b)ehind himi, close l)esi(le, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, Pressed( the mob in fury. Floute(l himn the (Id-uniken churl, Jeered( at himii the sering-girl, PIroimpl)t to p)leaise liher maister; An(l the )eggiing carlin, late Fed aindcl clothe(l at Ury’s gate. Cursed himi as he passed lher. 293

Page 294 view page image

-ziscel/aneous. Yet, withl calmi an(I stately mien, Up) the streets of \bei-d(eetn Came he slo\vly ri(dinlg: Andl, to all he sawv and hearld, Ans\vering not -vith bitter wvor(l, Turning not for chi(ling. Came a trool) \with l)roads\vor(ls s\w-ing,ing, B)its ad t)ri(llt’s sharI)ly rin,ging, ILoose ta(1 fr-ee a(1I fro\wr(l’ (uotth the foremiost, “Riidc him (1co\vn! Push him! 1)ri( ck him! through the towln D)riv-e the (2uaker covar(!” IBut from out the thickening crowvd Criedl a sut(lden v oice and(
lou(l: Iar cla! Ho! a B3arclay!” And the ol0( mlan at his si(lde Sawv a comira(le, b)attle trie(l, Scarre(l and sunburned( (larkly; \Vho \vith ready- \e l)ol bhare, Frontiing to the tr()ol)ers tlhere, Cried( alou(: (;(od savxe us, Caill ec co\NAI(l hi \vhlo stoo(l AnIkle dlee) in Lutzen’s 1)1oo(1, \NVith thle 1)1a e (L;usttLS?” “Na y, I (do not nee(l thy s\or(l, Coiniad(le miine,” said Ur-‘s lor(d; “P Iut it 01), 1 pr)-y thlee: IPassive to his hol- \vill, T’rust I in mn MIaster still, Even though hle slay i)e. “Pledges of thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death, Not by me are needed.” Marvelled much that henchman bold, That his lai-rd, so stout of old, No\v so meekly pleadcle(l. ” \Woe’s the day!” he sadly said, With a slowly shaking head, And a look of pity; 294

Page 295 view page image

Bar r-l’t of Ul-,. “Ury‘“s honest lord reviled, Mock of knave and sport of chil(l, In his own good city! “Speak the word, and, master mine, As we charged on Tilly’s line, And his WValloon lancers, Smiting through their nmi(lst \we‘11 teach Civil look and decent spceech To these l)oyish p)rancers!” “Marvel not, mine ancient friend, Like beginning, liike the cn(l: ” Quloth the Lair(l of Ury, “Is the sinful servant more Than his gracious Lor(l who bore Bonds and stripes in Je\vry? “Give me joy that in his name I can bear, with patient frame, All these vain ones offer; \Vhile for them He sufferethl long, Shall I answer wrong with wrong, Scoffing with the scoffer? “Happier I, withl loss of all, Hunted, outlawe(l, held in thrall, \Vith few friends to greet me, Than when reeve and squire were seen, Riding out from Aberdeen, With bared headls to meet me. “W hen each goodwife, o’er and o’er, Blessed me as I passed her door; And the snoo(le(1 daughter, Through her casement glancing down, Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter. “Hard to feel the stranger’s scoff, Hard the old friend’s falling off, Hard to learn forgiving: But the Lord his owln reward(s, And his love with theirs accords, Warm and fresh an(l living. 295

Page 296 view page image

296 Mzsce/Aineaus.~~~~~~~~~~~- “‘FThlrough this (lark an(i stormy night Faith l)ehol(s a feel)le lig,ht Up the l)lackness streaking; Knowving Go(l’s O\Viw time is l)est, In a p)atient hopl)e I rest For the full (It-l)reaking!” So thle I.air-(l of Ut - said, Turninig slow\ his hor-se’s hea(l(l TO\var-(ls the’Ioll)ooth pl)Iison, WVhere, through iron grates, he lhear Poor (liscil)les of the \NTor(l IPreach of Christ irisen! Not in vain, ConIfessor 0((1, Unto us the tale is tol(l Of thy (lay of trial; Every age on him, \ho strays From its broacl an(l l)eaten wvays, Pours its seveinf()l( vial. Happl)y he vwhose inwvar(l eatr Ang,el comforting,s can, hear, O’er-the rahble’s luitghter; An(d vhile Hatre(l’s fag(,ots l)urln, (;liilmpses throuLgh the smokec (liscern Of the goodcl hereafter.

Knoving this, that neve-r et Share of Truth Nvas vainily set In the w-orl(l’s wi(le fallowv; After hand(s shall sow the see(l, After hands fromi hill an(l meat( Reap the harvests yellow. Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, Must the moral p)ioneer From the Future l)orro\; Clothe the wvaste with (Ireams of grain, And(l, on midnighlt’s sky of rain, Paint the golden morrow! 296 Ali’scelltzii,eou.t.

Page 297 view page image

W,at the Voice Said. WHAT THE VOICE SAIl). MADDENED hy Earth’s wrong and evil, “Lord!” I cried in sudden ire, “From thy right hand, clothed with thunder, Shake the )olted( fire! Love is lost, and Faith is (lying; \ith the l)rutc the Imant is sol(l; An(l the (lrol)l)ing T)loo(l of lal)or Hardens into gol(l. Here the dying wail of Famine, There the bl)attle’s groan of pain; An(l, in silence, smooth-face(l Mainmon Reaping men like grain. ”’ WVhere is Go(l, that we should fear Him?’ Thus the eartlh-)orn Titans say; ‘God! if thou art living, hear us!’ Thus the weak ones pray.”

“Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding,” Spake a solemn Voice within; “

\Weary of our Lord(‘s forbearance, Art thou free from sitl? “Fearless brow to Him uplifting, Canst thou for his thun(lers call, Knowing thlat to guilt’s attraction Evermore they fall? “Know’st thou not all germs of ev il In thy heart await their time? Not thyself, b)ut Godcl’s restraining, Stays their growth of crime. “Couldst thou b)oast, O child of weakness!

O’er the sons of wrong and strife, Were their strong temptations planted In thy path of life? “Thou hast seen two streamlets gushing From one fountain, clear and( free, But by wid(lely varying channels Searching for the sea. 297

Page 298 view page image

29g Gli(leth one through greenest valleys, Kissing them \vith lips still sweet; One, ma(l roaring (lo\‘n the mountains, Stagnates at their feet.

“Is it choice A\herel)y the Parsee Knleels )efore his mnother’s fire? In his l)lack tent (li(l the Tar-tar Choose his \wan(lering silc? ” He alone, whose lhan(l is houn(liing Hunman power an(l a huI1maI n still, Looking tihrlou gh ecl soul’s s urr()un(li, Knows its good or ill. “For thyself, while wrong andi sorrowv Make to thee their strong appeal, Coward wxert thou not to utter WVhat the heart must feel. “Earnest wordls inust needs he Sl)okeni WVhen the warm heart bleed(s or l)urns With its scorn of wrong. or pity For the wrongedl, b)y turns. “But, T)y all thy nature’s weakness, Hi(dden faults and( follies known, Be thou, in rebl)uking evil, Conscious of thine own. “Not the less shall stern-eyed Duty To thy lips her trumpet set, But faith harsher l)lasts shall miingle WVailings of regret.” Cease not, Voice of holy speaking, Teacher sent of (;o(l, )e near, W\hispl)ering through the day’s cool silence Let my spirit hear! So, wvhen thoughts of evxil-doers \Vaken scorn, or hatred( move, Shall a moutrnful fellow-feeling Temii.per ail wbith love. i,ti,ct,lltl ll(,ol S.

Page 299 view page image

ftvs/ti-shI. TFO I)ELIA\VARIE. [\Vritten during the discussion, in the l,egisl.tLre of that State, in the winter of I846-47, of a hill for the abolitiot, of slavery. THRICE welcome to thy sisters of the East, To the strong tillers of a rugge(l home, \Vith sl)ra wet locks to Northern winds released, And hardy feet o’ers\ epl)t I)y ocean’s foamll; And to the -ounig 0iii)lmhs of the golclen iWest, \Whose harv est mantles, fringed vith prairie bloom, Trail in the sunset,-O redeemed and blest, To the warim welcomie of thn sisters come Broad Pens,-ls-yania, do\n her sail-white bay Shall give thee joy, and Jersey from her plains, An(l the great lakes, where echoes, free alway, MIoaned ne -er shore\vard( with the clank of chains, Shall \eave new sun-)bows in their tossing spray, An(l all their waves keel) grateful holid(lay. And, smiling on thee through her mountain rains, V’ermont shall l)lcss thee and the Granite peaks, And -ast Katahdin o’er his woods, slhall wear Their snow-crow\ns brighter in the cold keen air; And MIassachusetts, with her ruggel cheeks O’errun with grateful tears, shall turn to thee, VWhen, at thy bidding,, the electric wire Shall tremble northward with its words of fire Glory and praise to God! another State is free! \VORSHIP. ‘ Pure religion, and tndefiled, lefore God an.I the Father is this: To visit the widows and the fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted fromr the worlnd.”- f, cs i. 27. TH F Pagan’s myths through marble lips are spoken AnI( ghosts of old Beliefs still flit antd motan Round( fane antd altar overthro%wn and(
broken, O’er tree-grown t)arrowv and gray ring of stone, 1llin(1 Faith had miarty rs in those old high places, The S-rian hill grove an(l the Druid’s wood, With mother-‘s offering to the Fieind’s embiraces, Bone of their bone, andcl blood of their ownI blood. Red altars, kindlling through that night of error, Smokecd ith warm bloodl beneath the cruel eye Of la\-less lPower an(l sanguinatrv’ferror, Throned onl the circle ot a p)itiless sky; 299

Page 300 view page image

300 Beneath vlwhose baleful sha(lowv, overcasting All heaveni al)ove, and l)lighting earth l)elow, The scourge grew re(, the lip) g-re\v pale with fasting, And man’s oblation wxas his fear and \oe! Then through great templ)les swvelle(l the dismal moaning Of dlirge-like music and(l sel)ulchral I)prayer; Pale wvizard priests, o’er occult symbols (Ironing, Swung their white censeIrs in the l)ur(lene(d air: As if the pomp of rituals, a(nd the savor Of gumns an(l s)pices coul( the Unseen One please; As if his ear could bend(l, with childish favor, To the poor flattery of the organ keys! Feet red fromi war-field(s trod the church aisles holy, With trembling reverence: an(l the oppressor there, Kneeling before his priest, abased and lowly, Crushed human hearts beneath his knee of prayer.

Not such the service the benignant Father Requireth at his earthly children’s hands: Not the poor offering of vain rites, but rather The simple dluty man from man demands. For Earth he asks it: the full joy of Heaven Knowveth no change of waning or increase; The great heart of the Infinite beats even, Untroubled flowvs the river of his peace. He asks no taper lights, on high surrounding ‘FThie priestly altar an(I the saintly griave, No (Iolorous chant nor organ Imusic sounIdilng, Nor incense clouding ul) the twilight nave. For he wNhomI Jesus loved bath truly spoken: T’he holier \worshipl) \hich he (leigis to l)less Restores the lost, aIn(l )in(ls the spl)irit l)roken, Andi feeds the widowv and the fatherless! Types of our human weakness and( our sorrow! \Vlho lives unhaulte(l l)y his loved ones (det(l? WVho, with vaini longing, seeketh not to l)orro\v FroIn strianger eyes the lhome li-ghts which lhave fled?

-Zjfisctl,llti /I t,oil S.

Page 301 view page image

30I ) t)rother mam! fol(d to th) heairt thy 1)r()thcr’ \‘here )ity (ldwclls, the p)eace of (;o(l is thlere’ To \orshit) irightly is to love eah other, Each smile at h)‘xmu, each kindly (lee( a p)rayer. Follo\v \
ith rev erent steps the great exlmI)le Of Him \ hose holy \work \was (loingg oo(;” So shall the \wile earth seem our Father’s temple, Each loving life a psalm of griatitu(le. Then shall all shac klcs fall; the stormy clangor ()f \wil wvar music o)‘cr the earth shall cease; Love shall trea(l out the l)alefol tre of mngcr, And ill its ashes!)lant the trce of peace! THE I)E5I()N OF TIle S’iUI)Y. THE IBro\wnie sits in the Scotchman’s room, And eats his meat and dirinks his dle, An(l heats the maid \ ith her unuse(l t)room, And( the lary lout with his i(lle flail, But he sw\eeps the floor an(l thrcshes the cornl, And hies himi aw\a ere the l)reak of dawvn. The sha(le of I)enmark flc(l from the sun, And the Cocklane ghost from tlhe l)am-loft cheer, The fien(I of Faust \wajs a faithful one, Agril)l)a’s demon \ rought in fear, And the (le\ il of MIartin Luther sat By the stout monk’s si(le in socidl chat. T’Ihc Old MIan of the Sea, on the neck of him \Vho senen tinics clrosse(l the (ltel), T\iined(l closely each lem an(l \n itheiredl lilml), Like the nig,‘htm are in one’s slee). IBut he (drank of the \wime, cIl a Sind(ll)l cast The evil \w eight frolm his t)ack at latst. But the (lem(on thact cometh (laiy l)\ (ldy ‘1’o myI\ quiet rholl (d firisidei(lci ook, \Where the casement lig-ht falls (lima and gray ()i) fa(le(l p)intiint an(l anI cient 1t)()0k, Is a sorrier ()ne t lhin ay \whose names Are chrio icled \ell i Iy \ oo(l IKing Jallcs. Thew Dcmb,,1,,f /het.qtll(/I’.

Page 302 view page image

Miscellazeous. No bearer of burdens like Caliban, No runner of errands like Ariel, He comes in the shape of a fat old man, Without rap of knuckle or pull of bell; And whence he comes, or whither he goes, I know as I do of the wind which blows. A stout old man with a greasy hat Slouched heavily down to his dark, red nose, And two gray eyes enveloped in fat, Looking through glasses with iron bows. Read ye, and heed ye, and ye who can, Guard well your doors from that old man! AND HE WIPES HIS GLASSES AND

CLEARS HIS THROAT. He comes with a careless “How d’ye do?” And seats himself in my el bow-chair; And my morning paper and pamphlet new Fall forthwith under his special care, And he wipes his glasses and clears his throat, And, button by button, unfolds his coat. And then he reads from paper and book, In alow and husky asthmatic tone, With the stolid sameness of posture and look Of one who reads to himself alone; And hour after hour on my senses come That husky wheeze and that dolorous hum. The price of stocks, the auction sales, The poet’s song and the lover’s glee, The horrible murders, the seaboard gales, The marriage list, and the.]eg d’esfir!/, All reach my ear in the self-same tone, I shudder at each, but the fiend reads on! O, sweet as the lapse of water at noon O’er the mossy roots of some forest tree, The sigh of the wind in the woods of June, Or sound of flutes o’er a moonlight sea, Or the low soft music, perchance, which seems To float through the slumbering singer’s dreams, 302

Page 303 view page image

The )DCl/IOll Of Itic Sillit/l’. So sweet, so clear is the silvery tone, Of her in whose features I somnetimes look, As I sit at exe l)y her side alone, And wve read t)y turns from the self-same b)ook, Some tale perhaps of the oldlen time, Some lover’s roimance or quainit old rhymne. Then \hen the story is one of woe, Some prisoner’s p)laint throu,gh his ldungeol-l)ar, Her blue eye glistens \ ith tears, and( low Her voice sinks (lo\n like a moan afar; And I seemi to hear that p)-isonec-‘s wail, Andi his face looks onl me worn anld l)ale. An(l when she readcls some merr-iecr song, Her voice is glad as an April birdl’s, And when the tale is of w-ar ald( wrong, A truml)et’s summons is in her wordcls, Ancd the rush of the hosts I seem to hea-r, Andcl see the tossing of p)lume andi spear! 0, pity me then, when, clay by day, The stout fiend darkens my par-lor door; And reads me perchance the self-same lay \Which melted in music, the night before, From lips as the lips of Hylas sweet, And moved like twvin roses which zephyrs meet! I cross my floor withl a nervous tread, I whistle and laugh and sing and shout, I flourish my cane above his head, And stir u1) the fire to r-oast himn out; I topple the chair-s, and (drum on the pane, And press my hands on my ears, in vain! I’ve studied Glanville an(d James the \vise, And wizar(l I)lack-letter tomes which treat Of dcelsons of ev\ery nrame and size, \‘hich a Christian man is i)resumed to meet, B3ut ne\ er a hint and never a line Can I find of a reading fiend like mine. I’ve crossed the Psalter with Bradly andi Tate, And lai(l the P-imer abo\xe theim all, I’ve nailed a horseshoe over-the grate, And hung a wig, to my p)arlor wall 303

Page 304 view page image

3o4 Once \orn l), ( lCarnC(l Ju(ldeC, tley siy, At Salcll couLt inl the titclecr\ ft (lty! Co;l’zfro It,, s(-terMs z’zii, 4bi-ze a Ii tuzll bcl-tl /!”-still Like a \ isihle liO’htII ae lh sits b)y iiie, rhe exolcislll hals lost its slkill An(i I iheat aa ini in mlv hiluntC(l I1()olll The husky \wheeze and( the (10101olorous humli! Ah! coiimmen(l me to tiar-y MNag(lalen \ith her sev-enfol( l)lgtLikes,-to the \wani(lering, Jewv, To the tenrnois wNhich hatunte(l Orestes \when The fulie is his ili(lidni,hlt curtains (re, But cha-irm himi off, ) e \ho ciharmi hini can, ‘lThat readcling deimoni, that fat old man! THE PUMPKIN.

0, GREENI,L atnd fair in the lan(ls of the sun, The -ines of the gourcl an(l the rich lileloin run, Andcl the rock an(lI the tree tan(l the cotttage cnfoil(1, \ith )road l eaves all gi-eenniess md(l blossoms Ill golld, Like that w\hich o’er Nineveh’s p)rol)het once g-rew\, \chile he w\aitedl to kino\v thtt his wvtarning \vas true, An(l longe(l for the storm-(lou(l, an(l listened( in vain For the rush of the w\hirl\wind(l am(l red fire-riiin. On the )aniks of the Xenil the (lark Sp)anish imai(le Comes ul) with the fruit of the taingled vine ladlen; Andcl the Creole of Cuba laughs out to l)ehol(1 Through orainge-lea es shining the )roa(l sl)heres of gold; 'et \with dear-er (lelig,lht from his homie in the North, ()n the fieldIs of his harvi-est tle Yankee looks forth, \‘here crook-necks are coilingZ an(I yllh\V fruit shines, AnI( thle sun of SeI)temil)er melts (lo1w\n oll his vines. Ah! on Thaniks,i-ii,,g dclyiv, \hen from IEast adicl from \Cest, From North andicl froin i South come the 1)ilgriim and guest, \Nhen the,-ray-haire(l Ne-En,landcler sees round( his board The ol0 b)roken links of affection restoi-el, \Whenl the care-\vearie(d mian seekls his mother once more, An(1 the \wori maitron smiiles \here the,irl smile(l before, \N’lhat miioistens the liI, 1(1 \
hat 1)t’lihtens the eC? \Vhat calls back the l)ast, like the rich l’tiil)kin p)ie? lfi’Sct,lltlllt,olls.

Page 305 view page image

Extract front “4A iVc,v In-~and fegend.” 305 0,  fruit loved of boyhood!-
the old days recalling, When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin,-our lantern the moon, Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam, In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team! OUR CHAIR A BROAD PUMPKIN, Then thanks for thy present!-none sweeter or better E’er smoked from an oven or circled a platter! Fairer hands nev er wrought at a pastry more fine, Brighter eyes never watched o’er its baking, than thine! And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie! EXTRACT

FROM “A NEW ENGLAND LEGEND.” How has New England’s romance fled, Even as a vision of the morning! Its rights foredone, its guardians dead(l,Its priestesses, bereft of dread, Waking the veriest urchin’s scorning! ,.j

Page 306 view page image

H~iscellatneous. Gone like the Indian wizard’s yell And fire-clance round the magic rock, Forgotten like the Druid’s spell At moonrise by his holy oak! No more along the sha(ldowvy glen, Glide the dim ghosts of murdered men; No more the unquiet churchyard (lead Glimpse upward from their turfy beld, Startling the traveller, late and lone; As, on some night of starless weather, They silently commune together, Each sitting on his own head-stone! The roofless house, decayed, deserted, Its living tenants all departed, No longer rings with midnight revel Of witch, or ghost, or goblin evil; No pale blue flame sends out its flashes Through creviced roof and shattered sashes!The witch-grass round the hazel spring May sharply to the night-air sing, But there no more shall withered hags Refresh at ease their broomstick nags, Or taste those hazel-shadowed waters As beverage meet for Satan’s daughters; No more their mimic tones be heard, The mnew of cat, the chirp of bird,Shrill blending with the hoarser laughter Of the fell demon following after! The cautious goodman nails no more A horseshoe on his outer door, Lest some unseemly hag should fit To his own mouth her bridle-bit,The goodwife’s churn no more refuses Its wonted culinary uses Until, with heated needle burned, The witch has to her place returned! Outr witches are no longer old And wrinkled beldames, Satan-sold, But young and gay and laughing creatures, W\ith the heart’s sunshine on their features,Their sorcery the light which dances \Where the raised lid unveils its glances; Or that low-breathed and gentle tone, The music of Love’s twilight hours, Soft, dreamlike, as a fairy’s moan Above her nightly closing flowers, Sweeter than that which sighed of yore Along the charmed Ausonian shore! 3o6

Page 307 view page image

OUR WITCHES ARE NO LONGER OI.D..

Page 308 view page image

Mis-cclilacous. Even she, our own -eir(1 heroine, Sole Pythoness of ancient Lynn, Sleeps calmly where the living laid her; And the wide realm of sorcery, Left by its latest mistress free, Hath found no gra and(
skilled invader: So )perished( All)ion’s glammarye,” \Vith him in Melrose Al)bbey sleeping, His eharllie(l torch b)eside his knee, FThatlt eene the (let(1 ll himself might see The mila,ic scroll \xithini his keeping, An( n low\ our mo(lern Yankee sees Nor omienis, sl)ells, nor mysteries; An(
niau,-ght al)()voe, l)elow, atrou(lnd, Of life or d(leath, of sight or sound, \Whate’er its nature, form, or look, Excites his terror or surprise, All seeming to his knowing eyes Familiar as his ” catechize,” Or ” \Vebster’s Spelling-Book.” HAMPTON BEACH. THE sunlight glitters keen and bright, Where, miles away, Lies stretching to my dazzled sight A luminous belt, a misty light, Beyond the (lark pine bluffs an(l wastes of sandy gray. The tremulous shaldowv of the Sea! Against its ground Of silvery light, rock, hill, an(l tree, Still as a picture, clear and free, \Vith varying outline mark the coast for miles around. On on we tread with loose-flung rein Our seaward way, Through dark-green fields and blossoming grain, WThere the wild brier-rose skirts the lane, And bends above our heads the flowering locust spray. Ha! like a kind hand on my brow Comes this fresh breeze, Cooling its dull and feverish glow, \While through my being seems to flowv The breath of a new life,-the healing of the seas!

