Comfort them with thy future; let them see The day-dawn of Italian liberty;
For that, with all good things, is hid with Thee, And, perfect in thy thought, awaits its time to be!
I, who have spoken for freedom at the cost Of some weak friendships, or some paltry prize Of name or place, and more than I have lost Have gained in wider reach of sympathies, And free communion with the good and wise,- May God forbid that I should ever boast Such easy self-denial, or repine
That the strong pulse of health no more is mine; That, overworn at noonday, I must yield To other hands the gleaning of the field,- A tired on-looker through the day's decline. For blest beyond deserving still, and knowing That kindly Providence its care is showing In the withdrawal as in the bestowing, Scarcely I dare for more or less to pray. Beautiful yet for me this autumn day Melts on its sunset hills; and, far away, For me the Ocean lifts its solemn psalm, To me the pine-woods whisper; and for me Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, By greenest banks, with asters purple-starred, And gentian bloom and golden-rod made gay, Flows down in silent gladness to the sea, Like a pure spirit to its great reward!
Nor lack I friends, long-tried and near and dear, Whose love is round me like this atmosphere, Warm, soft and golden. For such gifts to me What shall I render, O my God, to thee? Let me not dwell upon my lighter share Of pain and ill that human life must bear; Save me from selfish pining; let my heart, Drawn from itself in sympathy, forget The bitter longings of a vain regret,
The anguish of its own peculiar smart. Remembering others, as I have to-day, In their great sorrows, let me live alway Not for myself alone, but have a part, Such as a frail and erring spirit may,
In love which is of Thee, and which indeed Thou art!
THE moon has set: while yet the dawn Breaks cold and gray, Between the midnight and the morn Bear off your prey!
On, swift and still!—the conscious street Is panged and stirred ; Tread light!—that fall of serried feet The dead have heard!
The first drawn blood of Freedom's veins Gushed where ye tread;
Lo! through the dusk the martyr-stains Blush darkly red!
Beneath the slowly waning stars And whitening day, What stern and awful presence bars
That sacred way?
What faces frown upon ye, dark With shame and pain?
Come these from Plymouth's Pilgrim bark? Is that young Vane?
Who, dimly beckoning, speed ye on
With mocking cheer?
Lo! spectral Andros, Hutchinson, And Gage, are here!
For ready mart or favoring blast Through Moloch's fire Flesh of his flesh, unsparing, passed The Tyrian sire.
Ye make that ancient sacrifice Of Man to Gain,
Your traffic thrives, where Freedom dies, Beneath the chain.
Ye sow to-day, your harvest scorn And hate, is near;
How, think ye freemen, mountain-born, The tale will hear?
Thank God! our mother State can yet Her fame retrieve;
To you and to your children let The scandal cleave.
Chain Hall and Pulpit, Court and Press,
Make gods of gold;
Let honor, truth, and manliness,
Like wares be sold.
Your hoards are great, your walls are strong,
The gilded chambers built by wrong Invite the rust.
What! know ye not the gains of Crime Are dust and dross;
Its ventures on the waves of time Foredoom'd to loss!
And still the Pilgrim State remains What she hath been;
Her inland hills, her seaward plains, Still nurture men!
Nor wholly lost the fallen mart— Her olden blood
Through many a free and generous heart Still pours its flood.
That brave old blood, quick-flowing yet, Shall know no check,
Till a free people's foot is set On Slavery' neck.
Even now, the peal of bell and gun, And hills aflame,
Tell of the first great triumph won In Freedom's name.15
The long night dies: the welcome gray Of dawn we see ;
Speed up the heavens thy perfect day, God of the free!
THE PEACE OF EUROPE-1852.
"GREAT peace in Europe! Order reigns From Tiber's hills to Danube's plains!" So say her kings and priests; so say The lying prophets of our day.
Go lay to earth a listening ear; The tramp of measured marches hear,— The rolling of the cannon's wheel, The shotted musket's murderous peal, The night alarm, the sentry's call,
THE PEACE OF EUROPE-1852.
The quick-eared spy in hut and hall ! From Polar sea and tropic fen The dying-groans of exiled men ! The bolted cell, the galley's chains, The scaffold smoking with its stains! Order-the hush of brooding slaves! Peace-in the dungeon-vaults and graves!
O, Fisher! of the world-wide nét, With meshes in all waters set, Whose fabled keys of heaven and hell Bolt hard the patriot's prison-cell, And open wide the banquet-hall, Where kings and priests hold carnival! Weak vassal tricked in royal guise, Boy Kaiser with thy lip of lies; Base gambler for Napoleon's crown, Barnacle on his dead renown!
Thou, Bourbon Neapolitan,
Crowned scandal, loathed of God and man; And thou, fell Spider of the North! Stretching thy giant feelers forth,
Within whose web the freedom dies Of nations eaten up like flies!
Speak, Prince and Kaiser, Priest and Czar! If this be Peace, pray what is War?
White Angel of the Lord! unmeet That soil accursed for thy pure feet. Never in Slavery's desert flows
The fountain of thy charmed repose; No tyrant's hand thy chaplet weaves Of lilies and of olive-leaves;
Not with the wicked shalt thou dwell, Thus saith the Eternal Oracle; Thy home is with the pure and free! Stern herald of thy better day, Before thee, to prepare thy way, The Baptist Shade of Liberty,
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