308

Page 309 view page image

Hamolplo ];’ c aci. Now rest -e, her-e this grassy moulnd His feet hath set In the great \ate-rs, \vhich have 1)ounI(I His granite inikles greenly roun(l \ ith loni andi(l tamgllc(i miOss, an(l \vee(ls \vith cool sl)raty wvet. (;ood-l)- to p)ailn mn(l care! I t,kle MIine ease to-dlay Htere \vhere thles siiunny wvatcr-s l)reak, An(l ril)l)les tlis keen )reeze, I slihlke All l)ur-(lens from the h]eit, all e lary tll,ughts;l\vty. I (1-a\ a f-reer- l)-reathlI seem Like all I see \N’avxes in the sunI-the \hite-x ing-e(l gleam Of sea-bir(ls in the slantii,ng )etmAnd( far-off sails wvhich flit l)efore the south-wvin(I free. So vhen Timie’s vecil shall fall asunder, The soul imay knowv No fearful change, nor sudden wondler, Nor; sink the w-eight of mystery under, But with the ul)war(d rise, and \ithl the vastness grow. And all -e shrink from now may seem No new revealing’; Faimiiiar as our child(lhoo(l’s streanm, Or l)leasant memory of a dreaim The lo-e(l andl cherished l’ast ul)on the new life stealing Serene and miil(l the untried light Ma-hlave its (1dawning And, as in summer’s northern night fThie evening an(l the (la\wn unite, The sunset hues of fTime l)le(nd with the soul’s new morning. I sit alone; in foaim and spl)ray \‘ave after wave lireaks on the rocks Nwhich, stern an( graly, Beneath like fallen Titans lay, Or murmurs hoarse an(l strong through mossy cleft ar(l cave. \Vhat heed I of the (lusty-land An(i nois-to\ n? I see the mighty (leep expand From its white line of glimmering sand( To -where the l)lue of heaven on l)lue-r wa-es shiuts (lown! 309

Page 310 view page image

Miscella neous In listless quietude of mind, I yield to all The change of cloud and wave and wind And passive on the flood reclined, wander with the waves, and with them rise and fall. But look, thou dreamer!  wave and shore In shadow lie The night-wind warns me back once more IN FOAM AND

SPRAY WAVE AFTER WAVE BREAKS To where, my native ON THE ROCKS.To where, my native Ohill-tops o’er, Bends like an arch of fire the glowing sunset sky.

So then, beach, bluff, and wave, farewell! I bear with me No token stone nor glittering shell, But long and oft shall Memory tell Of this brief thoughtful hour of musing by the Sea. LINES, WRITTEN ON HEARING OF THE

DEATHII OF SILAS WRIGHT OF NEW YORK. As they who, tossing midst the storm at night, While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone, Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone, So, on the turbulent waves of party tossed, In gloom and tempest, men have seen thy light Quenched in the darkness. At thy hour of noon, While life was pleasant to thy undimmed sight, And, day by day, within thy spirit grew A holier hope than young Ambition knew, As through thy rural quiet, not in vain, Pierced the sharp thrill of Freedom’s cry of pain, Man of the millions, thou art lost too soon!

Portents at which the bravest stand aghast,The birth-throes of a Future, strange and vast, Alarm the land; yet thou, so wise and strong, 310

Page 311 view page image

3I’ Su(fldenl-summloned to the l)uri-,l b)e(l, Lapl)pec(l in its slumbers dclee) and ever long, Hear’st not the tumult surging o\ erhead. \Vho no\
shall rally Free(loma’s scattering hlost? \V-ho x-ear the manitle of the leader lost? \Vho stay the march of slav ery? He whose voice Hath called thee from th\ taisk-fiel(d shall not lack Y-et boller champions, to I)eat bravely b)ack The wrong w\hich, through his poor ones, reaches Hitlu Yet firmer handls shaill Freedlom’s torchlights trim, And \va\vc them high across the al) smail l)lack, liil I)oulCl, dumb millions there shall see them and rejoice. iot/t mio., 1847. LINES, A( Co )\IP ANY\ING MIANUSCRIPTS

PRESENTElD TO A FRI FN I). ‘T IS said that in the Holy Lan(l The angels of the place have blessed The pilgrim’s bed of desert sand, Likle Jacob’s stone of rest. That (low\n the hush of Syrian skies Some s\eet-voicecl saint at tw\ilight sing(‘s The son,- whose holy symphollies Are beat by unseen \Ninigs; Till starting from his sandy be(ld, The wayworn wanderer looks to see The halo of an angel’s head Shine through the tamarisk-tree.

So through the shadows of my way Thv smile hath fallen soft and clear, So at the Deary close of day Hath seemed thy \ oice of cheer. That pilgrim pressing to his goal Mlay pause not for the vision’s sake, Yet all fair things within his soul The thought of it shall wake: The graceful palm-tree by the well, Seen on the far horizon’s rim; The dark eyes of the fleet gazelle, Bent timidly on him; Li’lit’S.

Page 312 view page image

312 Each pictured saint, whose golden hair Streams sunlike through the convent’s gloom; Pale shrines of martyrs young and fair, And lo ing MIary’s toml); And thus each tint or shade which falls, Fromin sunset cloud or wvaving tree, Along my pilgrim path, recalls The pleasant thought of thee. Of one in sun and shade the same, In weal and woe my steady friend, Whatever by that holy name The angels comprehend. Not blind to faults and follies, thou Hast never failed the good to see, Nor judged by one unseemnly bough The upward-struggling tree. These light leaves at thy feet I lay, Poor common thoughts on common things, Which time is shaking, day by (lay, Like feathers from his wings, Chance shootings fromn a frail life-tree, To nurturing care but little known, Their good( was partly learned of thee, Their folly is my owvn. That tree still clasps the kindly mould, Its leaves still drink the twilight dew, And weaving its pale green with gold, Still shines the sunlight through. There still the morning zephyrs play, And there at times the spring bird sings, And mossy trunk and fading spray Are flowered with glossy wings. Yet, even in genial sun and rain, Root, branch, and leaflet fail and fade; The wanderer on its lonely plain Erelong shall miss its shade. lit,oil S.

Page 313 view page image

The Re-c,ar(l. O friend belovedl, whose curious skill Keel)s bright the last year’s leases an(l flowers, \NVith warm, glad(l sutmmer thoughts to fill The cold, (larlk, wainter hours! Pressed on thy heart, the leases I bring May w\ell dlefy the w\intry cold, Until, in Heaven’s eternal spring, Life’s fairer ones unfold. THE REWARD. 'HO, looking backweard from his manhood’s prime, Sees not the spectre of his misspent time? Andc, through the sha(le Of funeral cy p)ress p)lanted( thick behin(l, Hears no reproachful w-his)er on the rind FromI his lo\ ed dead? \V’ho bears no trace of passion’s evil force? \Vho shuns thy sting, 0 terrible Remorse?

\Vho does not cast On the thronged( pages of his inemorv’s hook, At times, a sadl and half-reluctant look, Regretful of the past? Alas!-the e\ i w hich we fain woul( shun \We dlo, and leave the w-ishe(l-for good unclone: Our strength to-(day Is but to-morro\s’weakness, prone to fall; Poor, blindcl, unprofitable servants all Are whe dalway. Yet who, thus looking backward o’er his years, Feels not his eyelids wet with grateful tears, If he hath been Permitted, weak and sinful as he was, To cheer and aid, in some ennobling cause, His fello\-men If he hath hiclddlen the outcast, or let in A ray of sunshine to the cell of sin, If he hath lent Strength to the weak, a(nd, in an hour of need, Over the suffering, min(lless of his creed( Or home, hath bent, 313

Page 314 view page image

Miscell/aleoas. He has not lived in vain, and \while he gives The praise to Hiln, in w\hoin he moves an(I lives, \N ith thankful heart; He gazes l)ackw\ard, an(d \ith hop)e before, Kno\wing that fromI his works he nevermnore Can henceforth part. RAPHAEL. I SHALL, not soon forget that sight: The glo\V of autulll’s vestering (lay, A halz \warmth, a d(reamiy light, On Raphael’s picture lay. It \as a simple print I saw, ‘FThie fair face of a musing boy; Yet, while I gazed, a sense of awe Seemed blending with my joy. A simple print::-the graceful flow Of boyhood(‘s soft and wavv hair, And fresh young lip and cheek, and brow Unmarked and clear, were there. Yet through its sweet an(I calm repose I sawv the iniward s)pirit shine; It w-as as if before me rose The white veil of a shrine. As if, as (Gothland’s sage has told, The hidden life, the man wvithin, Dissevered( from its frame and mould, By mortal eye wvere seen. \Vas it the lifting of that eye, The waving of that pictured hand? Loose as a clould-wreath on the sky, I sawv the walls expand. The narrow room ha(l vanished,-space, Broad, luminous, remained alone, Through wvhich all hues and shapes of grace And beauty looked or shone. ,3I4

Page 315 view page image

-A(zhael. Aroun(l the migihty master came ‘he miarvels \-hich his pencil vrought, Those miracles of po\er wx\hose fame Is \wide as huiman thought.

There drooped thy more than mortal face, O MIother, I)eautiful and mil(l!

Enfolding ill one (lear emblrace Thy Sa\ iour and thy Child! The rapl)t h)ro\ of the Desert John; The aw\ful glory-of that da\When all the Fathler’s hrightness shone Through mianhood’s xeil of cla. And, midst gray prophet forms, and wild Dark v isions of the days of old, Ho\
s-eetl- \woman’s )eauty smiled Through locks of brown an(l gold! Thiere Fornar-ina’s fair young face Once more ul)o her lo\er shone, \Vhose modlel of an angel’s )-race He borro\ed from hler own. Slo- passed that visionI from my v-iew, But not the lesson -hich it taughlt; The soft, calmi shado\s \hichl it threw Still rested on imy thloug,ht: The truth, tlhat )ainter-, I)aird, and sage, Eenii in Earthl’s cold and( changeful clime, Plant for their (leathless heritage The fruits anid tlo\vers of time. \Ve shape oursel-es the joy or fear Of \hich the comiing,- life is miade, And fill our Future’s atmloshliere \‘ith suInshine or ithl slhadle. The tissue of the Life to I)e \Ve \eave \ith colors all our owvn, An’l in the fiel(l of Destiny \Ve reap) as \we hav,e so\ n. 315

Page 316 view page image

Miscellai.voius. Still shall the soul around it call The shadows \vhich it gathered here, And, p) inted on the eternal wvall, The past shall real)l)ear. Think ye the notes of holy song On MNilton’s tuneful ear haxe died(? Think ye that Rap)hael’s angel throng Has vanished fromin his side?

O no! \ e live our life again; Or warmly touched, or coldly (lim, The pictures of the Past renmaill, MIan’s works shall follo\w himi! LUCY

HOOI’ER.43 THEY tell me, Lucy, thou art (lead, That all of thee \e ()love(l an(l cherished Has ith tlhy suLnmmer roses l)erished’ And left, as its younlg beauty fle(l, An ash en memor-y in its stead, The tilight of a )arte(l lay \‘hose fadingi light is cold and vain The heart’s faLint echlo of a strain Of low, s\eet music passe(l aw\ay. That true and lo ing heart,-that gift Of a mindl, earnest, clear, p)rofound, IBesto\in(g, \-ith a glad unthrift, Its sunny light on all around, Aflinities which only could Clea-e to the pure, the true, and good And s-ymipathies \hichl foundl no rest, Save with the loveliest and best. Of theim of thee remains there naught IBut sorrowv in the mourner’s breast?A shadowv in the lan(d of thought? No Ev-en mry w\eak and treml)ling, faith Can lift for thee the veil \hich doubt And humian fear have (dra\n about The all-awaiting scene of death. Even as thou wast I see thee still; An(l, sav-e the al)sence of all ill And pain a(nd \Nweariness, which here Summioned the sigh or wNrung the tear, 3i6

Page 317 view page image

Lucy Hooper. 317 The same as when, two summers back, Beside our childhood’s Merrimack, I saw thy dark eye wander o’er’ Stream, sunny upland, rocky shore, And heard thy low, soft voice alone.. Midst lapse of waters, and the tone.. gE Of pine-leaves by the west-wind blown, There’s not a charm of soul or brow,-, Of all we knew and loved in thee,-. But lives in holier beauty now, Baptized in immortality! Not mine the sad and freezing dream Of souls that, with their earthly mould, X. Cast off the loves and joys of old, - Unbodied, like a pale moonbeam, As pure, as passionless, and cold; Nor mine the hope of Indra’s son, Of slumbering in oblivion’s rest, THE HEARTAS FAINT ECHO I * r s 1 lot 1- OF A STRAIN

OF LOW, Life’s myriads blending into one, SWEET MUSIC PASSED In blank annihilation blest; AWAY. Dust-atoms of the infinite, Sparks scattered from the central light, And winning back through mortal pain Their old unconsciousness again. No! I have FRIENDS in Spirit Land, Not shadows in a shadowy band, Not others, but themselves are they. And still I think of them the same As when the Master’s summons came; Their change, the holy morn-light breaking Upon the dream-worn sleeper, waking, A change from twilight into day. They’ve laid thee midst the household graves, Where father, brother, sister lie; Below thee sweep the dark blue waves, Above thee bends the summer sky. Thy own loved church in sadness read Her solemn ritual o’er thy head, And blessed and hallowed with her prayer The turf laid lightly o’er thee there. That church, whose rites and liturgy, Sublime and old, were truth to thee, Undoubted to thy bosom taken, As symbols of a faith unshaken. Even I, of simpler views, could feel lucy Hooper. 3I7

Page 318 view page image

318 The beauty of thy trust an(l zeal And, owning not thy creedl, could see Howv deep a truth it seemedl to thee, And how thy fer\ent heart had thrown O’er all, a coloring, of its own, And kindled up, intense and warm, A life in every rite and fornm, As, when on Chebar’s banks of old, The Hebrew’s gorgeous vision rolle(l, A spirit filled the \ast machince,A life “w ithinl the \heels” was seen. Farewxell! A little time, and we \‘ho knew thee \ell, an(l loved thee here, One after one shall followx thee As pI)il,gr-ins through the gate of fear, \Whic h opl)ens on eternity. Yet shlall we cherish not the less All that is left our hearts meanwhile; The memiory-of thy loveliness Shall round our w eary l)athway smile, Like moonlight whenl the sun has set,  A sw-eet and ten(l-er ra(liance yet.

Thoughts of thy clear-eyed( sense of duty, Thy generous scorn of all things w rong,The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty \Which blen(led( in thy song. All lovely things, by thee belovedl, Shall \hisl)er to our hearts of thee These gr-een hills, \-here thy childhood roved, Y’on ri\ er win(ling to the sea, The sunset lig,ht of autumn eves Reflecting on the d(leep, still floods, Clou(l, crilmson sky, and trembling leaves Of rainlo\-tiniteid \o(-l s,These, in our ie\, shall henceforth take A tenderer meaninig for thy sake; And all thou lo-edst of earth and sky, Seem sacredcl to thy memory. CHANNING.44 NOT vainly dlid olcl poets tell, Nor vainily dlid ol( genius paint God(‘s great and crow\ning miracle, The hero and the saint! ifi’Sct,lltl 11 (,O//,.

Page 319 view page image

Chaianiii/,, For e\ en in a faithless (lday Can \ve our sainte(l ones discern; And feel, \while w\ith them on the \vway, Our hearts w\ithin us burn. And thus the common tongue and pen \V’hich, -orld-\vide, echo CHANNING’S fame, As one of Heaven’s anointed men, Have sanctified his name. In vain shall Rome her portals bar, And shut from him her saintly prize, \Whom, in the \vorld’s great calendlar, All men shall canonize. By Narragansett’s sunny bay, Beneath his green emlbowering woo(d, To me it seems hut yesterday Since at his side I stood. The slopes lay grieen with summer rains, The western wind blew fresh and free, And glimmered do\wn the orchard lanes The white surf of the sea. With us was one, who, calm and true, Life’s highest purpose understood, And, like his blessed Master, knew The joy of doing good. Unlearned, unknown to lettered famne, Yet on the lips of Englandc’s poor And toiling millions (dwelt his name, WVith blessings ev\ermore. Uniknow-n to power or place, yet where The sun looks o’er the Carib sea, It )lended with the freeman’s prayer And song of jubilee. He told of England’s sin and wrong, The ills her suffering children know, The squalor of the cit-‘s thronlg, The green field’s want and wvoe. 319

Page 320 view page image

Mriscellaiicoi s. O’er Channing’s faice the tenderness Of sympathetic sorro\v stole, Like a still sha(ow\, passionless, The sorrowv of the soul.

But when the generous Briton told How hearts were answ\ering to his own, And Freecldom’s rising miurmur rolled Up to the dlull-earedc throne, I saw, methought, a gla(l surprise Thrill through that frail and l)ain-worn frame, And, kinilling, in those d(leep), calm eyes, A still an(l earnest flamie. His few, l)rief wor(ls were such as move The humiam heart, the Faith-sowin seeds \Vhich ril)en in the soil of love To high heroic d(leed(s. No bars of sect or clime were felt. The Babel strife of tongues ha(l ceased,An(l at one commoni altar knelt The Quaker an(l the l)riest.

.And( not in vain: \ith stirength renewed, An( zeal refreshed, and hop)e less dim, For that b)rief meeting, each pursued The p)ath allotted him.

How echoes yet each \Vestern hill Ancd -ale faith Chantning’s dclying, word! How are the hearts of freemen still By that great \-arninog stirred! The stranger treads his native soil, Ani l)lea(ls, with zeal unfelt before The honest right of British toil, The claim of Englan(I’s poor. Before him time-\xrou,ght I)arriers faill, Old fears subsid(le, old hatred(s melt, And, stretching o’er the seat’s hlue wall, The Saxon greets the Celt. 320

Page 321 view page image

To the iYfemo,) of Charlcs B. Storrs. The y-eooman on the Scottish lines.

The Shleffield grin(ler-, \orln an(l grim, The (lel-er in the Corn\all miines, Look ul) \ith hop)e to him. Svart smiters of the glowing steel, Dark feeders of the forge’s flanme, Pale \vatchers at the loom and \heel, Repeat his honore(d n.ae. An(l thus the influellnce of that hour Of conv\erse on Rhodle Island(‘s strand( Li-es in the callm), resistless l)o\er \-hich mov\es our fathier-laln(l. God blesses still the generous thought, An(l still the fitting \ord( He sl)ee(ls, An(l Truth, at his requiring taught, He quickens into d(lee(ls. \V’here is the victorv of the griave? \V\hat (lust upon the spirit lies? God keel)s the sacred( life he gave, The l)rol)het ne-er dies! TO 1’HE IMEMIORY OF CHARLES 3B. STORRS, I,ATE PRESIDENT OF WVESTERN RESERVF COILLEGE. TH()oU hast fallen in thine arnmor, Thou martyr of the Lord \‘ith th\ last hreath cry ilg,-“

On\Nard(! An(l thv hala(I ulpon the s\ord. The hau(,ht-heart deri(letlh, And( the sinfutl lip) reviles, I3ut the hlessing of the perishing Around th-1)illow\ smiles \VN’hen to our cup of trembling The al(ldded( drop is given, And the long-suspl)encldedl thunder Falls terribl)l\ from Heaven, 

\V’hen a Ile\w a1n(1 fearful freeclom Is proffered(l of the ILor(l To the slo\w-constuming, Famine, The Pestilence and S\-ord! 32I

Page 322 view page image

Miscell//aneois. \Vhen the refuges of Falsehood Shall I)e s\el)t awNay in \wrath, And the tenmp)le shall h)e shaken, \Vith its id(lol, to the earth,Shall not thy \ordls of wvarning le all remembered( then? And thy Iro\v unheeded mnessage Burn in the hearts of men? Oppression’s hand mav scatter Its nettles on thy tomb, Andl even Christian b)osonms Den-thy imemior’ room For I \ing lips shall torture Thy mer-cy into crime, And the slandclerer-shall flourish As the ba tree for a time. But \vhere the south-windcl lingers On Carolina’s pines, Or falls the careless sunbeam Do\-n Georgia’s goldeni mines,\Vhere inov beneathl his burthenii The toiling slave is driven,  \Vher-e now\ a tyrant’s mockery Is offered unto Heaven, 'here Mamnmon hath its altars \Vet o’er \with human blood, And pride and lust debases The w\orkmanship of God,There shall thy praise be spoken, Redeemed from Falsehood’s ban, ‘Vhen the fetters shall be broken, And the sltzzve shall be a iman! Joy to thy spirit, brother! A thousand hearts are \-arm,A thousand kin(l-red bosoms Are baring to the storm.

WVhat though red-handled Violence \Vith seciret Fi-au(d combine? The wall of fire is round us, Our Present Hell) seas thine. 32 2

Page 323 view page image

BlIes. Lo, the \aking up of nations, From Slavery’s fatal sleel),The murmur of a Univxerse,  Deep calling unto Deel)! Joy to thy spirit, ibrother! On1 erery \ inid of hea\ en The onwaid cheer an(l summons Of FREEDOMI’S VOICE is given! (;lory to God forever! B~ey o(nd the despot’s w\ill The soul of Freedom liveth Impilerishablle still. The \orils \hilch thou hast uttered Are of that soul a part, And the good seed thou hast scattered Is sprilnging from the heart. In the evil days before us, And the trials yet to come,In the shadow of the prison, Or the cruel mart)yrdom,\Ve -ill think of thee, O brother! And the sainted name shall be In the blessing of the cal)tiv e, And the anthem of the free. 1834.

LINES, ON THE DEATH OF S. OLIVER TORREYo GONE before us, 0 our brother, To the sl)irit-lat(nd! Vainl\ look \ e for another In thy l)lace to stand.

\-ho shall offer youth and beauty On the W\asting shrine Of a stern and lofty duty, \Vith a faith like thine? 0, thN gentle smile of greeting Who again shall see? WVho amidst the solemn meeting Gaze again on thee? 323

Page 324 view page image

324 W’ho, when peril gathers o’er us, \Vear so calm a browx? Vho, withl evil iimen before us, So serene as thou? Earl, hath the spoiler found thee, Brother of our lo\ e! Autumn’s faded earth around thee, Andi its storms above! Evermore that turf lie lightly, Anl, \ithl future showers, O’er thy slutl)el-s fresh an(l brightly Blow the summer flowers! In the locks thy forehea(ld g,rracing, Not a silver\ streak Nor a line of sor-row’s tracing On thv fair y ouIng cheek Eyes of light and lip)s of roses, Such as Hx las wxvore, Over all that curtain closes, \Vhich shall rise no more \Will the xigil Love is keeping loullnd that grave of thine, Mournfully, like Jazer weeping O\er Sibimah’s X ine,4” \N’ill the pl)easant imemor-ies, swelling Gentle hear-ts, of thee, In the spirit’s d(listant xdwelling All ulnheeded( be? If the spirit ever ga,es, From its jourlneyings, back; If the immortal es er traces O’er its mortal track; \Vilt thoul not, 0 brother, meet us Sometimes on our way, Andl, in hours of sa(ldness, greet us As a spirit may? Peace be with thee, 0 our brother, In the spirit-lan(l! VXainly look we for another In thy place to stand.

,Ifisc(,II(711(-,olls.

Page 325 view page image

325 Unto Truth and Freedom giving All thy early powers, Be thy virtues with the living, And thy spirit ours! A LAMENT. “The parted spirit, Knoweth it not our sorrow? Answereth not Its blessing to our tears?” THE
circle is broken, one seat is forsaken, One bud from the tree of our friendship is shaken, One heart from among us no longer shall thrill With joy inll our gladness, or grief in our ill. Weep! lonely and lowly are slumbering now The light of her glances, the pride of her brow, Weep!

sadly and long shall we listen in vain To hear the soft tones of her welcome again. KSEN. Give our tears to the dead! For humanity’s claim From its silence and darkness is ever the same; The hope of that World whose existence is bliss May not stifle the tears of the mourners of this. For, oh! if one glance the freed spirit can throw On the scene of its troubled probation below, Than the pride of the marble, the pomp of the dead, To that glance will be dearer the tears which we shed. 0, who can forget the mild light of her smile, Over lips moved with music and feeling the while The eye’s deep enchantment, dark, dreamlike, and clear, In the glow of its gladness, the shade of its tear. A lament. THE ci THE SI-IA

Page 326 view page image

326 Andi the charim of htr features, whvlile over the \hole Pla-ed( the hues of the heart and the sunshine of soul,An(l the tones of her voice, like the music \vhichl seenms .Murmuredc lov in our ears by the Angel of (Ireams! But holier and dearer our melmories hold Those treasures of feeling, more precious than gold,The love and the kindness and p)ity vhich gave Fresh flowers for the bri(lal, gr-eenV wreatths for the grave! Fhe heart ever open to Charity’s claitt, Unimov-edl from its purpo)tse by censure a((1 })llec, NVhile vainly alike on her eve and her ear Fell the scorn of the heartless, the jesting iand( jeer. Ho\v true to our hearts waas that beautiful sleeper! WVith smiles for the joyful, with tears for the wveeper-‘ Yet, evermore prompt, wvhether mournful or gay, WVith wvarnings in love to the passing astray. For, though spotless herself, she could sorrowv for themi WVho sullied with evil the spirit’s pure gen; And a sigh or a tear could the erring repros ve, And the sting of reproof was still temperedl by love. As a cloud of the sunset, slowv nielting in heaven, As a star that is lost when the clayli,ght is given, As a glad dreami of slumber, which wakens in bliss, She hath passed to the world of the holy from this. I)ANIEL WVHEELER. r).ANIEIt. WHEILF at mrinister of the Society of Friends, and who had labored in the cause of his Divine Master in Great Britain s, ussi, an(l the islands of the tcific, died in Nesv \ ork in the spring of t840, while ott a religious visit to this otttry ] O DEARLY love(l! And \woi-thy of our lo-e! No more Thy aged formi shall rise before The hushed and \w aiting worshipper, In meek obedience utterance giving To words of truth, so fresh and living, That, even to the inwarcl sense, They bore unquestioned evidence Of an anointed Messenger!

lfl’Sct-,Iltl /it,olls.

Page 327 view page image

Di)(ll’t/ l F[ eelr. Or, l)o\ving (lo\ l thy silv er hair In r-e-erenit a-fulness of pra -er, The \orl(l, its time aln(I sense, shut out,The brig,htness of Faith’s hol-trance Gathere(l UpOnl thy countenance, As if each lingering cloud of (loubt,  The cold, dark shaldo\s restin,g here 1ill Time’s Uniltliinous atnimosl)hlere, \‘ere lifte(d by an angel’s hanl(l, AnI( through them on thv-spiritual eye Shone (lo\ni the blessedness on high, The,glory of the Better Land! The oak has fallell!

'Ihile, meet for nio good \ork, the xine \Iav vet its \orthless b)ranches t\ine. \lio kno-eth not that with thee fell A great man in our Israel? Fallell, \while th- loins \we-e girldecl still, ‘Fhv feet \vith Zion’s (le\vs still \et, AnI( in thv han(l retaining, yet The pilgrim’s staff a(nd scallol)-shell! Unharme(d and( safe, \here, \vil(l and free, Across the Ne\ a’s cold morass The breezes fi-om the Frozen Sea \Vith \-inte-‘s ar-ro\v kleeinness pass Or \here the un\varning troi)ic gale Smnote to the waves thy tattered sail, Or \-here the noon-hour-‘s fer\
id( heat Against Tahiti’s mountains beat; ‘The same msterious HIand \vhich ga\e Deliverance Up)OI laind and wvave, Teml)erecl for thee the blasts which blewv Lad(laga’s frozen surface o’er, And l)lessed( for thee the baleful de\v Of ev ening UI)pol FEimeo’s shiore, Beneathl this sui0ny heav en of ours, Midist our soft airs and( oplening flo\vers Hath given thee a grave! His \will be lone, \Vho seeth not as mana, whose \ay Is inot as o urs!-“F is \ell vitli thee! Nor anxious (louLIl)t nior (lark disimav Dis(Ituiete(l thy closing, dlay,But, e-ernmor-e, thv soull couldl sa, “Mvy Father carethl still for me!” ,,2 7

Page 328 view page image

Miscellaiizous. Called from thy hearth an(l home, fronm her The last I)u0(
on thy household tree, The last dlear ()one to minister In (luty and in love to thee, From all which nature holdleth clear, Feeble wvith years and wvorn \vith pain, To seek our distant land again, Boun(l in the spirit, yet unknovingll The things \which should befall thee here, \hlethler for labl)or or for death. In childlike trust serenely going To that last trial of thy faith! 0, faLr aw\ay, \Where never shines our Northern star On that (lark waste which 13all)oa saw\ From Darien’s miountains stretching far, So strange, heaven-broadc, and lone, that there, \Vith forehead to its (lamp \viind bare, He bent his nmaile(l knee in ave; In many an isle whose coral feet The surges of that ocean beat, In thy palm sha(lows, Oahu, And Honolulu’s silver bay, Amidst Owvyhee’s hills of blue, And taro-plains of TOoo)oonai, Are gentle hearts, which lollg shall be Sad as our own at thought of thee,\Vorn sowers of Truth’s holy see(l, \Whose souls in \veariness an(l need \Vere strengthene(l an(l refreshed hby thine. For hlesse(l by our Father’s hand \Vas thy d(leep love an(l tender care, Thy ministry an(l fervent prayer,(Grateful as Eschol’s clustered vine To Israel in a weary land! An(l they w\ho d(rew B)+ thousand(s round(I thee, in the hour Of )rayerful waiting, hushed an(l d(eep, That He whio l)a(le the islan(Is keel) Silence before him, might renew Their strength with his unslumberi,ng l)ower, The\ too shall mourn that thou art gone, Thatt nevermnore thy a,ged( lip Shall soothe the veak, the erring arns, 328

Page 329 view page image

Daniel [Vheeler. Of those who first, rejoicing, heard Through thee the Gospel’s glorious word, Seals of thy true apostleship. And, if the brightest diadem, Whose gems of glory purely burn Around the ransomed ones in bliss, Be evermore reserved for them VWrho here, through toil and sorrow, turn Many to righteousness,May we not think of thee as wearing That star-like crown of light, and bearing, Amidst Heaven’s white and blissful band, The fadeless palm-branch in thy hand; And joining with a seraph’s tongue In that new song the elders sung, Ascribing to its blessed Giver Thaniksgiving, love, and praise forever! Farewell! And though the ways of Zion mourn When her strong ones are called away, Who like thyself have calmly borne The heat and burden of the day, Yet He who slumbereth not nor sleepeth His ancient watch around us keepeth; Still, sent fromin his creating hand, New witnesses for Truth shall stand, New instruments to sound abroad The Gospel of a risen Lord; To gather to the fold once more The desolate and gone astray, The scattered of a cloudy day, And Zion’s broken walls restore; And, through the travail and the toil Of true obedience, minister Beauty for ashes, and the oil Of joy for mourning, unto her! So shall her holy bounds increase With walls of praise and gates of peace So shall the \ine, which martyr tears And blood sustained in other years, With fresher life be clothed upon; And to the world in beauty show Like the rose-plant of Jericho, And glorious as Lebanon! 329

Page 330 view page image

A iscel/ltneols. DANIEL NEALL. I. FRIEND of the Slave, and yet the friend of all; Lover of peace, yet ever foremost when The need of battling Freedom calle(l for men To plant the banner on the outer wall; Gentle and kindly, ever at (distress Melted to more than wvoman’s tenderness, Yet firm and steadfast, at his dluty’s post Fronting the violence of a maddened host, Like some gray rock from which the waves are tosse(ld!

Knowing his d(eeds of love, men questioned not The faith of one whose walk and word were right,WVho tranquilly in Life’s great task-field wrought, And, side by side with evil, scarcely caught A stain upon his pilgrim garb of white: Prompt to redress another’s wrong, his own Leav ing to Time and Truth and Penitence alone. II. Such was our friend. Formed on the good old plan, A true and brave and downright honest man! He blew no trumpet in the market-place, Nor in the church with hypocritic face Supplied with cant the lack of Christian grace; Loathing pretence, he did with cheerful will WVhat others talked of while their hands were still; And, while ” Lor(d, Lor(l!” the pious tyrants cried, WVho, in the poor, their Master crucified, H-s daily prayer, far better understood In acts than words, was simp)ly DOING GOOD. So calm, so constant was his rectitude, That by his loss alone we know its worth, And feel how true a man has walked with us on earth. 6/h 61h m,onth, i846. TO MY FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER.46

THINE is a grief, the depth of which another May never know; Yet, o’er the waters, O my stricken brother! To thee I go. 330

Page 331 view page image

To izy Frienld oi the Deal,i of ]His Sisler. 331 I lean mv heart unto thee, sadly folding, Tiv hand in miine; With even the \leakness of imy soul upholding The strength of thine. I never knewv, like thee, the dear departed; I stood not by When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted Lay down to die. And on thy ears my words of weak condoling Must vainlv fall: The funeral bell wlhich in thy heart is tolling, Sounds over all! I will not mock thee with the poor wvorld’s common And heartless phrase, Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman With idle praise. \Vith silence only as their benediction, God’s angels come Where, in the sha(dow of a great affliction, The soul sits cldumb! Yet, would I say what thy own heart approveth: Our Father’s \vill, Calling to Him the dear one whomn He loveth, Is mercy still. Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel Hath evil wrought: Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel,  The good (lie not! God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly \What He hath given; They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly As in his heaven. And she is with thee; in thy path of trial She walketh yet; Still with the baptism of thy self-denial Her locks are wet.

Page 332 view page image

332 iisccllaneous. Up, then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest Lie white in view! She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest To both is true. Thrust in thy sickle! England’s toil-worn peasants Thy call abide; And she thou mourn’st, a pure and holy presence, Shall glean beside! GONE. ANOTHER hand is beckoning us, Another call is given; And glows once more with Angel-steps ‘he path which reaches Heaven. Our young and gentle friend, whose smile Made brighter summer hours, Amid the frosts of autumn time Has left us with the flowers. No paling of the cheek of bloom Forewarned us of decay; No shadow from the Silent Land Fell round our sister’s way. The light of her young life went down, As sinks behind the hill The glory of a setting star,  Clear, suddenly, and still. As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed Eternal as the sky; And like the brook’s low song, her voice, A sound which could not die. And half we deemed she needed not The changing of her sphere, To give to Heaven a Shining One, Who walked an Angel here. The blessing of her quiet life Fell on us like the dew; And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed Like fairy blossoms grew. -zlfiscellaneous. 332

Page 333 view page image

7le Lbake Sitlde. Street promptings unto kindest deeds \Nere in her Xeri look; \VNe read her face, as one e\ho reads A true aind holy book: The measure of a blessed hymn, ‘Fo whbich our hearts cotl(I move; The l)reathing of ai inw\ai-d psalm; A canticle of lose. VW’e miss her in the place of prayer, And I)- the hearth-fire’s light \ e )ause b)esi(le her dcloer, to hear Oince moi-e her sw\eet ” Good-ni4ht!” There seems a shado\v on the dclay, Her smile no longer cheers; A dimness on the stars of night, Like ey-es that look through tears. Alone unto our Father’s \ill One thought hath reconciled(; That He whose love exceedethl curs Hath taken home His child. Fold her, O Father! in thine arms, And let her henceforth be A messenger of love between Our human hearts and thee. Still let her mild rebuking stand Between us and the wrong, And her dear memory serve to make Our faith in Goodness strong. AntI grant that she who, trembling, here D)istrusted all her powers, May welcome to her holier home The well-belovedl of ours. THE LAKE-SIDI)E. THE shadows round the inland sea Are deepening into night; Slow up the slopes of Ossipee They chase the lessening light. 333

Page 334 view page image

Tired of the long day’s blinding heat, i rest my languid eye, Lake of the Hills! where, cool and sweet, Thy sunset waters lie! Along the sky, in wavy lines, O’er isle and reach and bay, Green-belted with eternal pines, The mountains stretch away. THE SHADOWS ROUND THE INLAND SEA ARE DEEPENING

INTO NIGHT. Below, the maple masses sleep Where shore with water blends, While midway on the tranquil deep The evening light descends. So seemed it when yon hill’s red crown, Of old, the Indian trod, And, through the sunset air, looked dclown Upon the Smile of God.47 To him of light and shade the laws No forest sceptic taught; Their living and eternal Cautse His truer instinct sought. Afiscellalleolls. 334

Page 335 view page image

T/ie H/lI-To.p. He sawv these mnountains in the light \VN’hich now\
across them shines; This lake, in suimmer sunset bright, \Valle(l round \vith somber-ing pines. God near him seemed; from earth and skies His loving \ oice he heard, As, face to face, in Paradise, AIan stood before the Lord. Thanks, 0 our Father! that, like him, TI’hy tender lo-e I see, In radiant hill and woodland dim, And tinted sunset sea. For not in mockery dost thou fill Our earth with light and grace; Thou hi(d’st no dark and cruel wvill Behind Thy smiling face! THE HILL-TOP. THE burl\
driver at my side, \Ve slo\ lv climbed the hill, 'hose summit, in the hot noontide, Seemed rising, rising still. At last, our short noon-sha(lo\vs hid The tol)-stone, l)ar-e and( browsn. From \-hence, like Gizeh’s pyramid, The iough mass slanted dovwn. I felt the cool breath of the North; Bet\een me and the sun, O’er deep, still lake, and riclgy earth, I saw\ the cloud-shades run. Before me, stretched for glistening miles, Lay mountain-gir-dled Squam; Like green-\xinged birds, the leafy isles Upl)on its bosom swam. And, glimmering through the sun-haze warm, Far as the eye could roam, Dark billow\s of an earthquake stormn BefleckeAd with clouds like foam, Their vales in misty shadow deep, Their rugged peaks in shine, I saw\ the mountain ranges sweep The horizon’s northern line. 335

Page 336 view page image

Aisceillaneoiis. There towered Chocorua’s peak; and west, Moosehillock’s woods were seen, With many a nameless slide-scarred crest And pine-dark gorge between. Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud, The great Notch mountains shone, Watched over by the solemn-browed And awful face of stone! ON YONDER MOSSY LEDGE SHE SAT, HER SKETCH UPON HER KNEES. “A good look-off!” the driver spake: ” About this time, last year, I drove a party to the Lake, And stopped, at evening, here. ‘T was duskish down below; but all These hills stood in the sun, Till, dipped behind yon purple wall, He left them, one by one. “A lady, who, from Thornton hill, Had held her place outside, And, as a pleasant woman will, Had cheered the long, dull ride, Besought me, with so sweet a smile, That though I hate delays 336

Page 337 view page image

Of R~C’i zfl’ l an m tigli“‘s Qiill’ fi’oiii -Ltlk’ Sliperior. 337 I could not choose but rest awhile, (These women have such ways!) “On yonder mossy ledge she sat, Her sketch upon her knees, A stray brown lock beneath her hat Unrolling in the breeze; Her sweet face, in the sunset light UI)raised and glorifie(l, I never saw a prettier sight In all my mountain ridle. ‘As good as fair; it seemed her joy To comfort andl to give My poor1, sick w\ife, an(l cril)l)le boy, \N’ill bless her wAhile the) live!” The tremor-in the dri \er’s tone His manlhoodcl did not shamee I dare say, sir, you ()may hav\e kno\n He inamed a \eI-oll-kown namiie. Then sank the 1)-yramidcal moun(ls, The blue lake fled away; For mountain-scol)e a p)arilor’s bounds, A lighted hearth for da'! From lonely y ears and w-ectry Ililes The shadow\s fell apl)art; Kind voices cheered, sweet human smiles Shone warm into my heart. WVe journeyed on; but earth and sky Had power to charm no more; Still dreamed lmy in\ ard(-turninig e-e The dream of minemory o’er. Ah! human kin(lness, human love, To few who seek (lenied,Too late we learn to prize abo\ve The w,hole round world b)eside!

ON RECEIVING AN EAGLE’S (UILL FROMN LAKE SUPERIOR. ALL day the darkness and the cold Upon mv heart have lain, Like shadows on the winter sky, Like frost upon the pane;

Page 338 view page image

33 J-//llos But now my torpid fancy wakes, And, on thv Eagle’s plume, Rides forth, like Sindbad on hiis bird, Or witch upon her broom! Below me roar the rocking pines, Before me spreads the lake \Whose long and solemn-sounding waves Against the sunset break. I hear the wild Rice-Eater thresh The grain he has not sown; I see, with flashing scythe of fire, The prairie harvest mown! I hear the far-off voyager’s horn; I see the Yankee’s trail,His foot on every moulitain-pass, On every stream his sail.

By forest, lake, and waterfall, I see his pedler sho\vw; The mighlty mingling with the mean, The lofty withl the low. He’s whittling by St.

Mary’s Falls, Upon his loaded wain; He’s mneasuring o’er the Pictured Rocks, \Vith eager eyes of gain. I hear the mattock in the mine, The axe-stroke in the dell, The clamor from the Indian lodge, The Jesuit chapel bell! I see the swarthy trappers come From Mississippi’s springs; And war-chiefs with their painted brows, And crests of eagle wings. Behind the scared squaw’s birch canoe, The steamer smokes and raves; And city lots are staked for sale Above old Indian graves. 338 ffli’st-ell(iiieous.

Page 339 view page image

O0, RecCih’iflg ai., Ett,ge’s Qiiuot f l ozi L(tae &S1iter”Or. 339 I hear the tread of pioneers Of nations yet to be; The first lo\v wash of waves, where soont Shall roll a human sea. The rudiments of empire here Are plastic yet and warm; The chaos of a mighty world Is rounding into form!

Each rulde and jostling fragment soon Its fitting place shall find,The raw material of a State, Its muscle and its mind! And, westering still, the star which lads(Is The Nevw Vorld in its train Has tipped with fire the icy spears Of many a mountain chain. The snowvy cones of Oregon Are kindling on its way; And California’s golden sands Gleam brighter in its ray! Then blessings on thy eagle quill, As, wandlering far and wide, I thank thee for this twilight dream And Fancy’s airy ride! Yet, welcomer than regal plumes, \Which \Western trappers find, Thy free and pleasant thoughts, chance so\wn. Like feathers on the A ind. Thy symbol be the mountain-bird, WVhose glistening quill I hold; Thy home the ample air of hope, And memory’s sunset gold! In thee, let joy with duty join, And strength unite wAith love, The eagle’s pinions folding round The warm heart of the dove!

Page 340 view page image

A B’KUTIFUL AND HAPPY GIRL, WITH STEP AS LIGHT AS SUMMER AIR.

Page 341 view page image

IVem lories. So, \vhen in darkness sleeps the vale Where still the blind l)ird( clings, The sunshine of the upper sky Shall glitter on thy \wings!

MEMIORIES. A BEAUTIFUl, and happy girl, WVith step as light as summer air, Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of peal, Shadowe(l by Imany a careless curl Of unconfined and flowing hair; A seeiniiig child in everything, Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms, As Nature \wears the smile of Spring When sinking into Sumlner’s arms. A mind rejoicing in the light \Vhich melted through its graceful bower, Leaf after leaf, (ldewv-moist and bright, And stainless in its holy white, Unfol(ingg like aimorning flowxer: A heart, wvhich, like a fine-toned( lute, \NVith every breath of feeling woke, And. even when the tongue was mute, From eye and lip in music spoke. How thrills once more the lengthening chain Of imeiiory, at the thought of thee Old hol)es which long in (lust have lain Old direciams, come thronging back again, An(l boyhood lives again in ine; !

feel its glowv u)pon invmy cheek, Its fulness of the heart is mine, As \
hen I leaned( to hear thee speak, Or raised my doubtful eye to thine. I hear again thy low\ replies, I feel thy arm within mly own, And timidly again uprise The fringed lidls of hazel eyes, With soft brow\n tresses overblown. Ah! memories of sweet summer evxes, Of moonlit wave and willo\y way, Of stars aind flowers, and dlewy leaves, AndI smiles and tones more (lear than they! 341

Page 342 view page image

Miscellaneous. Ere this, thy quiet eye hath smiled My picture of thy youth to see, When, half a woman, half a child, Thy very artlessness beguiled, And folly’s self seemed wise in thee; I too can smile, when o’er that hour The lights of memory backward stream, Yet feel the while that manhood’s power Is vainer than my boyhood’s dream. AH! MEMORIES OF SWEET SUMMER

EVES. Years have passed on, and left their trace, Of graver care and deeper thought; And unto me the calm, cold face Of manhood, and to thee the grace Of woman’s pensive beauty brought. More wide, perchance, for blame than praise, The school-boy’s humble name has flown; Thine, in the green and quiet ways Of unobtrusive goodness known. And wider yet in thought and deed Diverge our pathways, one in youth; Thine the Genevan’s sternest creed, 342

Page 343 view page image

The oe5elld of St. AJflrk. \Vhile answers to my splirit’s need The Derby dlalesman’s simp)le truth. For thee, the priestly rite atnd prayer, And holy (lday, and solemn psalm; For me, the silent revxerence where \Iy brethren gather, slowv and calm. Yet hath thy spirit left on mc An inmpress Time has worn not out, And something of myself in thee, A shadow from the past, I see, Lingering even yet, thy way about; Not wholly can the heart unlearn That lesson of its better hours, Not yet has Tim-ne’s (lull footstep worn To coinmmon dust that path of flowers. Thus, while at times before our eyes The shadows melt, and fall apart, And, smiling through them, round us lies The warmi light of our morning skies, The Indian Summer of the heart!In secret sympathies of mind, In founts of feeling which retain Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find Our early dreams not wholly vain! THE LEGEND OF ST. MARK.48 THE (lay is closing dark and cold, \With roaring blast and sleety showers; And through the dusk the lilacs wear The bloom of snow, instead of flowers. I turn me from the gloom without, T’Fo ponder o’er a tale of old, A legend of the age of Faith, By dreaming monk or abbess told. On Tintoretto’s canvas lives That fancy of a lovxing heart, In graceful lines and shapes of power, And hues immortal as his art. In Provence (so the story runs) There lived a lord, to whom, as slave, A peasanit-boy of tender years The chance of trade or conquest gave. 343

Page 344 view page image

Misce/llanoius. Foi-th-looking fromI the castle tower, Beyond the hills with almonds (lark, The straining eye could scarce discern The chapel of the good St. Mark. And there, when bitter word or fare The service of the y outh repaid, By stealth, before that holy shrine, For grace to bear his \wrong, hie p)rayed. The steed stamped at the castle gate, The boar-hunt sounded on the hill; Why stayed the Ba-roni from the chase. \Vith looks so stern, and words so ill? ” Go, bind( y onl slave! and let himn learn, By scath of fire and strain of cord, low\ ill they speed who give dead saints The homnage due their living lord!” They bound him on the fearful rack, \Vhen, through the dunigeon’s vaulted dark, He saw the light of shining robes, And knew the face of good St. Mark. Then sank the iron rack apart, The cords released their cruel clasp, The pincers, with their teeth of fire, Fell broken from the torturer’s grasp. And lo! before the Youth and Saint, Barred door and wall of stone gave way; And up from bondage and the night They passed to freedom and the (lay! O dreaming monk! thy tale is true; O painter! true thy pencil’s art; In tones of hope and prophecy, Ye whisper to my listening heart! Unheard no burdened heart’s appeal MIoans up to God’s inclining ear; Unheeded by his tender eye, Falls to the earth no sufferer’s tear. 344

Page 345 view page image

T/ze Iell of Loch Altizree. For still the Lord alone is G(;od! The pomp and power of tyrant man Are scattered at his lightest breath, Like chaff before the winno\ er’s fan. Not always shall the slave uplift His heavy hands to Heaven in vain, God’s angel, like the good St. Mark, Comes shining down to break his chain! O weary ones! ye may not see Your helpers ill their downward( flight; Nor hear the sound of silver wings Slo\w beating through the hush of night! But not the less gray Dothan shone, \Vith suni)right wvatchers bending low, That Fear’s dlim eve beheld( alone The spear-heads of the Syrian foe. There are, who, like the Seer of old, Can see thie helpers God has sent, And how life’s rugged mountan-side Is white wvith many an angel tent! They-hear the heralds whomn our Lord Sends down his pathway to prepare; And light, from others hiddlen, shines On their high place of faith and prayer. Let such, for earth’s despairing ones, Hopeless, yet longing to be free, Breathe once again the Prophlet’s prayer: - “Lord, ope their eyes, that they may see!” THE WELL OF LOCH

MAREE.49 CAI,MA on the breast of Loch Maree A little isle reposes; A shadow wovoen of the oak And Awillow o’er it closes. Within, a Druidl’s mound is seen, Set round with stony warders; A fountain, gushing through the turf, Flows o’er its grassy borders. 345

Page 346 view page image

346 And( \hoso l)athles tlherein his I)r-o\, \ ithi cae or Inmd(lness l)urlionig, Feels ()Orice agI in his healthlful thought AnI( sense of l)eace i-etLurning-. O restless heairt ao(l fexere(l b)railln, ‘Il(luiet ao(l ullsttl)le, That h()ly well o(f ILoch Ilaree Is imore thanl i(lle fal)le! Life’s changes -ex, its (liscord(s stun, Its glring suInshiine blii(leth, An(le )lest is he \ ho oil his \w-ay That fonllt of healinlg fin(leth! The sha(lo\s of a humble(d vill An(l contrite heart are o’er it; Go retad its le,-egedl-” TRUST’ IN (;OD” On Faithl’s \hite stones before it. TO MIY SISTEI; \‘I’I’H A C()PY ()F ” SUI’ERNATUR ALIISM ()F

NE\V EN(;LANI).” I)E.\tR SIls’ER!-\hile the \wise andl sage Turn ecol(dl\
from my 1)iay ful 1)age, Anid couIt it strange that rip)ened( age ShIould stool) to boy hoo(l’s follyv; I kInow\ that thou \vilt judige arii,ht Of all x-hich miales the heart mIIOIr-e light, Or lenI(s onIe star-gleamI to the night Of clou(le(l lelanchloly. Aay 'ith weary cares an(l themes!

Swving \id(le the moonlit gate of d(Ireams! Leave free once nmore the lan(l \hich teems \Yith \onder-s a(nd lolniances! \her-e thou, ithl clear discerninig e-es, Shalt rightly rea(l the truth \hichl lies Beneath the quaintly masking guise Of \ild and \wizard(l fancies. Lo! once again our feet we set ()n still \reen \oo(l-)aths, t\ilight \et, I)’- lonel\

1)oolks, \hose \aters fr-et ‘The roots of sl)ectr-al l)eeches; I Ile,oll S.

Page 347 view page image

347 A,oain the hear-t-fir-e glimniers o’er Home’s white\-ashe(l \-all an( painte(l floor, An(l youing eCes \i(leninig to the lore Of faeri-,-folks an(l \witches. Dear heart!-the legend( is not \ain W\hiich lghts that hIol heartll again, And calling l)ack fromi care ain(l p)ain, And (Iecath’s funereal saillness, Dr\ws roun(l its old fmiiliar I)lacze The cluste-ing gr()ul)s of hall)l)ierl- (lays, And lends to sol)e-r manho)(l’s gaze A gIllmt)se of chil(lish glad(nless. Andl, kno\x-ing ho\
may life ha(l I)een A weca-y \x-or-k of toIl(lue ian(l I)el, A I(Oig, harsh sti-ife \ith stroI)ng-\ille(l men, ThI()U \ilt nO()t clhi(le 11IN
tuLning To COIn, at times, anll i(le Ihynle, To) I)luck a fio-er-fro()i chil(ll)(Id’s clime, Or listen, at Life’s ni)ooia1ya chime, For the s\eet Il)ells of \Iorning! AU,TU-NIN THOU(;HTIS. FR()0 ” MAR(;AE.T’ SMII’H, J()URNAI,.” (;< i,l hathl the S)rin -, witlh all its floweers, An 1(1 thie tt Suinller’s l)o1nl) an(l sho\, And( AutumIl,, in his lealless l)o\ers, Is \waiting for the \NVinter’s sno. T said to Eaothl, so coldl aIn(l gray, “An emll)lem of im-self thou arl;” “Not so,” the Ear-th (l(id seem to sIy, “For Si)ring shall \-armi my frozen hea,rt.” I soothe Ii, \intr-\ slcel) \ithl (Ireams Of -ar-iier sun an(l softer rain, An(l \wait to hear the so111(1 of streams And( songs of imerry hii-(ls agailn.

ltt tlhout, from \-whom the SI)n-iig hatlh gone, For \ homi the flo\er-s no longer blo\, \Vho stan(lest bIlighte(I an(l forlorn, Like AutLmin \-aiting for the sol\V: ,4iiliiiiili Tlitil,,,hts.

Page 348 view page image

348 No hope is thine of sunnier hours, Thy Winter shall no more departNo Spring revive thy wasted flowers, Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart. LIKE

AUTUMN WAITING FOR THE SNOW. CALEF IN BOSTON. I 692. IN the solemn days of old, Two men met in Boston town, One a tradesman frank and bold, One a preacher of renown. Miscellaiieous.

Page 349 view page image

Calef in Boston. Cried the last, in bitter tone, “Poisoner of the wells of truth! Satan’s hireling, thou hast sown With his tares the heart of youth!” Spake the simple trades man then, “God be judge’twixt thou and me; All thou knoweth of truth hath been Once a lie to men like thee.

“Falsehoods which we spurn to-day Were the truths of long ago; Let the dead boughs fall away, Fresher shall the living grow. nd God is light, rest secure; ve the right, love endure. IN THE ANCIENT BURYING-GROUND. “Of your spectral puppet play I have traced the cunning wires; Come what will, I needs must say, God is true, and ye are liars.” When the thought of man is free, Error fears its lightest tones; So the priest cried, “Sadducee!”

And the people took up stones. In the ancient burying-ground, Side by side the twain now lie,One with humble grassy mound, One with marbles pale and high. 349

Page 350 view page image

350 iTIA a u c’oIS. But the Lor(l hath blest the seed \Vhich that tradclesmian scattered then, And the pl)reacher’s spl)ectr-al creed Chills no miore the blood of men. Let us trust, to one is known Perfect love which casts out fear, While the other’s joys atone For the wrong he suffered here. TO PIUS IX.50 THE cannon’s l)razen lipls are cold; No re(l shell blazes downv the air; An(l street and to\wer, and( teml)le ol(l, Are silent as despair. The Lombard stands no more at b)ay, Rome’s fresh y)oung life has )led( in vain; The ra\vens scattere(l by the (lday Come back witlh night again. Now, while the fr-atricides of France Are treading on the neck of Rome, Hider at Gaeta,-seize thy chance! Coward and cruel, come! Creel) now from Naples’ bloody skirt; Thy mumnmer’s part was acted well, WVhile Rome, with steel an(l fire begirt, Before thy crusa(le fell!

Her (leath-groans answeredcl to thy pI)raye-r; Thy chanlt, the (Irumn an(l bugle-call; Thy lights, the burning v illa’s glare; Thy bead(s, the shell an(l ball! Let Austria clear thv w\ay, with hands Foul from Ancona’s cruel sack, And Naples, with his (lastar(l bands Of murderers, lead thee back!

Rome’s lips are dlunb; the orphan’s wail, The mother’s shr-iek, thou mayst not hear Abov\e the faithless Frenchman’s hail, The unsexed shlaveling’s cheer! 350

Page 351 view page image

To Pills IV.’ Go, bind on Rome her cast-off weight, The double curse of crook andi crown, Though xwomani’s sco-rn an(l manihood’s hate From w\all and( roof flash d(lown! Nor heed those bloocl-stains onl thle wall, Not Tiber’s flood can washl away, Where, in thy stately (2uirinal, Thy manglecl X ictims lay! Let the w\orld murmur; let its cry Of horror and disgust he hear-(l; Truth staIn(ls alone; thy cowardl lie Is I)acke(l by lance and sword! The cannon of St. Angelo, And clianting priest and(
clanging bell, An(l l)eat of drum aind bu,gle b)low, Shall greet thy coming \ well! Let lips of iron and tongues of slasves Fit welcome gi\ e thee;-for her part, Rome, frow\vning o’er her new-ma(le gra\es, Shall curse thee fromn her heart! No wreaths of sadcl Campagna’s flo\vers Shall childhood( in thy i) pathway fling; No garlands from their ravaged( bowers Shall Terni’s mai(lens bring; But, hateful as that tyrant old, The mocking witness of his crime, In thee shall loathing eyes behold Thie Nero of our time! Stand wnhere Rome’s blood wVas freest shed, Mlock Heav\en wvithl imp)ious thanks, an(l call Its curses on the patriot (lead, Its blessings on the Gaul! Or sit upon thy throne of lies, A poo-r, mean id(lol, bloo(d-)esmeare(1, \7’hol even its wvorshil)l)ers d(lespise, Unhonoredl, unlrevere(l! 351

Page 352 view page image

H~ise/Alilticous. Yet, Scandal of the \Vorld! from thee One needful truth mankind shall learn,That kings and priests to Liberty And God are false in turn. Earth wearies of them; and the long Meek sufferance of the Heavens doth fail; \Voe for weak tyrants, when the strong WVake, struggle, and prevail! Not vainly Roman hearts have bled To feed( the Crozier an(l the Crowvn, If, roused thereby, the \vorld shall tread The t\in-born vampires (lowvn! ELLIOTT.5’ HANDS off! thou tithe-fat plunderer! )play No trick of priestcraft here! Back, puny lordling! dlarest thou lay A hand on Elliott’s bier? Alive, your rank and i)omp, as dust, Beneath his feet he trod: He knew the locust swarm that cursed The harvest-fields of God. On these pale lips, the smothered thought \Which Engla(nd’s millions feel, A fierce and fearful sl)len(dor caught, As from his forge the steel.

Strong-armedl as Thor, a shower of fire His smitten anvil flung-; God’s curse, Earthl’s wrong, dumb Hunger’s ire, He gave them all a tongue! Then let the poor mnan’s horny hands Bear up the mighty dlea(l, And labor’s swart and stalwvart ban(ds Behind as mourners treald. Leas e cant and craft their baptized bounds, Leave rank its minster floor; Give England’s green and dlaisic(d grounds The poet of the poor! Lay dowsn upon his Sheaf’s green verge That brave ol( heart of oak, With fittinig dirge from sound(ling forge, And pall of furnace smoke! 35 2

Page 353 view page image

353 WVhere whirls the stone its dizzy rounds, And axe and sledge are swung, Andl, timing to their stormy sounds, His stormy lays are sung.

There let the peasant’s step be heard, The grinder chant his rhyme; Nor patron’s praise nor dainty word Befits the man or time. No soft lament nor dreamer’s sigh For him whose words were bread,The Runic rhyme and spell whereby The foodless poor were fed! Pile up thy tombs of rank and pride, O

England, as thou wilt! \With pomp to nameless worth denied, Emblazon titled guilt! No part or lot in these we claim But, o’er the sounding wave, A common right to Elliott’s name, A freehold in his grave! ICHABOD!

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore! The glory from his gray hairs gone Forevermore! Revile him not, the Tempter hath A snare for all; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall! 0, dumb be passion’s stormy rage, WVhen he who might Hav-e lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night. Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark, From hope and heaven!

Let not the land once proud of him Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, Dishonored brow. Icha,)od.

Page 354 view page image

3’iscel[/ilClteos. But let its huLit)le( solns, instead, Fromi sea to lake, A long laiment, as for the (leald, In sadness make. Of all Bve lo-e(l an(1 honore(l, naught Sav-e I)ocr -remainis,A fallen angel’s l)ri(le of thiou-ght, Still strong in chains. All else is goine; fromn those great eyes The soul has file(l: WVhen faith is lost, \heil honor (lies, The manl is dleadl! Then, I)ay the ireeI-eIce of ol(d (lays To his dlea(l fame; \Walk backar-(l, with averted gaze, An(l hi(le the shame! THE

CHRISTIAN TOURISTS.52 No aimless \anderer-s, 1)y the fiend Unrest Goaded from shore to shore; No schoolmten, turning, in their classic quest, The leaves of empil)re o’er. Simple of faith, and bearing in their hearts The love of inan and( God, Isles of old song, the Moslem’s ancient imarts, Andi Scythia’s stel)lppes, they tro(ld. WVhere the long shaclo\vs of the fir an(l )ine In the night sun are cast, And the deep heart of manyl a Norlan(l mine Quakes at each riving blast; Where, in barbaric gran(leur, Mosk\va stan(Is, A baptized Scythian queen, With Europe’s arts and( Asia’s je\velled halnd(s, The North and East betveen! Where still, through vales of Grecian fal)le, stray The classic forms of yore, And beauty smiles, netv risen from the spray, And Dian steeps once more; Where every tongue in Smyrna’s mar-t resounL(Is; And Stamboul f-romin the sea Lifts her tall minarets ox er burial-groun(Is Black with the cypress-tree! 354

Page 355 view page image

355 From MIalta’s teml)les to the gates of Romne, Follo\w ing the track of P’aul, And \ here the Alp)s g,ird rou(nd the S\vitzer’s home Their vast, eternal \all; They p)aused not l)\ the ruins of old timie, The) scanne(l no p)ictures rare, Nor lingered w hhere the sno\v-locked mountains climl) The cold abyss of air! But unto prisons, A\here men lay in chains, To haunts -\here Hunger l)ine(ld, To kings and courts forgetful of the 1)ains And w\ ants of human-kind, Scatteriing sw\eet wor(Is, and q(uiet dlee(ls of good, Along their l\ay, like flo\wers, Or pleadlin, as Chlrist’s freeimen only could, \rith 1)rinces and faith i)ooers Their single aim the purpose to fulfil Of Truth, from dlay to day, Simi)ly obedient to its g(uidlintg vill, They held their p1)ilgrim w\ay. Yet dreami not, hence, the beautiful an(d old \NWere \aste(l on their sight, \Vho in the school of Christ had learned( to hold All out\ar(1 things aright. Not less to them the breath of vine-ard(s l)lown From off the Cyprian shore, Not less for them the Alp)s in sunset shone, That man thev valued( more. A life of b)eauty lends to all it sees The b)eautv of its thought; And fairest forms and s\weetest harmonies Alake glad its flay, unsought. In sweet accordaincy of praise and love, The singing \aters run And sunset mountains wear in light above The smile of duty done; Sure stands the promise, ever to the meek A heritage is given; Nor lose the Earth \ho, single-hearted, seek The righteousness of Heavene! Tlit, Yt)llj-lsls.

Page 356 view page image

WELL speed thy mission, bold Iconoclast! Yet all unworthy of its trust thou art, If, with dry eye, and cold, unloving heart, Thou tread’st the soleminn Pantheon of the Past, By the great Future’s dazzling hope made blind To all the beauty, power, and truth behind. Not without reverent awe shouldst thou put by The cypress branches and the amaranth blooms, Where, with clasped hands of prayer, upon their tombs The effigies of old confessors lie, God’s witnesses; the voices of His will, Heard in the slow march of the centuries still! Such were the men at whose rebuking frown, Dark with God’s wrath, the tyrant’s knee went down; Such from the terrors of the guilty drew The vassal’s freedom and the poor man’s due. St. Anselm (may he rest forevermore In Heaven’s sweet peace!) forbade, of old, the sale Of men as slaves, and from the sacred pale Hurled the Northumbrian buyers of the poor. To ransom souls from bonds and evil fate St. Ambrose melted down the sacred plate, Image of saint, the chalice, and the pix, Crosses of gold, and silver candlesticks. “MAN IS WORTH MORE THAN

TEMPLES!” he replied To such as came his holy work to chide. And brave Cesarius, stripping altars bare, And coining from the Abbey’s golden hoard The captive’s freedom, answered to the prayer Or threat of those whose fierce zeal for the Lord Stifled their love of man,-” An earthen dish The last sard supper of the Master bore: Most miserable sinners! do ye wish More than your Lord, and grudge His dying poor

Page 357 view page image

The Peace Conzelntaio ait Brisselzs. What your own pride and not His need requires? Souls, than these shining gauds, He values more; Mercy-, not sacr ifice, His heart desires!” O faithful worthies! resting far behind In your dark ages, since ye fell asleep, MAuch has been done for truth and human-kind,Shadows are scattered wvherein ye groped blind; M\an claims his birthright, freer pulses leap Through peoples driven in your day like sheep; Yet, like your own, our age’s sphere of light, Though widening still, is walled around by night; With slow, reluctant eye, the Church has read, Sceptic at heart, the lessons of its Head; Counting, too oft, its liv ing imemibers less Than the wall’s garnish and the pulpit’s dress \VNorld-moving zeal, wAith powver to bless and feed Life’s fainting pilgrims, to their utter need, Instead of bread, holds out the stone of creed; Sect builds and worships where its wealth and pride And vanity stand shrined and deified, Careless that in the shadow of its walls God’s living temple into ruin falls. W\Ve need, methinks, the prophet-hero still, Saints true of life, and martyrs strong of will, To tread the land, even now, as Xavier trod The streets of Goa, barefoot, with his bell, Proclaiming freedom in the name of God, And startling t rants with the fear of hell Soft words, smooth prophecies, are doubtless well But to rebuke the age’s popular crime, We need the souls of fire, the hearts of that old time! THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS. STILL in thy streets, 0

Paris! doth the stain Of blood defy the cleansing autumn rain; Still breaks the smoke Messina’s ruins through, And Naples mourns that new Bartholomew, \When squalid beggary, for a dole of bread, At a crowned murclerer’s beck of license, fed The yawning trenches with her noble dead; Still, doomed Vienna, through thy stately halls The shell goes crashing and the red shot falls, And, leagued to crush thee, on the Danube’s side, The bearded Croat and Bosniak spearman ride; Still in that vale where Himalaya’s snow 35 7

Page 358 view page image

358 Melts round the cornfields and the vines below, The Sikh’s hot cannon, ans\eritng b)all for ball, Flames in the breach of Mloultan’s shattered wall On Chenab’s side the v ulture seeks the slain, And Sutlej paints with b)lood( its banks again. 'hat folly, then,” the faithless critic cries, \Vith sneering lip), and wvise world-knowing eyes, “\While fort to fort, and post to post, repeat The ceaseless challeinge of the war-(lrumi’s beat, And round the green earth, to the church-bell’s chime, The morning druml-roll of the camp keeps time, To dream of peace amidst a world in arms, Of swords to ploughshares changed by Scriptural charmis, Of nations, drunken wAitl the wvine of blood, Staggering to take the Ple(1ge of Brotherhood, Like tipl)plers answ\ering Father Mathew’s call, The sullen Spaniard, and the mad-cap Gaul, The bull-dog Briton, yielding but with life, The Yankee swaggering with his bowie-knife, The Russ, from banquets with the vulture shared, The blood still dripping from his amber beard, Quitting their mad Berserker (lance to hear The d(lull, meek d(Ironing of a drab-coat seer; Leaving the sport of Presidents and Kings, ANhere men for d(lice each titled gambler flings, To meet alternate on the Seine and Thames, For tea and gossip, like old country ldamnes! No! let the cravens plead the weakling’s cant, Let Cobden cipher, and let Vincent rant, Let Sturge preach peace to democratic throngs, And Burritt, stammering through his hundred tongues, Repeat, in all, his ghostly lessons o’er, Timed to the pauses of the )battery’s roar; Check Ban or Kaiser with the barricade Of “Oliv e-leaves” and Resolutions made, Spike guns with pointed Scripture-texts, and hope To capsize navies with a win(ly trope; Still shall the glory and the pomp of War Along their train the shouting millions draw; Still (lusty Labor to the passing Brave His cap shall (loff, and B13eauty’s kerchief wave Still shall the bard to Valor tune his song, Still Hero-worship kneel before the Strong; Rosy and sleek, the sable-gowned divine, O’er his third bottle of suggestive wine, To p)lumedcl and( sword(led auditors, shall prove Their trade accordant with the Law of Love; .311’st-t,llt Ili tell S.

Page 359 view page image

T/ic [[lVs h of To-t )t. 359 An(I Chtli-rchl for State, and( State for Church, shall fight, An(I I)oth agree, that Iigtt alone is Ri,ht!”

Despl)ite of sneers like these, 0 faithful fe\v, \Who tdare to hol(d God’s \Nwor(1 and(l x\itness true, \hose clear-eye(l faith transceinds our evil time, An(l o’er the p)resent w ildlerness of crime Sees the calmi future, with its robes of green, Its fleece-flecked miouintains, antd soft streamis betwveen, Still keel) the 1)atlh \whicih duty bi(ls ye trea(ld, IThough \orl(lly \is(lomi shake the cautious hea(l No truth frol Hea-ven (lescen(ls uponI otur st)here, \N’ithout the greeting of the sceptic’s sneer; Denie(l an(l miocked at, till its l)lessings fall, Coiimmon as dcle\v and( sunshine, ov-er all. Then, o’er Earth’s \ar-fiel(l, till the strife shall cease, Like \Iorven’s harl-)er-s, sing )our song of peace As in old fablle rang the Thli-acian’s lI-re, Midlst ho\l of fiend(s and roar of penal fire, Till the fierce (lin to p)leasing murmuil-s fell, An(l love subd(lue(l the ma(ldlenled hieart of hell. Lend(l, once again, that holy sonig a tongue, \V hich the gladl angels of the A(lv-ent sung, Their cra(dle-ainthem for the Saviour’s t)il h, Gloi)ry-to (Good, and ipeace unto the earth’ Thi-ou,h the uial (liscor(l sen(i that calminig \vord \
hicld \i anl d \i\ ave oln \vildl Genesareth heardl, Lift in Chlirist’s name His Cross against the Swvord! Not aiin the \ ision \ hichl the p)rophets sa\, Skirtin, \with green the fierv -aste of \var,, Through the hot sand-gleami, loomiung soft andi calm On the slk's rim, the fountain-shlia(ling l)alm. Still lie-Cs for Earth, \-hichl fien(ls so lo.g have trod, The great hope resting, onl the truth of (;od, Evil shall cease anid \iolence pass a\ay, Andc the tirecld -orld breathe free thr-ou,gh a long Sablbath (lay. zIth,oz.o I848. TIE -ISH OF TO-DAY. I AS
njot no\v for gold to gild \N ith mockiingi shine a wveary frame; The yearning of the mind is stilled, I asik not Ino\v for Fame. A rose-clou(l, dimly’ seen abo-e, MIelting in heaven’s blue cldepl)ths avay, 359

Page 360 view page image

J’ s c A1 c/,lalc2t s. 0, sweet, fond dream of human Loe! For thee I mnay not )play. But, bowed in lowliness of mind, I make miy humble wishes known, I only ask a will resigned, O Father, to thine own n! To-day, b)eneath thy chastening eye I crave alone for peace an(l rest, Submissive in thy hand to lie, And feel that it is best. A marvel seems the Universe, A miracle our Life an(l Death; A mystery which I cannot pierce, Around, above, beneath. In vain I task my aching brain, In vain the sage’s thought I scan, I only feel hovw seak and vain, Howv poor and blind, is man. And now\ my spirit sighs for home, Andl longs for light wvhereby to see, And, like a weary child, wvould come, O Father, unto thee! Though oft, like letters traced on sand, My weak resolves have passed asay, In mnercy lend thy helping hand Unto my prayer to-day! OUR STATE. THE Southland boasts its teeming cane, The l)rairied \West its heavy grain, And sunset’s radiant gates unfold Oil r-isinig marts and sands of gold! Rough, bleak, and hard, our little State Is scant of soil, of limnits strait; Her yellowv sands are sands alone, Her only mines are ice and stone! 36o

Page 361 view page image

SCb’t7-Tiliic aiiS fHirvcsl. FroIm Autumn frost to Ap)ril rain, Too long her w\inter f\oods coml)lain; From bu((ling flo\er to falling leaf, Her summner time is all too brief. Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands, And \wintry hills, the school-house stands, And w\hat her r-uggedcl soil dlenies, The harvest of the mindicl su)l)lies. The riches of the Commionvealth Are free, st-rong mindsis, an(l hearts of health; An(l more to her than gold or grain, The cunning hand and cultured brain. For w\ell she keel)s her ancient stock, The stubborn strength of Pilgrimn Rock; And still maintains, w\ith mil(ler-laws, And clearer light, the Good Old Cause! Nor heeds the scel)tic’s puny hands, \While near her school the church-sl)ire stanI(ls; Nor fears the bliidcled bigot’s rule, WVhile near her chlurch-sl)pire stands the school ALL’S WELL. THE clou(ds, w\hich rise with thunder, slake Our thirst-souls \vith rain The blowv most dreacldedl falls to break From off our limbs a chain; Ancd wrongs of mian to man but make The love of Godl more )plain. As through the sha(lo\y lens of even The ev e looks farthest into heaven On gleams of star and del)ths of blue The glaring suinshinie never kine\v! SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. As o’er his furrow\ed fields which lie Beneath a coldlly-dclrop)ping sky-, Yet chill with \vinter’s melted( snow, The husbaIndmani goes forth to sow. 36i

Page 362 view page image

MVisceillaneous. Thus, Freedom, on the bitter blast The ventures of thy seed we cast, And trust to warmer sun and rain To swell the germ and fill the grain. Who calls thy glorious service hard? Who deemns it not its own reward? Who, for its trials, counts it less A cause of praise and thankfulness? THE HUSBANDMAN GOES FORTH TO SOW. It may not be our lot to wield The sickle in the ripened field; Nor ours to hear, on sumnmer eves, The reaper’s song among the sheaves. Yet where our duty’s task is wrought In unison with God’s great-thought, The near and future blend in one, And whatsoe’er is willed, is done! 362

Page 363 view page image

To A. K. And ours the grateful s rvice whence Comes, lda- y) (lay, the recoinl)ense; The hope, the trust, the pulrpose stayed, The fountain and the nooinday shade. And w-ere this life the utmost splan, The onlys end andl aim of man, Better the toil of fields like these Than \wakiing dreami an(l slothful ease. But life, though falling like our grailn, Lilke that revi\es and cl sl)riings again; Andi, early-calledl, ho\w’ I)lest are they \Vho w^ait iii hlea cn their hlarvest-dlay! TO A. K. ON RECEIVIN(;\

I)ABSKET OF SEA-Ml()SSES. TH ANKS fol-thl- gift Of oceani flox\:ers, Borin wheie the g(ol(lein (1rift Of the slant sunshine faills Dow n the green, treiul()tus walls Of -ater-, to the cool still coral )o\-ers, \heLe, Iunlel-r r-ainowss of p)erl)petual sihowvers, GO(l’s gardens of the (Icel) His patient angels keel); (Gladdeningii the diim, strange solitude \NVith fairest formis and hlues, ancl thus Forever teaching, us The lesson -hich the manyN colored( sklies, The ttO\ers, andi lea\es, aii(l painted l)utterflies, The (leer’s l)ranchle(l antlers, the gaN hir(l that flings ‘The trol)ic sunishine froni its gol(tlen \ini-s, ‘The i )ig<htness of the huiman co)unteinance, its )lat- of smiles, the imagic of it g-lance, Fotre-ermorie rel)eat, In vaiie(l tones an(l s\-eet, That leauty, inll an(l of itself, is (‘-oo. 0 kin( an (lenerous fr-ien(l, o ()‘c-r whom “he sulnset hlues of Timie are cast, PaiTiitilie, u)onl tlhe o\erpalst And scattel-red clou(ls of noondlay sorrow The promise of a fairer morro-, 363

Page 364 view page image

364 Aliscellancozis. An earnest of the better life to come; The binding of the spirit broken, The warning to the erring spoken, The comfort of the sad, The eye to see, the hand to cull Of common things the beautiful, The absent heart made glad By simple gift or graceful token Of love it needs as daily food, All own one Source, and all are good! Hence, tracking sunny cove and reach, \Vhere spent waves glimmner up the beach, And toss their gifts of weed and shell From foaiiiy curve and combing swell, No unbefitting task was thine To weave these flowvers so soft and fair In unison with His design WVho lo-eth beauty everywhere; And makes in ever}

zone and clime, In ocean and in upper air, “All things beautiful in their time.” For not alone in tones of awe and power IHe speaks to man; The cloudy horror of the thunder-show\ er His rainbows span; And where the caravan \Vinds o’er the desert, leaving, as in air The crane-flock leaves, no trace of passage there, He gives the weary eye The palm-leaf shaldow for the hot noon hours, And on its branches dry Calls out the acacia’s flowers And where the (lark shaft pierces down Beneath the mountain roots, Seen by the miner’s lamp alone, The star-like crystal shoots; So, where, the \linds and waves below The coral-l)ranche6d gardens grovw, His climbing weeds and mosses show, Like foliage, on each stony bough, Of varied hues more strangely gay Thian forest leaves in autumn’s day; Thus evermore, On sky, and wave, and shore, An all-pervxaditng beauty seems to say: God’s lov e and power are one; and they, 364 Miscellaneous.

Page 365 view page image

365 \Vho, like the thunder of a sultry (a-, Smite to restore, An(l they, -who, like the gentle spin(l, up)lift The I)etals of the (le\ \et floo\evrs, and (Idrift Their p)erfumTe on the air, Alike nias serve Himi, each, with their own gift, liaking their lives a prayer THE UNQUIET

SLIEEPER. THE Hunter went forth withl his d(log and gun, In the earliest glo\ o)f the gol(len suni — The trees of the forest bent over his \a, In the changeful colo()-s o(f.\utuinn g,ay For a frost ha(l falleii the night before On the q(uiet greenness w\hich Nature \vore. .h )itter frost!-for the night was chill, And starry and (dartk, and the \win(l teas still, And so when the sun looked ()ouLt on the hills, On the stricken woods and the froste(I rills, Thle unvaried green of the landscape fled, And a Child, rich robe was given instead. bie know not whither the Hunter went, Or how the last of his (lays wvas spent; For the m()on drew nigh but he camle not back, \Vearv and faint from his forest track; An(l Iis wnife sat ldown to her frugal board, Besidcle the empl)ty seat of her lord. An(l the d(ay passed on, and the sun camne down To the hills of the west, like an angel’s crown, The sha(lows lengthened( from woodl a(nd hill, ‘Fhe mist crept upl) from the meadlow-rill, Till the broad(l sun sank, and the red light rolled All over the west, like a Nwave of gold! Yet he came not back-though the stars gave forth Their wizard light to the silent Earth; And his w\ife looked out from the lattice d(lim In the earnest manner of fear for him; And his fair-haired child on the dloor-stone stoo(l To welcome his father back from the wood! The Ul/Villt’/

Page 366 view page image

366 He came not I)ack!-N-et they foun(l himi soon, In the burniniig li,-ghlt of the niorri-O\‘S noon, In tile fixed( and x isioniless sleel) of d(leatih, N\‘hei-e the riccl leaves fell at the soft \inid’s breath; And the clog, -hose stepl) ill tile chase \-as fleet, Crioucli-eci silent aind sadl at the Huniter’s feet He sle)t in death b;-Iut his slee)p \as one \Vhich his neighil)()o-s shuddl(leredcl to look Ol)ol For his bro\ \was )laick, and( his olen ieve \Vas red \ith the sign of agonvy And they thought, as the-gaized on his features g,rim, That an evil dleed had heen clone on hilim. They l)ui-ie(l hii)m \her-e lhis fathers laicIl, By-the mioss miouii(lIs in the grave-y-arcl shade, Yet \ hisl)eris of d(loubt l)asse(l oxer the d(lea(ld, An(l b)el(lameis nmuitte-red w\hile 1)-ay-eer-s \we-e said(; And the halindcl of the sexton shook as he l)ressecl The (lamil) earthi do\n onl the Huinter’s’l)-east. The seasons )assecd-andi tile AutIumn riain An(l the colored forests returne(1 gai; “1’ -as the \er-y- e-e that the Htiunter d(lie(ld, The \in(ls \ail’(l o-er thie re hill-si(le, An(l the \reathinig liml)s of the forest sho,ok Their ire(l leaves o-er the s\ollen l)rook. There came a souind onl the night-air theil, Like a sp)irit-shiriek, to the hoimes of men, And loudler andl slihriller-it rose again, Lite the fearful cry of thile matl \ ithi l)ain; And trembled( alike the tijid and( t)riave, For they kncev that it came from the Hunter-‘s grave! And eCe-C- y-eair w\ hen AuttumnL fliings Its l)eautifuil riob)e ()on crieated( thini,s, \‘hen P’isceita(tqua’s tid(le is ttiurl-i(l ith rain And( Coche(o’s \oo(ls are ell()\v again, Thallt cry is hecl-(l fl-r()oml the gra\e-aid(l earth, Like the ho\l of a deimon str-ugglilng for-th! MIETACOM. RED as the bannier \hich eishrouclds ‘Thie arii)r-(lea(l \wlen str-ife is (lone, 1)-ol)ken mass o()f ci-ims(o)n cl()u(ls Ilung, o\ er the del)ar-ted suin. ll”oll S.

Page 367 view page image

367 The shado\- o()f the -estein b hill Crel)t s\ iftl- (lo\ n, a(nd (larklI-still, As if a sull’en l\ -a-e of night \Vere rushing on the I)ale twilig,-ht, The forest-o)pening,s gre\ mIoI-re (lim, As glimpses of the arching )lue An( \alking stars came softl\ through The rifts of mana giant liml). Abo\e the -et and tangle(l s\amp \-lite -al)ors gatihered( thick and ldami), An(I through their cloudy\ -curtaining Flapl)ped many-a )-bro\n an(l dusky win - - l)inions that flan the moonless (dulin, t)ut foldl them at the Iising, sUi! Beneath the closiing -eil of night, And leafy I)ou,- and cuiling fog, \-ith his fe\ \ a-riors rainge(l in siglhtScarred rielics of his latest fight R<este(l the fier-

\N\ampl)anoag. He leanIedc u)pon his loa(lded( gun, \m\m ith its recent \
ork of death, An(d, save the str-ugg,liing of his breath That, slo\v aid Ilari, an(l long-suppresse(l, Shookl the (latm)) fol(ls ar-ound his.breast, An ey-e, that -as unuse(l to scan TIhe sterner m)oo(ls of tlat (lalrk nmaint, Had (leemec(l his tall an(l silent formXNith hi(liden I)assioi fierce ain(d \arm, \Nith tllhat fixed e\e, as still ani(l daik As cloudls \which eil their lightningi sal)irkIThat of somle forest-chaiml)ion \Whom suldden (ldeath had l)assed( upl)onA giaint frozen into stone. Son of the thrli-o d(l Sachem,-thou, TIlhe sternest of the forest lkings,Sha’ill the scorinel l)ple one tr;tnil)le Io\oV, Utiai)ibushle(l, ()n thIy i))ounttain’s l)ro\  Yea, driive his -ile antI(
halte(d l)lo\v Ainoi)g’ th\ niatioin’s holy things, Crushling-the \
ariri-skelecton In scoIIn I)eiieathl his arn-i(tl heel, Ai(ld not a han(l l)e left to dteal A kin(lrcI \ eigcetae fiercel\ l)ytck, And( cross in )ioo(1 the Sl)()iltcr’s track? lie started,- for-a sulddel shot Camie booming through the forest-tr-ees

Page 368 view page image

Ml /isc/lltlliCallS. The thunder of the fierce Yengeese: It passed away, and injured not But, to the Sachema’s browxv it brought The token of his lion thought. He stood erect-his dark eye burned, As if to meteor-brightness turne(l; And o’er his forehead passed the frown Of an archangel stricken (down, Ruined andl lost, yet chainless still \VNeakened of power but strong of will It passed a sudden tremor came LIike ague o’er his giant frame,It was not terror he had stood For hours, with death in grim attendance, NVhen moccasins g-rewv stiff with bloo(ld, And throughl the clearing’s midnight flame, Dark, as a storm, the Pequod came, His redl right arm their strong dependence\Vhen thrilling through the forest gloom The onset cry of ” MIetacom!” Rang, on the red and smoky air!No it was agony which passed Upon his soul the strong man’s last And fearful struggle with despair. He turned him to his trustiest oneThe ol0(
atnd w\ar-triecl Annatwon”Brother” the favorel wvarrior stoo(l In huslhed an(l listening attitude This night the Vision-Spi)rit hath Unrolle(l the scroll of fate before me; And cre the sunrise comiethl, Death \Will -a\ve his duskl pinion o’er me! Na-, statrt not -well I kno\ th faith: Thy \e\Cl)(o now ma kee1) its slheatl; lIut lenl the bo()(lefuLi miorning )breaks, And the green forest \idely wakes Unto the ro1tr of l,Inglisli thuI(lter, Then, trutste(l I)r-otler-, I)e it thine To burst uil)o the f(ote nn’s line AnI( ren(l his se-lie(l stilenllgthl asundler. Perchance tlh\self (and v et a fewv Of faitlful ones lL sti-uggl,,e thirough, An(l, rall-ing on the \oo(lel plai), Strike (leep for vengeance once again, Offer ul) in l)ale-face 1)loo0( An offering to the Indlian’s Go(l.” 36S

Page 369 view page image

369 A musket shot a sharp), quick y’ell, And then the stifled groan of pain, Told that another red man fell, And blazed a sudden light again Across that kingly brow and eye, Like lightning on a clouded sky,And a low growvl, like that which thrills The hunterof the Eastern hills, Burst through clenched teeth and rigid lipAnd when the great chief sp)oke aga in His deep voice shook beneath its rein, And wrath and grief held fellowship. “Brother! methought when as but now I pondered onl my nation’s wrong, With sadness on his shadowy b)row My father’s spirit passed along He pointed to the far southwest, Where sunset’s gold was growving dim, And seenled to beckon me to him, And to the forests of the blest! My father loved the whlite men, \when They were but children, shelterless For his great spirit at distress Melted to \oman’s tendernessNor was it given him to know That children whom he cherished then Woulld rise at length, like armed men, To work his p)eople’s overthrow. Yet thus it is;;-the God before Whose awful shrine the pale ones bowv Hath frowned upon and given o’er The red man to the stranger now!A few more Inoons, and there will be No gathering to the council-tree The scorched earth, the blackeined log, The naked bones of warriors slain, Be the sole relics whichl remain Of the once mighty WVaml)panoag! ‘T’he forests of our hunting-land(. With all their old and solemn green, Will )bow before the Spoiler’s axe, The plough displace the hunter’s tracks, .Anld the tall l)ratyer-house steep)le stand(l Where the Great Spirit’s shrine hath been! “Yet, brother, from this awful hour The dying curse of Mletacom

Page 370 view page image

370 Shall liniigei- \ith atl)idcing p)o'er Ul)on the sl)()oilels of miy home. The fearful \ eil of tilin(s to coIme B-Kitchtian’s hand( is lifted( firoHm The shadow\ s of thile cmil)lo \ 0 eci s And I canl see mor-e clcalrlN through Than e\ er -‘isioined Io\-ahl (di(l, f’or all the future coimes untl)id( \Yet \elcomie to m\y trancd vl \ie, As b)attle--ell to \ar-iol-ear-s! FI-roin st-eami and lake aind hunitingh-hill Our-tri)es imay \vanishi like a (recam, Andc\ e-en my 1dark cut-se imay seemi Like i(dle -in(s w\hen Hea\en is still No )odeful harl)iinLer of ill, But fierce-than thle (lo\nright thlunderi \Vhlen -a\ \ s the mountailn-rock asu(lnder, Atd(I ri\en pi)ie lland klo()tte(I oak Are reeling to the feclrful stirokle, That curse shall \orlr its masterl’s \ill! The l)ed of y,on blue mountaiin steicail Shall i)our a cdarker ti(e tlan ria  The sea shall catch its hi)oo(i ecl stain, Ancld )roa(ll\ onl its 1)banks shall.leam The steel of those \ 1)o sll()ll(l )e I)rothers\ea, those \lhomlll onc( e f(onl(l l)lar t lnursed Shall imeet in strife, like fien(ls cuCtII-se(l, Ancl tranpl)le (lo\n the once lo\ec(l forim, \Vhie -et \ith l)reathin’ l)passion \ ar-ti, As fie-celI-as the\ \0ul(l ainother’s! The mot-nilg star sat (liml- on The ligihtecl ecisterin horizonThle dcllyl, -laire of le\ elle gun Came stir-eakini, thl-()iulh tlhe t\ilight hlize, And nal1e(d to its 1re((lcst 1)iize A ihund(l-e(l \x-1i)-l(rs SlIIkM in vieN: One dark re(l ai-i ias toss(ed(l on hi  One giant shout carme h rls(1 thi 10kh The clan,ol-an(l the charnll’i-cry, Just as rrc-(ss thle scattetring -loomi, Recl as the niakel h llii(I of Dooim, Thc ELn,lisih oll-iu h-tletld ))The iarm  the \(ice (of MIetacomi-! One p)iercing shl-iel  one xenigeful -iell, Sent like an art-ow to the sky, Told when the hunter-monoarchl fell I lie,olls.

Page 371 view page image

37 ‘lHE 5 IUIDEIZEI) LAI)-. A I) \Rk-HLUI. L:I) 1) i act InChloI-ri(les \-ithin the still al(l io()inliT,ht l)ay, A i( n ron(l its l)laickL, 1)ortentous si(les The \-a-es lilke li\ill n cl-ettu ies )lay! An(l close at liand4 a tall shi) lies, A vo\ a-Ce’ fromi the Spatinislh \ain, La(len \ itlh rol(l aii(l lil/crclhi1an(lise Shle‘11 nie’er I-eturin (gai n T’Fhe fisher in his seaw\ai-(l slkiff Creepls stealthilyl (long tilhe shiore \‘ithin the sha(lo\ of thle clff, \-here leel haI ne-er ploughe(l hefore He tuiirn hii f-romi that straniiger-l)ark An(l hurries (lo\-n tlhe sile-ry hay-, \Wheire like a (lemioln still an(l (lark, She \atches o’er hler )rey. * ‘I’he li(iniglit caime.i-A (lash (of oatrs l)role on thle oceaIi-stilllness theln, Al(l s\epl)t to-iar-(l the -ocly-shiores ‘lhe hfierc \ild( forms of outla\we(d i)l;The tenants of this feairfuil shil), (rI(11l)e(1 stran gely i the p1)ale mioonlighit1)aI-k, ir-ol hr-o\ n)(l )ear-(le(a lil), (;ihastlI- -ithi stoIll m a11(l f,,-igt. ‘Fhey- reach the shore, -l)ut \ho is she, ‘Fihe \hite-rol)e(1 olne they )bear along? She slh-ieks she struggles to b)e free Go( shiel(l that gelntle olie fi-(miii \vrong; It imay not be, those l)irate imen Aloig( the hlshle(l, (leserte(1 street Ha-e C)o-orne her to a naro\w g)-len Scarce trod by humanl feet. * Ani(l there the ruLffials mIuLr(ler-e(l her, \ hein not an e-e, sa\ e Heav’en’s, b)ehel(l, Ask of the shut(l(le ili,g illager \N’hat sounL(IS tl)oll the iigh,lt air sw\elle(l: Tlitl,

Page 372 view page image

MJisc/lla,c0olis. Woman’s long shriek of inortal fear Her \vild al)l)eal to hearts of stone, The oath-the taunt the brutal jeer The pistol-shot-the groan! \Vith shout a(nd jest and losel song, From sax age tongues which knew no rein, The stained with murdler p)assed along And soug,ht their ocean-homie again AncI all the night their revel came In hoarse and sullen murmurs on, A yell rang upl) a burst of flame T’he Sp)anish shiip was gone The ilorning light camie red and fast Along the still and blushing sea; The phantomns of the night had passed That ocean-robber where was she? Her sails \-ere reaching from the winld, Her crimson bainner-fold(s were stirred; And ever and anoni behind Her shouting crew were heard. Then came the village-(dwellers forth An(l sought with fear the fatal glen The stain of )blood-the trampl)led earth Told where the deed( of death had t)een.

They found a grave a newN-maIle one \ ith bloody sabres hollowed( out, And shadovwedl from the searching sunII By tall trees round(l about. The, left the hapless stranger there; The\ knew her sleep would be as well As if the priest had poured his prayer Above lher, fith the funeral-bell. The fe\ l)poor rites which man can pay Are felt not by the lonely sleeper The cldeaf, unconscious ear of clay Heeds not the lining w\eeper. They tell a tale those sea-worn men Who dwell along that rocky coastOf sights and sounds within the glen, Of midnight shriek and gliding ghost. 3 7 2

Page 373 view page image

The IfI’irtt G(tillcrl-i’rl. Aud ohi! if ever from their chill And (Idr-eamless sleel) the deadc arise, That xictilml of ulnhallo\ed( ill Migiht w\ake to lihuman ec-es! They sa-that often when the morn Is strugg,linig with the gloomy\ even, And oxver mioon and stars is (lra\vn The curtain of a cloudcled hleaen, Strang,e sounds swvell ul) the na rrov glen, As if that robl)er-cre\v \ere there The hellishl laugh-the shouts of mien An(d \-oman’s dcinig p)raye-r! THE WNEIlD GATHERING. A TRUMIPET
inl the darkness b)lon  A peal upon the air The church ard-l ans\wers to its tone \Vith )bod(ling shriek an(d \ail and groan The deadcl are gliding there! It rose upl)on the still midnigiht, A suiimmons loing anid clear 

T’Fhe \wakeful slhuddereld ith affright The clreanming sleeper spl)rang ul)r-ight AI(l l)ressed his stunning1i ear. The Indclian, w-here his serpent eye Beneath the grieein-\oo(l shone, Started, andi tossed his arms on high, Andi ans\veredl, with his o\vii wil( cry, The sk\ s unearthll-tonie. The 1i(l hirds rose in startled flocks As the long trumLi )et s\elled; And(‘ loudll-from their ol(l, gray rocks The gaunt, fierce volf and caxverne(l fox In mutual terror yelled. There is a \ildl and haunte(d glen F’Twixt Saugus and Naumkeag’T is said of old that wvizard-imen And clemons to that sl)ot ha\e been To consecrate thleir league. 373

Page 374 view page image

~/sc TJc/;(l/it‘0IlS. A fittin, i)lace for suclh -s these’That simall a(nd sterile l)laiI, So) girt al)()ut \ith tall ol( trees \-hiclh rock au(l gr()a iu eve-ry breeze, Like spirits cursecd ith pain. It \-as the w\itch’s tr-sting-pl)lace, ‘Fle \ iza-l d’s chosen gi-ound, \-hie-e the accurse(l of huIliian race \-ithl (lelmons gathercd, face to face, I3
thlle imi(lnighlt tl-rumllll)et’s sound(. .\n(I there that night the truml)et rang, Anii(d i-ock and hill -ellie(l, And (lo\n the g,len stranIge sha(lo\s sp)rang, MIiortall an(l fienl(-a \vizardl gang Seen dimly side h-side. TheN-gathlere( ther-e fromi every land( ‘I at sleel)eth in the sunI,The-came \ith sl)ell anti( cha-rm in hanI, \waitingi thleir laste-r’s high command Slaves to the E\ il One! Fromi islanI(s of the far-off seas Frolm lIecla’s ice an(l flamneFroi N-hel-c the lo0(1 manl savage b)reeze (G)lrow hls iou thouh te tall Nor\vegian trees, Seer, \-itch, and ( izaar(l came! .\ (l f-roll the suLn\l-llnl(
of palml s I’he negro haI’ \as the-e  ‘Tle (icee-,ree, itilh hlis Ob)i charms-s’Flhe I(ndian, \ith his tattooe(l arms ,\n(1 N\ il(l a1n(1
streamiiing hair. Thle Gy)psy, -ithl her fierce, dark eyes, ‘ie \o-shl-il)l)er of flangieTh( seal-Cllel- Cout of imisteries At)o-e C a humau saicritice All-all-togethler came! * \a-, look not (loI()\vn that lighte(I (lell, ‘Fhou startled tri teller! 374

Page 375 view page image

The [Iveird Gtalieriiig. Thy Christian eye shoul(l tnever d(well On gaunt, gray witch and fiend of hell And evil Truml)eter! T3ut the traveller turned himi from his way, For he hear-(l the revellill,, An(l sa\v the re(d lighlt’s \izar(l ray Among the (lar-k-leafe(d )ranchles l)lly, Like an ulnholy thing. He knelt him on the rocks and cast A fearful glance beneath; \Wizard and hag before hiin passed, Each wilder, fiercer than the last, His heart grew cold as death! He saw the dlark-b)rowed Trumpeter, In human shap)e was he; An(l witch anld fiendl andi solcerer, WNith shriek anii laugh ain(1 curses, were Assembled at his knee. And lo! beneath his straining g,lance A light form stole alongFree, as if mov ing to the (lance, He saw her fairy steps a(l1ance Toward the evxil throng. The light along her forehead played A wvan, unearthly glare; Her cheek was p)ale beneath the shade The wAildness of her tresses made, Yet nought of fear was there! Now God have mercy on thy brain, Thou stricken traveller! Look on thy victimn once again, Bethink thee of her wrongs and pain Dost thou remember her? The traveller smote his burning brow, For he saw the wronged one thereHe knew her by her forehead’s snow, And by her large blue eye below, An(l by her wild, dark hair, 375

Page 376 view page image

3[aIis/i5( lalcols(. Slowly, yet firm she held her waty, The wizard(‘s song grew still The sorcerer left his elfish 1)lay, And hideous imp and beldamle gray Waited the stranger’s wvill. A voice came up that place of fear The Trumpeter’s hoarse tone: “Sp)eak -who art thou that comest here With brow baptized and( Cl-hristian ear, Unsummoned and aloine?” One moment, and a tremor shook Her light and graceful frame, It passed, and then her features took A fiercer and a haughtier look, As thus her answe-r caime: SI)Spirits of evil Workers of (loomn!  Lo! to your revel For vengeance I comeVengeance on him Who hath blighted my fame! Fill his cup to the )l-im With a curse w\ithout name! Let his false heart inherit The madness of mine, And I yield ye mnay spl)irit And bow at your shrine!” A sound-a mingled laugh and yell, Went howling fierce and far; A redder light shone through the dell, As if the very gates of hell Swung suddenly ajar. “Breathe then thy curse, thou daring one,’ A low, deep voice replied: “Whate’er thou askest shall be done, The burthen of thy doom upon The false one shall abide.” The maiden stood erect-her browv Grew dark as those around her, As burned upon her lip that vow Which Christian ear may never know, And the dark fetter hound her! 376

Page 377 view page image

Te trF cIrd Galizeri[g.. Ay, there she stood the holy Heaven Was looking down on herAn Angel front her l)right home d(rivenA spirit lost andl doomed and given To fiend and sorcerer! And changed howv changed!-her aspect grew, Fearful and elfish there; The warm tinge from her cheek w ithl(lrew, And one dark spot of blood-red( hue Burned on her forehead fair. Wild from her eye of madness shone The baleful fire within, As with a shrill and lifted tone She made her fearful purpose known Before the powers of sin: “Let my curse be upon him The faithless of heart! Let the smiles that have won him In frowning depart! Let his last, cherished blossom Of sympathy die. Andl the hopes of his bosom In shadows go by! Ay, curse him-but keep The poor boon of his breath Till he sigh for the sleep And the q(uiet of death! Let a viewless one haunt him With whhisper and jeer, And an evil one daunt him With phantoms of fear! Be the fiend unforgiving That follows his tread! Let him walk with the living, Yet gaze on the dead!” She ceased The dloomed one felt the spell Already,n his brain; He turned him from the wizard-dell; He prayed to Heaven; he cursed at hell; He wept-and all in vain. The night was one of mortal fear; The morning rose to him 37 7

Page 378 view page image

Miscr//la/col?s. Dark as the shroudings of a bier, As if the blessed atmosphere, Like his own soul, was dinm. He p)assed among his fellow-Imen \Vith Awidl and (Ireaimy air, For, whislpering in his ear again The horrors of the midnigh,,t glen, The d(emon found himn there. And when he would have knelt and prayed Amidst his household hand, An unseen power his spirit stayed, Andl on his moving lip was laid A hot and burning hand! The lost one in the solitude Of dreams he gazed upon, And when the holy morning glowed( Her (lark eye shone, her wild haiir flowed Between him and the sun! His brain grew wild,-and( then he die(l; Yet, ere his heart grew col(l, To the gray priest who at his si(lde The strength of p)rayer and blessing trie(l, His fearful talc was told. * They’ve boun(l the witch with many a thong The holy priest is near her; And( ever as she moves along, A murmur rises fierce and( strolng From those who hate and( fear her. She’s standing up for sacrifice Beneath the gallows-tree; The silent town beneath her lies, Above her are the summer skies, Far off the quiet sea. So young so frail so very fair Why should the victim die? Look on her brow!-the red stain there Burns underneath her tangled hair And mark her fiery eye! 378

Page 379 view page image

The Black Fax. A thousand eyes are looking u) In scorn and hate to her; A bony hand hath coiled the rope, And yawns upon the green hill’s slope The witch’s sepulchre! Ha! she hath spurned both priest and book Her hand is tossed onil highHer curse is loud, she will not brook The impatient crowd’s abiding look Hark! how she shrieks to die! Up up-oine struggle-all is done! One groan-the deed is wrought! Wo for the wronged and fallen one!

Her corse is blackened in the sun, Her spirit trace it not! THE BLACK FOX.

IT was a cold and cruel night, Some fourscore years ago, The clouds across the winter sky Were scudding to and fro; The air above was cold and keen, The earth was white below. Around an ancient fireplace A happy household drew; The husband and his own goodwife, And children not a few; And bent above the spinning-wheel The aged grandame too. The firelight reddened all the room, It rose so high and strong, And mirth was in each pleasant eye Within that household throng; And while the grandame turned her wheel The good man hummed a song. At length spoke up a fair-haired girl, Some seven summers old, “Now, grandame, tell the tale again Which yesterday you told; Ab)out the Black Fox and the men Who followed( him so )ol(l,” 379

Page 380 view page image

380 ” Yes, tell it,” said a (lark-eyed l)oy, And ” Tell it,” said his brother; “Just tell the story of the Fox, We X-ill not ask another.” And all the children gathered close Around their old grandmother. Then lightly in her withered hands The grandame turned her reel, And when the thread was wound away She set aside her wheel, An(l smiled with that peculiar joy The old and happy feel. “‘T is more than sixty years ago Since first the Fox was seen ‘T was in the winter of the year, When not a leaf was green, Save where the dark old hemlock stood The naked oaks between. ” My father saw the creature first, One bitter winter’s dayIt passed so near that he could see Its fiery eyeballs play, And well he knew an evil thing, And foul, had crossed his way. “A hunter like my father then We never more shall seeThe mountain-cat was not more swift Of eye and foot than he: His aiml was fatal in the air And on the tallest tree. ” Yet close beneath his rea(ly aim The Black Fox hurried on. And when the forest echoes mocked The sharp voice of his gun, The creature gave a frightful yell, Long, loud, but only one. “And there was something horrible And fiendish in that yell; Our good old parson heard it once, And I have heard him tell That it might well be likened to A fearful cry from hell, Misct,lltillcolls.

Page 381 view page image

Th/e -B4ick Fox. “Day after day that Fox was seen, He prowvled our forests through, Still glidling wild and spectre-like Before the hunter’s view; And ho\wling lou(ler than the storm \When savagely it blew. “The Indlians, when upon the wind That howl rose long andc clear, Shook their wiltl headIs mysteriously Antl muttered, as in fear; Or veiled their eyes, as if they knewv An ev-il thing was near. ” The-said it wvas a Fox accuLrst Hy vHoboiiocko’s will, T-l;t it was once a mnighty chief NVhom hattle nmight not kill, But who, for some unsl)oken crime, \WVas dloomed( to wa(nder still. That every year, w-hen all the hills \Vere white with \winter snow, AntI the ti(le of Salmon Rii-er ran The gathering ice below, His how\l was heat-cl and his form was seen Still hurrying to and fro. “At length two gallant hunter youthls, The )oast an(i pI)r-i(le of all The gayest in the hour of inirth The first at danger’s call, Our )laymiates at the village school, Our!)artners at the )all “\Vent forth to hunt the Sal)le Fox 13esid(e that haulnte(l strealm, \Where it so loig had gli(le(l like The creature of a (lream, Or like unearthly forms that (lance Under the ccld moonl)ea! ” They) went away one winter d(lay, \Wvhen all ttle air vwas \white, And( thick and( haze(l with falling snow, An(l blin(ling to the sight; They l)a(le us never fear for thelm, They wottl(l retturn b)y night, 381

Page 382 view page image

Mis-e tl(ltllaeous. “Thle night fell thick and darkly (lown, And still the storm blew on; And yet the hunters came not b)ack, Their task was vet un(lone; Nor came they with their words of cheer. Even with the morrow’s sun. “And then our old men shook their heads, And( the red Ind(ians told Their tales of evil sorcery Until our )blood( ran cold,The stories of their Powwvah seers, And withered hags of old. ” The\ told us that our hunters \Would never more returnThat they would hunt for evermore Through tangled swamp and fern, And that their last and dismal fate No mortal ear might learn. “And days and weeks passed slowly on, And yet they came not back, Nor evermore by stream or hill \Vas seen that form of black  Alas!

for those who hunted still Within its fearful track! “But when the winter p)assed away, And early flowers b)egan To bloom along the sunned hillside, And where the waters ran, There came unto my father’s door A melancholy man. ” His formn had not the sign of years, And yet his locks were white, And in his deep and restless eye There was a fearful light; And from its glance we turned away As from an add(ler’s sight. “\Ve placed our food before that man, So haggard and so wild,He thrust it from his lips as he Had been a fretful child; And when we spoke with words of cheer, MIost bitterly he smiled. 382

Page 383 view page image

The V/Yiite Mlluntazils. “He smiled(l, and( then a gush of tears, Andi then a fierce, wil(l look, Andi then he murlnured( of the Fox \Which haunted Salnmon Brook, Until his hearers every one WVith namieless terror shook. “He turned away with a frightful cry, And hurried madly on, As if the d(lark and spectral thin,, Before his path had gone: \Ve called him back, but he heeded not The kind and wvarning tone. ” He came not back to us again, l3ut the Indian hunters sai(l That far, w-here the howvling wil(lerness Its leafy tribute shed, They found our missing hunters Naked(
and cold an(l dea(l. ” Their grave they made l)eneath the shad(le’ O)f the old and solemn woo(l, \NVThere oaks t)y Time alone hewn down For centuries had stood, And left them w\ithout shroud or prayer In the dark solitude.

“i The Indcliains always shun that grave The wild (leer treads not there 

The green grass is not trampled down By catamounlt or bearThe soaring \d ild-bird turns away, Even in the upper air. For p)eopl)le said( that every year, \Vhen wsinter snows are spread All over the face of the frozen earth. And( the forest leaves are sheld, Thie SI)ectr-e Fox comes forth and howls Ahove the hunters’ hed(l.” THE \THITE MOUNTAINS. GR.AY searcher of the upper air! There’s sunshine on thy ancient walls A crown upon the forehead )are A flashing on thy waterfalls 383

Page 384 view page image

Mis/cll/zzeoals. A rainl)ow glory in the clou(ld, Upon thy awful summit bowe(l, Dim relic of the recent storm Anc music, from the leafy shrou(l Which wraps in green thy gianit fornm, Mellowve(l aicnd softened from above, Steals dlown upon the listening ear, Sweet as the maidlen’s dream of love, With soft tones melting on her ear. The time has been, gray mountailn, when Thy shadlows veile(l the red mian’s home And oxer crag andi serl)ent (leii, An( wil(l,orge, where thie stel)s of me In chase or battle mighilt not coine, The miounitain eagle li)or-e on higil The einl)lemin of the free of soul And midwal\y in the fearfuil sky Sent l)ack the In(lian’s l)attle-cry Or answ\ered( to tY e thun(ler-‘s roll. The wigwvalm fires have all )urne(l out The moccasin hathi left no track - Nor wolf nor wvil(l-deer roami ali)out The Saco or the Merrimiack. And( thou that liftest up) oil high Thine awful h)arriers to the skv, Art not the liaunite(d moulit of old, WVhen ol each crag of l)laste(l stone Some nmounltain-spirit foun(l a thronle, An(l shrieke(l from out the thick cloud(-fol(l, And atnswxere(l to the Thun(lerer-‘s cry VIhen rIolled( tile clou(l of telil)est l)y, And( jutttilng rock and( riven I)rtichi \enit (ldown )efore the a”ttlctichie. The Father of our p)eopl)le then Upon thy a\ful summiiilt tro(l, And tile re(l (I\vwellers of the glen Bovwed (lox\ni l)efore the Iindian’s (God. There, wvhen His shadow N eile(l the sky, The Thunl(lerer’s voice \s lI()oi,ng anti loud(l, Anid( the rc(l tlashes of His eye WNere picture(l on the ()‘erhianging clou(l. The Sp)irit moveth there no miore, The (Iwellers of the hill have gone, 384

Page 385 view page image

The Inlel’til’s T(ilt. The sacred groves are trampled o’er, And footprints mar the altar-stone. The white man climbs thy tallest rock And hangs him from the mossy steel), Where, trembling to the clou(l-fire’s shock, Thy ancient prison-walls unlock, And captive waters leap to light, And dancing down from height to height, Pass onward to the far-off deel). Oh, sacred to the Indian seer, (;ray altar of the (lays of ol(! Still are thy rugged features clear, As when unto my infant ear The legends of the past were told. Tales of the downward sweeping flood, Wheln bowed like reeds thy a;tcient wood, Of armed hand and spectral form, Of giants in their misty shrou(l, And voices calling long and loud In the drear pauses of the storm! Farewell! The red man’s face is turned Toward another hunting ground; For where the council-fire has burned, And o’er the sleeping warrior’s mound Another fire is kindled now: Its light is on the white man’s brow! The hunter race have passed awayAy, vanished like the morning mist, Or ldew-dclrops by the sunshine kissed,  And wherefore should the red man stay? THE INDIAN’S TALE. THE WVar-God didl not walke to strife Tihe strong men of our forest lan(l, No red hand grasped the b)attle-knife At Areouski’s high comimandl:We held no war-dclance by the (ima And red light of the creeping flame; Nor warrior yell, nor battle hymn Upon the midnight breezes came. There was no portent in the sky, No shadowv on the roundcl, bright sun, With light and( mirth aind melody The long, fair summer (lays came o0n. 385

Page 386 view page image

iAfsc(‘/l(lllc()lls. We were a hal)l)y p)eol)le tihen, Rejoicing in our lhunter imoo(); No foot-1)rints of the J)ale-face(l!enon Had(l m,-r-e(l our forest solitude. The land(l was ours this glolious lan(l With all its wealth of woold [n( streains; Our warriors strong of heart an(l han(l, Our d(laughters )e autiful as (Ireamis. When wxeariedl at thle thirsty nioon, \We knelt us where the spl)riig gushed ul), To taste our Fathel’s l)lesse(l l)oon Unlike the white iman’s l)oison cup. There camle unto mly fither-‘s lhut A wan, wealk creature of dlistress; The red( man’s (loor is never shut Against the lone an(l shelterless. And( when he knelt l)efore his feet, My father led the stranger-in; He gave him of his hunter imeat Alas! it was a d(leadly sin! The stranger’s voice was not like ours His face at first was sadly pale, Anon’t was like the yellow flowers Which trembl)le in the meadow gale. And when he laid him dclown to (lie, And murmure(l of his fatherland, My mother wiped his tearful eye, My father held his l)urninig hand He dlied( at last -the funeral yell Rang ulpward(l from his )burial so(I, An(l the ol( IPowwvah knelt to tell The tilniiigs to the white iiiaii’s Go(l The next (lay came-my fathler’s brow Grew heavy with a fearful paiin, He (1i(i not take his huntinig-l)ow He never soughit the woods again! He died even as the whlite man d(ied; My mother, she was smitten too; My sisters vanishe(l from my side, Like (liamion(ls from the sunlit dew. And( then we hear(l the Powwahs say That God( had(l sent his angel forth 386

Page 387 view page image

f/1 7 S’Yp p7c/f To s\,eCl) our ancient tril)es a\way, And poison a(nd Unl)eol)le Ea-th. And it w s so: froim (Iay to (lay The Sl)ilI it of th) l’l)Iuc wenit onAnI( tihoSe at i lmo rning l)ltlhe atil(l gty \Were (IyiI,g at the set of suI. TIhey (iet(l-()U free, I)ol(l hunters die(l I’he li ving lil,hit nlot (gix e tihem graive,s. Snvec \wlheni along thle vwatel -si(le ‘Fhlcv cast themi to tile huri-ying waves. Tle carrion crow, the ravenous beast, Tur-ned( loathing, f-romi the ghastly (tleiad \Vell might they shun the funeral feast By that (ldestro ing angel sl)read! One after one the re(l men fell, ()ur gallant war tlibe passe(l a\ay, An(l I alone am left to tell The sto-ry of its s\wift (lecay. Alone alone a withere(l leaf, Yet clin,ing, to its nake( t)lough; The I)ale race scoiirn the ag,e(l chiief, And I \ill join miy fathers now. The sl)irits of my l)eol)le I)enl( At mitnighlt fromi the solemii \West, To me their kindly trmis exten(l, To call me to tfieir hlollme of rest THIE SI’IECTRE SHII’.

THE morning light is l)reaking forth All over the dark blue sea, And the waves are changedl-they are rich with gold As the morning waves should be, And the rising winds are wandering out On their seawald 1)inions free. The bark is rea(ly, the sails are set, Antc the boat rocks on the shore.Say why (lo the passengers linger yet? Is not the farewell o’er? Do those who enter that gallant shil) Go forth to return no more? 387

Page 388 view page image

Misce/llazneous. A wailing rose by tile vwater-sidle, A young,, fair girl was there, \Vith a face as pale its the face of Death When its coffin-li(l is )are; An(l an eye as strangely beautiful As a star in the upper air.

She leaned on a youthful stranger’s arm A tall and( silent oneWVho stood in the very midst of the crox(I. Yet uttered a wordf to none; He gazed on the sea and( the waiting shi), But he gazed on them alone! The fair girl leaned on the stranger’s arm, And she wel)t as one in fear, But he heeded not the pl)aintive moan And the dropping of the tear; His eye was fixed on the stirring sea, Cold, darkly and severe! The boat wvas filled -the shore was left The farewell word was saidBut the vast crowd lingered still behind \Vith an overpowering dread; They feared that stranger and his brid(le, So pale and like the (lead. And many said that an evil pair Among their friends had gone,A d(lemon with his human prey, Fromi the quiet graveyard drawn; And a prayer was heard that the innocent Might escape the Evil One. Awvay-the good ship sped away, Out on the broad high seas, The sun upon her path before Behind, the steady l)reezeAnd there was nought in sea or sky Of fearful auguries. The d(lay passed on-the sunlight fell All slantwise from the west, And then the heavy clouds of storm Sat on the ocean’s breast; And every swelling billow mourn’d Like a living thing distressed. 388

Page 389 view page image

The Ssectre Ship. The suITn went down among the cloudIs, Tiniging with su(l(den gold, ‘iThe l)all-like shal(low of the storim), On every mihity fol(Antl then the lightning’s eye look’d forth And the red thunder rolled.

The storm came cdown upon the sea, In its surpassing dread, Rousing the white and broken surge Abfo e its rocky be(d, As if the deep was stirred beneath A giant’s viewless tread. All night the hurricane went on, And(
all along the shore The smothered cry of shipwreck’(l men Blent with the ocean’s roar; The gray-haired man ha(l scarcely known So wild a night b)efore. Morn rose upon a tossing sea, The telpest’s work was clone, And(
freely ox er land and wave Shone out the blessed sun; But w-here wVas she that merchant bark Where had the good ship gone? Men gathered on the shlore to watch The billows’ heavy swell, Hop)ing, yet fearing much, some frail Memorial might tell The fate of that disastrous ship Of friends they loved so wvell. None came the billows smoothe(l away9 And all was strangely calm, As if the very sea had felt A necromancer’s charmn; And not a trace was left behind Of violence and harm. The twilight came with sky of gold, And curtaining of night  And then a sudden cry rang out, “A ship-the ship in sight!” And lo! tall masts grew visible \Within the fading light. 399

Page 390 view page image

Miscelltineous. Near ani( iiiore near tilhe ship) camie oi, \NVith all her broad sails sprea(lThe night grew thick, but a phantom light Around her path was shed. An(l the gazers shulddered as on she caint, For against the wind she spel. 1 ay sat l )y the dim ln(l t ),ffltil laIrc Aroun(l that \
oyager thlro\wil, The up)right forms of the vwell-known crew, As pale and fixedl as stone; An(l they catlled to them, b)ut no sound caine back Save the echoe(l cry alone. The fearful stranger youth was there, And clasped in his emhrl)ace The pale and passing, sorrowful (;azed wildly in his face, Like one who had l)een w\akenet(l fromnt The silent )urial-l)lace. A shu(lder ran along the crov(wd, And a holy man knelt there, On the wet sea-san(l, an(l offere(l tip A faint an(l treml)ling l)rayer, That God wXould shiel(l his people from The spirits of the air! And lo! the vision p)assedI avway The spectre shil) the crewThe stranger aind his pallid bridie, Departed( from their view; An(l nought wvas left upon the waves Beneath the arching bl)ue. It plassed away, that vision strange, Forever from their sight, Yet long shall Naumkeag’s annals tell The story of that nightThe phantom bark-the ghostly crew The pale, encircling light. THE

SPECTRE WARRIORS. ” AWAY to your arms! for the foemen are here, The yell of the red man is loud on the ear! On-on to the garrison soldiers away, The moccasin’s track shall be bloody to-day.” 390

Page 391 view page image

Ther $c/r I Itr J > i r) s. The fortress is reache(l, they ha\ e takein their stan(l, With war-knife in gird(le, anl(I rifle in han(l;Their wives are )ehin(l tihell, the savag,e l)efore \Vill the Puritan fail at his hearthstone andl door? There’s a yell in the forest, uineirtlily and(

(irea(l, Like the shriek of a fien(l o’er the p)lace of the (leut(l; Again -how it s\wells through the forest afar Have the tril)es of the fallen il) isetl to a\tr? Ha-look! they are comin,g not cautious an(l slow, In the serpent-like mioo( of the 1)l()(o(l-seekig, foe, Nor stealing in shaldowv nor hi(ling in g’rass, But tall and uprightly and( sternly they 1)ass. “Be ready!” the watchwvordl has passe(l on the wvall The maidens have shrunk to the inne-rmost hallThe rifles are levelled-each head is l)o\ved lowvEach eye fixes steady-G(od pity the foe! They are closely at hand! Ha! the red flash has b)roke From the garrisoned wvall through a curtain of smoke, There’s a yell from the d(lying-that aiming wIas trueThe red man to more shall his hunlting 1)irsue! Look, look to the earth, as the smioke rolls avway, DI)o the (lying an(l d(lea(l on the green herl)age lay? What mean those waild glances? no slaughter is thereThe red man has gone like the miist on the air! tnharmed( as the l)o(liless air he has gone From the war-knife’s edge and( the ranger’s long gun, An(I the Puritan warrior has turne(l him awvay From the wveal)ons of war, an(l is kneeling to 1)ry! He fears that the Evil and(

Dark One is near, On an errand( of wrath, with his l)hantoms of fear; And he knows that the aim of his rifle is vain  That the spl)ectres of evil may never l)e slain! He knows that the Pow\vah has cuining an(l skill To call up the Spirit of Darkness at will; To waken the (lead in their wilderness-graves, And summons the (lemons of forest and waves. 391

Page 392 view page image

392 And he layeth the wveal)ons of )battle asi(le, And forgetteth the strength of his natural 1)ride, An(l he kneels Awith the priest l)y his garrisone(l door, That the spectres of es il may haunt him no miore! THE

LAST NORIII)(GEWOCK. SHE stood b)eneath the sha(do\v of an oa,k, Grim w\ith uncounte(d winters, an(l whose l)oug,hs Had sheltered in their youth the giant foirms Of the great chieftain’s warrior-s. She \ses fair, Even to a white man’s \ision -and( she wnore A blended grace and dignity of mien \Which might befit the daughter of a kingThe queenliness of nature. She ha(l all The magic of proportion which might haunt The dream of some rare p)ainter, or steal in Upon the musings of the statuary Like an unreal vision. She was (lark,There was no play of crimson on her cheek, Yet were her features beautiful. Her eye VWas clear and wild-and brilliant as a Ibeam Of the live sunshine; an(l her long, dark hair Sway’d in rich masses to th’ unquiet win(ld. The West wNas glad with sunset. Over all The green hills and the wil(lderness there fell A great and sudden glory.

Half the sky Was full of glorious tints, as if the home And fountain of the rainl)owv were reveale(l; And through its depth of beauty looked the star Of the blest Evening, like an angel’s eye. The Indian watclhed the sunset, and her eye Glistened one moment; then a tear fell (dowvn, For she was dreaming of her fallen raceThe mighty who had perislhed(i for her creedl Had taught her that the spirits of the ibrave And beautiful were gatlhered in the West The Red man’s Parad(lise;;aand then she sang Faintly her song of sorrowv, with a low And half-lhushe(l tone, as if she knew that those Who listened were unearthly au(ditors, And that the dead had bove(ed themselves to hear. ‘ The moons of autumn wvax mad wvane, the soun(l of swvelling floods Is b)orne upon the miournfutl \in(l, and b)ro(lly on the woo(ds .ijll’St-t,llt I lit,oil S.

Page 393 view page image

The Last ~lVoirid6greh 7,ock. The colors of the changing leaves-the fair, frail flowers of frost, Before the round and yellowv sun most beautiful are tosse(l. Thle morning breaketh with a clear, b)right 1)encilling of sky, An(d blushes through its golden clou(ls as the great sun goes by; And evening lingers in the \Vest-more beautiful than dreams \-hiclh w\hispl)er of tile SI)irit-landl, its \wilderness an(l streams i i little time-another mioon -the forest will l)e sa(1The stireamrs will mIourn the p)leasant light which int(le their journey gla(l; The miorn will faintly lighten ul), the sunli,ght gliste ( col(l, And \vane into the western sky without its autumn gol(l. ” And yet I weep not for the sign of desolation nearThe ruin of my hunter race may only ask a tear, The wailing streams will laugh again, the naked trees put on The beauty of their summer green beneath the sulnmer su0; The autumn cloud will yet again its crimson draperies fold, The star of sunset smile again a diamond set in gold! But never for their forest lake, or for their mountain path, The mighty of our race shall leave the hunting ground of Death. I know the tale my fathers told -the legend of their fameThe glory of our spotless race before the pl)ale ones came\Vhen asking fellowship of none, b)y turns the foe of all, The (leath-bolts of our vengeance fell, as Heaven’s own li,ght nings fall \Vhen at the call of Tacomet, my warrior-sire of ol(l, The war-shout of a thousand men upon the midnight rolled; And fearless and companionless our warriors stro(le alone, An(l from the big lake to the sea the green earth was their own. \Where are they now? Around their change(l iand( stranger peoplled home, Frull sadly o’er their thousan(l graves the flowers of autumn bloomThe bow of strength is buried \vithl the calumut and spear, And the spent arrow slumberetlh, forgetful of the deer The last canoe is rotting by the lake it glided o’er, \Nhen (lark-eyed maidens sweetly sang its welcome from the shore. The footprints of the hunter race from all the hills have goneTheii-offerings to the Sl)pirit-lan(l have left the altar-stoneThe ashes of the council-fire have no al)iding token 393

Page 394 view page image

394 The song of war has (lied away  the I’()wwah’s charm is broken The startling war-whool) comieth no()t upl)on the l()(l, clear tir The ancient woods are vanishing,-the l)ale mien gathel-there. “And who is left to mourn for this? -a solitary one, Whose life is waning into (ldeath like y()n(ler setting sun A broken ree(l, a fa(le(l flowvel-, that lingeretlh behin(l, To mourn al)ove its fallen race, in(l wrestle with the winl! Lo!

from the SI)irit-lant(I I hear the voices of the l)lest; The holy faces of the love(d are leaning from the West. The mighty and the beautiful the peerless ones of ol(lThey call me to their pleasant sky and to their thrones of gold; Ere the spoilers’ eye hath found me, when there are none to saveOr the evil-hearted pale-face made the free of soul a slave; Ere the step of air grow weary, or the sunny eye be dlim, The father of my people is calling me to him.” THE AERIAL (O)MENS. A LIGHT is troubling Heaven!-A strange, dull glow Is trembling like a fiery veil between The blue sky and the earth; and the far stars Glimmer but faintly through it.

Day hath left No traces of its presence, and the l)lush With which it welcomed the embrace of Night Has faded from the sky’s blue cheek, as fa(les The blush of human beauty when the tone Or look which woke its evi(lence of love Hath passed away forever. Wherefore then Burns the strange fire in Heaven? It is as if Nature’s last curse-the terrible plague of fire, Were working in her elements, and the sky Consuming like a vapor. Lo a clhaI,e! The fiery flashes sink, and all along The dim horizon of the fearful North Rests a broad crimson, like a sea of bloo(d, Untroubled by a wave. And lo -)above, B3endleth a luminous arch of pale, pure white, Clearly contrasted with the blue al)ovec And the dlark red beneath it. Glorious! How like a I)athway for the sainte(l onesThe pure an(l beautiful intellilgences Miscellellit,olls.

Page 395 view page image

fThe w1;tg’(l Oimenis. Who minister in Heaven, and offer up Their praise as incense; or, like that which rose Blefore the pilgrim-prophet, when the tret(ad Of the most holy angels l)rightene(l it, And in his diream the haunted sleepl)er saw The asce(nding and descendillng of the I)lest!

Another change. Strange, fiery forms uprise On the wide arch, and take the throngful shape Of warriors gathering to the strife on high,A dreadful marching of infernal shapes, Beings of fire with p)lumes of bloody red, With )bantner-s flapp)ing o’er their crow(le(l ranks, And long swords quiv ering up) agatinst the sky! And nowv they meet and mingle; ain(l the ear Listens with painful earnestness to catch The ring of cloven helmets and the groan Of the down-trodden, But there conies Po sound, Save a low, sullen rush upon the air, Such as the unseen wings of sl)irits make, Sweeping the void above us All is still. Yet falls each red sword fiercely, and the hoof Of the wild steed is crushing on the breast Of the o’erthrown and vanquished.‘T is at strange And awful conflict an unearthly war! It is as if the dead had risen up To battle with each other the stern strife Of spirits visible to mortal eyes. Steed, plume, and warrior vanish one by one, \Nav,ering and changing to unshapely flame; And now across the redl and fearful sky A long bright flame is trembling, like the sword Of the great Angel at the guarded gate Of Paradise, when all the sacred groves And beautiful flowers of Eclen-lan(I blushed red B1eneath its awful shadow; and the eye Of the lone outcast quailed before its glare, As from the immediate questioning of (;od. .And men are gazing on that troubled sky WVith miost unwonted earnestness, and fair And beautiful brows are redcldening in the light Of that strange vision of the upper air Even as the dwellers of Jerusalem, The leaguered( of the kolnan, when the sky Of Palestine was thronged with fiery shapes, 395

Page 396 view page image

JAisccll/aleous. And from Antonio’s tosver the mailed Je\t Sawv his own image I)ictured( in thle air, Contending vwith the heathen; and the priest Beside the Temple’s altar veiled his face From that most horlid(l phantasy, and(l hel(l The censor of his worship with a hand Shaken by terror’s palsy. It has passedAnd Heaven again is quiet; and its stars Smile (ldown serenely. There is not a stain Upon its dreamn-like loveliness of blueNo token of the fiery mystery \Which made the evening fearful. But the hearts Of those who gazed upon it, yet retain The shadow of its awe the chilling fear Of its ill-boding aspect. It is dleemed A revelation of the things to comeOf war and its calamities-the storm Of the pitched battle, and the midnight strife Of heathen inroad the devouring flame, The dripping tomahawk, the naked knife, The swart hand twining with the silken locks Of the fair girl the torture, and the bonds Of perilous captivity with those Who know not mercy, and with whom revenge Is sweeter than the cherished gift of life. 396

Page 397 view page image

N()TES. 7() [:. 1, ).t1 C I. Mo E(;l N MEOl, or Hegone,,as a leader among the Saco Indians, in the bloody .lr (f I677. He attacked and c.lptured the garrison at l’ack Point, October.2th of th.tt 3 ear* andl clt off, at the same tilne, a party of Englishmen near Saco River. 1roll.e deed sigled by this Indianl iin 604, and from other circumstances, it seems th.at, pres-iotis to the war, lie hald mingled mluch with the colonlists. On this alcc1ti1t1, he,as probably selected by the principal sachemis as their agent in the tre.t-signed in Nosember, I676. N r 2, pa,ge 3. Iatr I. de St. Castine came to Callad i.n 1644. I,eaviig his civilized companions, hIe pltnged into the great s ilderness and settled anion.g the Penobscot Indians,,near the l,lloth of their n,,ble river. He here t,ok for his vives the dattghters of the gre.lt MIodocawvando,-the m,ost powverftil sachem of the East. His castle was plhndered hy GoverlAor Andros, dtiring his reckless admilistration; and the enraged Ilaroll is supposed to hve e.xcited the Iildialns into open hostility to the English. 51,‘IE,, age 3

‘IThe oner and 1colo’de,, the gatrrison it ll.ck Point, which Mogg attacked .101 1 lunnldered. He wea.a old ma..t the period to which tlle tale relates. 5OT 4, p)ae. Mj r IPhillips, one of the principal men of the Colony. His garrison sustained a lon lll terrible sieg,e by the savages.

As a magistrate and a gentleman, he exacted (f his plebeian eigh,l))rs a remarkable degree of deference.‘1The Court R’ec,rds of the settlemient inform ils that an ildividtal was filned for the heinous lffeice of s.ayiog that ” IMajor Phillips’s mare s as.lea la as n Indian dog.” 511 5, page 3. (p.talili Haremi, of;Cgeala York, oas, for in.ly years, the terror 0 f the l’.sttrn Indians. II ooe of his exspeditioos p tlhe Kennebec River, at the lIe.il (if.1 p rty /f ranleis, he (lisc rvercd twienty of the s.va ges atsleel) )y a laIrge ile. C.tatilils’ creepili t11w.r11 them ntil hl seas cert;ini o,f his.im, hle orderedl lis me’ll to si,0: Ie oult their oljects. t’lle first disthi,irge killed or iiortally wonuded tC “I 11w,, 1lllnmber of tile unocil Ou s slee p lCrs. 7(111. 6, pI’e 3. \V,,,l Islanid, lnear the iiitith (f the Slco. It ws visited bly the Sieur die MAonts :nd (Chaiiplailn, in”I 603.”he follos ing extract, from thle j,trual of the latter, reletts to it:’-avillg left the Kenn,ebec, ve ral, along the co.ast to the westward, an.1d c.s anchor tinder a small isldh m, ner the ail.d, where e sav twenty or ~((,re nlatises. I here visited ai islanid, beautifully clothed with a file growth of forest trecs, particularly of the oak aud walnlut * a1d overspread with vines, that, in their seasopl, produ ce excellent grapes. \Ve iaied it the island of Bicchlius.”-Lcs I”i.O’l i{c Siws, C/liil/iiz Li,. 2, c. 3.

Page 398 view page image

398 N/rI’E 7, page 3. John P,onython was the son of Richard Bonython, Gent., one of the mosefficient and able magistrates of the Colony. John proved to be “a degenerate plant.” In I635, we find, by the Court Records, that, for some offence, he was fined 4os. In 1640, he was fined for abuse towards R. Gibson, the minister, and Mary his wife. Soon after he was filed for disorderly conduct in the house of his father. In 1645, the “

Great and General Court” adjuidged John Bonython outlawed, and incapable of any of his Majesty’s laws, and proclaimed him a rebel.” (Court Records of the Province, I645.) In I65:, he bade defiance to the laws of MIassachtsetts, and was again outlased. He acted independently of all law and authority; and hence, doubtless, his burlesqune title of ” The Sagamore of Saco,” w hich has come doss n to the present generatiol in the following epitaph: “Here lies P,oiythol; tle Sagamore of Saco, He lived arogue, and dieId a knave, and went to Holbomoko.” By some ieans or other, he olt.iined a l.rge estate. TIn this poem I have taken .sone liberties with hiln, not strictly warr.tnted bly historical facts, although the conduct impuited to hint is il keeping with his geleral character. Over the last years of his life lingers a deep obscurity. Eveni thie manler of his death is uncertain. He was s,lpposed to have been killed by the Idians; but this is doutibted by the able and indelfatigable author of the History of Saco and Biddeford.-Part I. p. 15. NiTuE 8, page 4 Foxwell’s Brook flows from a ma.rsh or hog, called the ” Heath,” in Saco, containing thirteen htundired acres. ( )1 this brook, and s.rrouIded by wild.and romantic scenlery, is a beautiful ssaterfall, of ilore tha.n sixty feet.

NOIE 9, 1page 6. Hiacoomes, the first Christian preacher on Alartha’s Viieyardl; for a lbiography of whom the reader is referred to Increase Mayh ew’s accoullnt of the Praying Indians, I726. The followving is related of him: “One Lord’s day, after meeting, where Hiacoomes had been preac.hing, there came in a Powwaw very angry, and said,’ I know all the meeting Indianls are liars. You say you don’t care for the Powwaws:’-then calling two or three of them by name, he railed at them, and told them they were deceived, for the Po,wwaws could kill all the meeting Indians, if they set about it. But Hiacoomes told him that he would be in the midst of all the Ponwaws in the island, and they should do the utmost they could against him; and when they shotuld do their worst bly their witchcraft to kill him, he would -ithout fear set himself agailnst then, by remembering Jehovah. He told them also he did put all the Powwass under his lheel.

Such was the faith of this good man. Nor were these Poww.ws ever able to do these Christian Indians any hurt, though others were frequently hurt and killed by them.”-Mayhev, pp. 6, 7, c. I. NOTE IO, page Io. “The tooth-ache,” says R,g,er Williaius il his o b pservations upon the language and custons of the Nesw E.ngland tiibes, is the only paine which will force their st ute hearts to cr.” He.‘fterw.irds reiu.irks that even the lIdian women never cry as he has heard “some of their mni i this palile.” NOTi II, page 12. IJztnft/canti~a/,’ l et u1s drink.” II?ekteki “

It is sveet.” J’i”[e Roger Williams’s Key to tlhe Iiidiai LaIigatge, ” i that parte of America called New Eliglaud.” London, x643, p. 35. NoT-. I2, page I3. I’etzuonzaain/,-a house g,,d, or.dunol. ” They-the Indians-have given me the iiames of thirty-seven g ds whilih I h.ve, 1ll which ini their solemue Worships they invocate!” R. Willia.ms’s Briefe Olservatious of the Custom.s, Manuners, Wor xolt,s.

Page 399 view page image

1 0 “I’S. ~ 399 ships, &c., of the Natis es, in Peace and Warre, in I.ife and Death: on all which is added Spiritual ()bservations, (eneral and Parti, tlar, of Chiefe and Special usenpoil all occasions-to all the ELnglish inhabliting these parts; yet Pleasant and Profitable to the view of all lMeie.-p…0, C. 21. NOTE 13, page 1 6. Mt. Desert Islanl, the la.tld Motuntain tpoIn which ovcrlooks Frchciain’s and lettoltscot Bay.v.

It Xas a upon this island tlh.t the Jesuits it(lc their earliest settleiltlclt. NoTE I4, piage i8. Father Hennepin, a missionary anong the Iroquois, mentions that tle Indians believed him to be a conjtrel, and that they swere particularly afraid f it )r,ight silver chalice which he had ill his possessioii. “i’ c Inillais,” says Pere Jeromie Lallania.nllt, ” fear us as the greatest sorcerers ol earth.” NOTcE I S, p)a-ge I).

oIonazeen is spoien of bIy Pcehalliti, Is “the fatiots sarrior atid clieftailn of Norridgew ock.” He eas killed ill the attack of the En,glish tpotn Norridgewock, In I724. NO)TE i6, Ipage 20. Per Ralle, or Rasles, was one of the most zealols and indefatigable of that l)and of Jesuit lIissitmaries ho, at the beilnillg of the seventeenth century, penetrated the forests of America, with the avowed object of converting the heathen.

The first religious mission of the Jesuits, to the savages in North Anmerica, was in i6i1i.’ he zeal of the fathers for the conversion of the Indians to the Catholic faith knew no botunds. For this, they plunged into the depths of the wilderness; habituated themselves to all the hardships and privations of the natis es; stuffered cold, hunger, and some of them death itself, by the extremest tortures. Pere Brebeuf, after laboring in the cause of his mission for twenty years, together with his companion, Pbre Lallamant, was burned alive. To these might be added the names of those Jesuits who were put to death by the Iroquois, -Daniel, Garnier, Bitteauix, La Riborerde, Goupil, Constantin, and Liegeouis. “For bed,”

says Father Lallamant, in his Relation de ce qai s’est dans le hays des eros, 64, c. 3, “s e have nothing but a miserable piece of bark of a tree; for notirishment, a handful or two of corn, either roasted or soaked in water, which seldom satisfies our hbtiiger; and after all, not venturing to perform even the ceremonies of our religion, without being considered as sorcerers.” Their success among the natives, however, bly no means equtalled their exertions. Pre Lallamalit says: “With respect to adult persons, in good health, there is little apparent success; on the contrary, there have bee noithing but storms and whirlwinds from that quarter.”’ Selbastiain Ralle estlablished himself, some time about the year 1670, at Norridgesock, shere he continued more thani forty years. He was accused, and perhaps not without justice, of exciting his praying Indians against the English, whom he looked upon as the eneiies inot only of his king, lbut also of the Catholic religion. He was killed by thie English, ii 1724,.It tlhe folt of the cross which his own hands had planited. his Indian church w,as broken up, and its memibers either killed i,utright or dispersed. In a letter written by Ralle to his nephew he gives the following account of his church, and his own labors:’ All my converts repair to the church regularly twice every day; first, very early ill the nmorning, to attend mass, and again in the evening, to assist in the prayers at sunset. As it is necessary to fix the imagination of savages, hose attention is easily distracted, I has e composed prayers, calculated to inspire them ith just sentiments of the august sacrifice of our altars: they chant, or at least recite them aloud, during mass.

Besides preaching to them on Sundays and saints’ days, I seldom let a workiiig-d.iy pass, without naking a con cise exhortation, for the purpose of inspiring them with horror at those vices to E hich they are most addicted, or to confirm themi in the practice of some particular virtue.”-V-ide LIires 2lritfinls ci Cur., Vol. VI. p. 127. 2volel’s.

Page 400 view page image

400~~~~~~~~~~~~1/(f..r’ NoT E (7, I)a’s e 2). The character of Ralle has probhably never been correctly delitteated. iBy his flrethreu of the Roinish Church, he has heen nearly aI)o(tleosized. 01n the other hand, our Puritan historians have represented him as a delulolu in httman form. IIe uas undouibtedly sincere in his devotion to the interests of his church, atnd not over-scrupulous as to the means of advancinug those interests.

“The French,” sty s thle author of the History of Sitco and ]lid(leford, “.fter the peaice of 1713, secretly promisedl to sulpply the Indiains writh artms and atnmtinitiiol, if they wotld reniesv hostilities. l’heir principal agellt Sias the celebrated Is’alle, the Fretich Jesuiit.”-p.

2I5. ONIl’E 1 8, page 3r. Ifertel de Rouville wvas ant actise aiid uiiisp.iriii enemy of the FEnlish. He sr.is the leader of the co~lli)fined F renchll( hand Idlaian forces which destroyed l)ecei ield and tnassacred its inhailit~ints, in r7-,. He;Ss afterw ards killed ini the atti.ck upoit Ilaverh ill.‘T’raditionl sals thtir, ext(.iiilll (i. }liS d~lea.d llis,d’, his he.d rIul face iere found to be perfectly smllootlh, without the slightest apipearatce of hi.ir or heard. (,:,.‘si tss? ,et.1(11,1/
zt,I’ss-tI,’,’/ \l? 5r y,,t, afr~ti(l? - fy ft:.tr youl.? \ir)TIE 2(), ptge 7 , tinnpiirklit, otherw ise call e (; eorge, Sa hem of Satgrts, married a d.tu’htter of I’.tssaonav::tyo, the great Pe’tllicook chieft.liu, ii I662. ITe weddlitig took place it tIenacao,lk (io Concord, N. H.), and the cieremon0oies closed with t treatt feast. Accordlilg to the usages of the chiefs, Passaconaway ordereci a select nutittiher of his menl t o acconipany the tnewly-nmairried co>uple to the dwvellilngi of the httsband, where itr there a other grea t feast. Some ti me after, tle wvife of Winnepurkit expressiln a desire to v isit her father s h,,iise, Sas permitted to g(o, accompanicd 1)b a brae escort o f h er htlsban d’s chief mn. l~,ut wlein shc w ished to returi, her father sent a messenger to Sa g us, inforning her hushband, and asking himl to come and take her a iy. He retiiriled foir as w er tht he had escorted his Sife t, her father s h,tse in aI style thit lecame a c hief, aln that tinow if she w-islhed to returnl, her fawther inutst sendt hler ba;ck; inl the s ltme way.

lThis I’assat con~lt;ay reftfsedl to d,), anlld it is salidl thalt htre terttilalte( thlc conncctiont of his daulgh lter ith th e S;ltls chief.-I /~r[s.llor/a/z’.’ z tn. N (I]q p 2rt, l’ag 43. Illis a.s the name slicl ti e I nia ns o,f New Eingland gave to two or three of t heir [prilcipal clhiefs, to Sl,,m all taeir i.ferio, sa.<am(,res ac knowleulged tllegiallce. Passaic~Itway see nxs to }~:tve leen ole ot these hiefs. His residence w.is ait lPlenna.icooIk. tiass. Hist. C,,1., Ool. Ill. tp. 2xt 22.) “He was regairdedl,” say s I 1}) 1ard, “l a g rea t s)reeer,:ttl his fgreate was svtielly spre.ad. It was saidl ,If him that }~c c,,uld c.e a gre e n leaf tot gtr,i in winter, tre e s to Sance, w.ter to }>urn1,,Yc.

I]t wsil, (l(1(l ly, (,l e o(f thl,se sh1rewi an d p)owerful Illt’el wh(Iise (chtieSt,:leCts are (( lvtyi s reg:’ r, 1t11 }1y i })ar}>ltrotls t)e(ic le ais thie r(Silt (If slipctnl~ttlriti aidl. lThe Ind~ian11s (.<:rye to sulc} thle nl~tmels of l’(,w;lhs o~r l’anliseets.” “Ih I%‘ni sces are Illtl l l,f gre.tt lollace:tICd wisd o, and to t(ise tele l)evil]

apfe.treth 111ore f t; ilitrly than to 1t/t1rs.”-ll’-‘.zsD~.o’s N,’ioz.

“”1‘1, Ip:rted s,” s:ty t.<,,(r \ illil~l. s, “Il’:te’,’,‘n1tl, call\Vt tto ma nit, wh 1o p~reside&sO tl tc lthe hlO~lt~se1ldol.” NI r.:‘1, pa.ge 5r. Tlhere are ro,cks ill th, r ivr:tt tile l:tlls (of;\ 11slke:i’, ini tlie cav11 itieS of which, traidiiutin s., s, thr: lllnialls f (111(rl stored and111 cviceledl their 0orn1. 4o0 ~’-( }TI I 1?, [):.ge.

5ll.””.:2, ]~:U..[eC 47

Page 401 view page image

N()tIs. NOTE 24, page 55. Tihe Spiring C;d,tt. See RWgalco I?fili1s’s ads, &c. 40O NoT(t 25, page 59. “Mat wonick kunnamlitntmee.” We shall see thee or her no more.- STde Roger It V/iants’s Any t2 thit Indiant’

Lalngazuatt. NoTE 26, page 59. “Th (great S(,tth \West (Cod.” See tCoer IIK’//ittmZs’s f)bservations, &c. NOTE 27, ptage PI. The celebrated Captain Smith, after resigning the government of the Colony in \ ir’ioia, in his capacity of “Admiral of New England,” made a careful survey of the coast from Penobscot to Cape Cod, in the summer of 1614. NoIEt 28, page 62. I,ake Winoipiseogee,-T,e Stz/i’e o’ the Gretce.~[iri,,-the source of one of thte branches of the Merrinmack. NorE 29, page 62. Captain Smith gave to the promontory, nosw called Cape Ann, the name of T.ragabiz anda, in memory of his young and beautiftll mistress of that natamte, who, s hile he was a captive at Constantino’ple, like Desdemona, “loved hint for the dangers he had passed.” NOTE 30, page 64. Some three or four years since, a fragment of a statue, rudely chiselled from dtark gray stotne, was found in the town of Bradford, on the Merrimack. Its origin tItust be left entirely to conjecture. The fact that the ancient Northitten visited New England, some centuries before the discoveries of Columbus, is now very generally admitted. NOTEs 3’I page 87. l)e Soto, in the sixteenth centutry, penetrated into tIle wilds of the new world in seatrch of gold and the foutntain of perpetual youth. NOTE 32, page 1o3. T it,’.S:INT

L’OLTVERTURF, the black chieftain of Hayti, was a slave on the 1latatation “de I ibertas,” belonging to M. l.&A(otr. When the rising of the negroes took place, in x79I,‘1.TOSSAI.NT refused to joitn them until he had aided M. itsxvou and his family to escape to l’ialtimore. The white man had discovered il Totossatlnt many noble qualities, and had instructed him in sotmte of the first !rttchcs of education; and the preservation of his life was owing to the tegro’s grattitude for this kindness. Ili n797, Toussaint L’ Otverttre was appointed, by the French government, (;enerr-inl-(hief of the armies of St. Dotmitigo, atid, as such, signted the Cotiveittioti ws ith (;etteral Maitland for the ev.tcitation of the island by the British. Frotti this period, lentil i8oi, the island, tOtder the governmeut of Tutossaint, was happy, trantqltuil, and prosperous. The miserable attempt of Napoleon to re-establish slavery in St. Domingo, although it failed of its intended object, proved fatal to the negro chieftain. Treacherously seized by Leclerc, he was hurried on board a vessel by night, and conveyed to France, w here he was confined in a cold subterrantean dutugeon, at Besanqon, where, in April, 0803, he died. The treatment of Totossaint finds a parallel only in the murder of the DIuke D’Enghien. It was the remark of Godwvin, in his Lectures, that the West Itndia Islantds, since their first discosery by Columbus, could not biist t f. sinigle name which deserves comiiparisoni with that of Toussaitit L’Ouverture.

Page 402 view page image

402 Notl.: 3,, page o09. The reader may, perhaits, ctall to mttiod the beatttifttl Sotnnet of William Words-. worth, addressed to’l’oussaint L’Ous vrtore, during htis confnleinciiictit ill l’raince. T otoss iltt!-thou most ttnlht.ply man of ttet! \Vhetber the wvhistlingt rustic tends his plottglt Within thy hearing, or thou liest 0oW fltit jed in some deep dtnugeon’s e.ttrless delt (U miserable chieftain!-Owhcre andI when Wilt thou find patience?-Yet, die not, (tlo thrilt Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerfttl brow Though fallen thyself, never to rise agait, Live and take comfort. Thou hast left behitdll Poswers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies, There’s not a breathing of the contttttoii wind That will forgct thee: thor hast great allies: Thy friends are extultationis, lgolies, Aud love, and iiant’s ctiIlcoittiucrablle utitid.’

N(TE 34, page xo9. The French ship I. RIstituItt’I, with.a cress of twIety-twvo men, anti with onie hmn(Ired atid sixty negro slases, s.tiled fron ln onlly, ill Aftritca, Airil, 1819. ()li tipproaching the liue, a terrible oa.ilady broke ot,-ttit obstinatte disease of the eyes, contagious, and altogether beyond the resomrces of m edicine. It was aggravated by the scarcity of water among the sli ves (ounly half a wineglass per day being allowsed to an individual), and by the extreme impurity of the air in which they breathed. By the advice of the physiciant they w ere brought upon deck occasionally; but some of the poor wretches, locking themselves in each other’s arms, leaped overboard, in the hope, which so titniversally prevails among them, of being swiftly transported to their own homes in Africa. To check this, the captain ordered several who were stopped in the attempt to be shot, or hanged, before their companions. The disease extended to the crew; and one after another were smitten with it,‘until only one remained unaffected. Yet even this dreadful condition did not preclude calculation: to save the expense of supporting slaves rendered unsalable, and to obtain grounds for a clami against the underwriters, thirty-six ofhe negroes, had/nt becaote blind, there t/rotun inta b/te sea and trozaSed.’ In the midst of their dreadful fears lest the solitary individual, whose sight remained unaffected, should also be seized with the malady, a sail was discovered. It wias the Spanish slaver, Leon. T he same disease had been there; and, horrible to tell, all the crew had become blind! Unable to assist each other, the vessels parted. The Spanish ship has never since been heard of. The Rodetr reached Guadaloupe on the 2Ist of June; the only ittatn who had escaped the disease, and had thus been enabled to steer the slaver into port, caught it in three days after its arrival.-Sfiec/i of.Mi. Beanamin Constant, in thee French Chamber of Defn/it’s, Jutte 17, x$20. ?N()TE D5n p;1,>C I52. T he Northerin althor of the Congttressiotli~ rule agatilst reccivitg petitionis of the people on the stulbject of Slav ery. ot E 3:;, patge 175. Dr. Thacher, stirgeout ill Scanimel’s regittmetnt, ill his dlescription of the siege of Vorktown, says: “Tle labor on the Virginia plantations is performed altogether by a species of the httnsan race cruelly wrested front their native country, and doomed to perpetual bondage, while their masters are manfully coutenditig for freedom and the natural rights of man. Such is the inconsistency of human nature.”

Eighteen hundtilred slaves wiere found at Yorktowti, after its surrender, and restored to their masters. Well was it said by Di. Barnis, in his late work on Slavery: ” No slave was any nearer his freedlons after the sturrender of Yorktown than when Patrick Heitry first tautlght the notes of liberty to echo among the hills and vales of Virginlia.” ASo/(‘s. -

Page 403 view page image

403 N( I-E 37, pige 18S2. ‘l’hc rihts and lil)ci-ties affirmed lly Mx(;N:x CI,AI,.rA were deemed of such imt,}rtanlie, i thlll te thirtet cetr, that the lishl,os,I twice a year, with tapers lmlrnin5g, asdi in their pI,,tific.l rIoes, pronounced, ill the presence of tlle king and the reopr esentaties of the esttes of 1 lad, the greater excommunication against thle iifri er of ta t istrlent. The imposin cerenony took place in the great H.ill of cWiestpmin.ter. A cp,y of the curse, as l)roiounced in i253, declares that, “ly the alithlorits,f Almi,ghty (;o1(, and the llessed Apostles and Martyrs, and all tle s.aints in heaseil, all thCse 5h/ v iolate thle Eilislt lilberties, and secretly or byell, hy deed, w ord, or( ounsel, do m.ake statultes,,J’ ys’rt’ /It’oi 1S’iliA’ 010t))’, .gaist said lillerties, are acctesld a(d scjitestercd froeti thie companl y of heaven .and the sacram.ents of tlhe Holv Chtrch.” WVtII.I \M I)ENN, in his admiralec political pamphllet, ” England’s Present Interest Considered,” alludiug to the curse of the Charter-breakers, says: ” I am no Rom,an Catholic, a1d1 little valte tlheir other cttrses; yet I declare I wottld not for the w,orld incitr this cursc, as every man deservedly doth, who offers violence to the fundamental freedom thereby repeated and cotlirmed.” NOTE 38, page 2I5. “The manner in w hich the WValdenses and heretics disseminated their principles among the Catholic gentry, was by carrying with them a box of trinkets, or articles of dress. Having entered the hotuses of the gentry and disposed of some of their goods, they cautiously intimated that they had commodities far more valuable than these,-inestimable jewels, which they would show if they could be protected from the clergy. They woutld then give their purchasers a Bible or Testament and thereby many were deluded into heresy.” R. Saccho. NOTE

39, page 255. Chalkley Hall, near Frankford, Pa., the residenice of THOIMAs CHALKLEY, an eminent minister of the Friernds’ denominatioit. He was one of the early settlers of the Colony, anid his Journal, which was ptlblished in I749, presenllts a qttaint bht lieautiftil pictture of a life of ntnostentatio,ls and simple goodness. He was the tmaster of a merchanlt vessel, and, in his visits to the West Indies and Great 3rit1n, omitted no opt)ortinity t,o lal)or for the highest interests of his fellow-men. Ilirig a teml),rary resi d hcei in hil elpia, i the stumer of I838, the qitliet ned lbealtiful s enery at ~ the a.ient village of 1’rainkford freluently attracted me fr,let the lheait alnd blstle of thi city. N 4 I 4l “,;t e 2(,. :\ui ust S,,lil,,1.”‘1 xxxi. “Intcrrogavi T
errain,” &c. N,’-IE 41, pilae 263(. F,lr the idea,)f this liie, I am illebte( to 8 nmers,,i, in lis i, inmitalfle sonnet to tlhe Rhoora,  ‘ If eyes sere madle for seeing, ‘IThell Ii”tiity is its onF excuse fI,r leing.” ()rF 42, pIe 29,. Among the earliest converts to the doctrines of Frie,nds in Scotland was Barclay of Ury, an old ad istinguiished soldier, ho had fought unler (;istavts Adolphus, in Germany. As a QuLaker, he became the obje(-t of persecitioni and abitse at the ihaids of the magistrates and the populace. Nonle lbore the indignities of the mobl sith greater patience and nolblen!ess of soutl thani this once proud gentleman and soldier. One of his friends, o an occasion of utncodmoln rudeness, lamentedl that he should be treated so hlarslhly in his old age ho) had beel so honored lefore. “I find more satisfaction,” saidl Barclay, ” as sell as honor, in being thits itisilted for my relit,ious princilles, t han e, a fesw years ago, it was usual for the magistrate:, as I passed the city of lerleel, to meet me on the road and1 conduct me to public entertai imeit i n th1eir all,,,I, tlen escort te otut again, to gain iiy favwr.”

Page 404 view page image

Aotecs. No-E 43, page 3x6. Ilucy Hooper died at Brooklyn, I,. I., on the ist of 8th mo., i841, aged 24 years. NO)TE 44, page 318. The last time I saw Dr. Channin,g was in the summer of 184-, when, in company with my English friend, Joseph Sturge, so well known for his philanthropic labors and liberal political opinions, I visited him in his sutImer residence in Rhode Island. Ih recalling the impressions of that visit, it catl scarcely be necessary to say, that I has e no reference to the peculiar reliiou.s olinions of a,man swhose life, l)eautif,lily and tritly) manifestled aliove the atmllos,phere of sect, is.nos the world’s conllloll legacy.

NoTE 45, page 324. ” vime of Sibmah! I sill weep for thee with the weepitig of Jazer!”-Jercmth xilviii. 32. NOTE 46, page 33-., Sophia Sturge, sister of Joseph Sttirrge, of Birmingham, the President of the British Complete Suffrage Association, died in the 6thl month, x845. She was the colleague, counsellor, andl ever-ready helpmate of her brother in all his vast designs of lbeneficence. The Birmingham Pilot says of her: “

Never, plerhaps, were the active and passive virtues of the human character miore harmoniously and beautifully blended than in this excellent woman.” NOTiEF 47, page 334. WVinnipiseogee: “Smile of the Great Spirit.” NOTE 48, page 343. This legend is the stubject of a celebrated picture by Tintoretto, of which Mr. Rogers possesses the original sketch.

The slave lies on the ground, amid a crowd of spectators, who look on, animated by all the various emotions of sympathy, rage, terror; a woman, in front, with a child in her arms, has always been admired for the lifelike vivacity of her attitude and expression. The execittioner holds up the broken implements; St. Mark, with a headlong mnove.ment, seems to rush down from heaven in haste to save his worshipper. T’he dramatic grouping in this picture is wonderfutl; the coloring, in its gorgeous depth and harmony, is, in Mr. Rogers’s sketch, finer than in the picture.

,rs. J,m,iesonz’s’oetry ofSacred and Legendary A rt, Vol. I. p. 2. NOTE

49, page 345 Petinant, in his “Voyage to the Hebrides,” describes the holy well of T.och Iaree, the waters of which were supposed to effect a itira.culotis cure of melancholy, trotblle, and insanity. NOTE 50, page 350. The writer of these lines is no enemy of Catholics. lie has, on more than one occasion, exposed himself to the ce.nsures of his Protestant brethren, by his strenutous endeav ors to procure indemnification for the owners of the cotvecnt destroyed near Boston. He defended the cause of tlhe Irish patriots long before it had becotme popular in this country; and he,as one of the first to tirge the most liberal aid to the sutffering and stars ing popuilation of the Catholic island.‘I’he severity of his language finils its ample apology in the reluctant confession of one of the m,st eminient Rom)ish priests, the eloqtuent tand tievoted Father Vetittura. 404

Page 405 view page image

405 ”o r’ 5 1, page 352. l)e;nezer Elliott, tlhe intelli,cnce of * hose death has recently reached ts, was, to the.artisans (f LEnland, hat BuLrns w as to the peasantry of Scotland. His “Corn-lav Rhymes” contril),ted not a little to tlat overwhelming tide of poptlar {oniLLon and feeling which resulted in, the repeal of the tax on bread. Well has the eloquLent author of‘“I’he Reforms a Rd Rforormers of (;reat Britain” said of him, ” N)t corn,-law repealers alone, htut all Britons whlo moisten their scanty bread with thle sseat of thle l)row, a-e lar, ely indeblted to his i,spiing lays, for the mighty I,,,und whichl the lal)oring m,indcl of En.glan(l has taken in oulr day.” N01-F 52, page 354’lhe rcaler of the Binoraphy of thle late William Allen, tl,e philanthropic associ.te (of Clarks,n atd Rontilly, c.t not f.ail t,.ad(mire his siiple an(l I)eattiful recordl of a tour thr,oltgh Europe. ill the y ears 818 and IS9, in the compan y of hlis American friend, Stephen (crellett. JUN 7 1917 -:V-()/“S.

Page 406 view page image

Powered by DLXS

To comment or inquire about content, contact moa-feedback@umich.edu To report errors, contact umdl-help@umich.edu Reprint Information for this collection