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Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain,
Two angels, each with drooping head
The one, with forehead saintly bland
The other's brows were scarred and knit,
“ How long!” – I knew the voice of Peace,
Is there no respite ? — no release? When shall the hopeless quarrel cease ?
“O Lord, how long ! - One human soul
“What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave, Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave ?
“O brother! if thine eye can see,
Then Freedom sternly said: “I shun
“I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock,
“ The moor of Marston felt my tread, Through Jersey snows the march I led, My voice Magenta's charges sped.
“ But now, through weary day and night, I watch a vague and aimless fight For leave to strike one blow aright.
« On either side my foe they own: One guards through love his ghastly throne, And one through fear to reverence grown.
Why wait we longer, mocked, betrayed, By open foes, or those afraid To speed thy coming through my aid ?
“Why watch to see who win or fall ? –
Nay,” Peace implored : “yet longer wait ; The doom is near, the stake is great : God knoweth if it be too late.
• Still wait and watch ; the way prepare Where I with folded wings of prayer May follow, weaponless and bare."
« Too late ! the stern, sad voice replied, “ Too late!” its mournful echo sighed, In low lament the answer died.
A rustling as of wings in fight,
But round me, like a silver bell
“ Still hope and trust,” it sang; "the rod Must fall, the wine-press must be trod, But all is possible with God!”
WRITTEN ON THE ADOPTION OF PINCKNEY'S RESOLUTIONS, IN THE
BILL FOR EXCLUDING PAPERS, WRITTEN OR PRINTED, TOUCH-
EN of the North-land ! where's the manly spirit
Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit
Their names alone ?
Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us,
Stoops the strong manhood of our souls so low, That Mammon's lure or Party's wile can win us
To silence now !
Now, when our land to ruin's brink is verging,
In God's name, let us speak while there is time! Now, when the padlocks for our lips are forging,
Silence is crime !
What! shall we henceforth humbly ask as favors
Rights all our own? In madness shall we barter, For treacherous peace, the freedom Nature gave us,
God and our charter ?
Here shall the statesman forge his human fetters,
Here the false jurist human rights deny,
Make truth a lie ?
Torture the pages of the hallowed Bible,
To sanction crime, and robbery, and blood ? And, in Oppression's hateful service, libel
Both man and God?
Shall our New Engiand stand erect no longer,
But stoop in chains upon her downward way, Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger
Day after day?
O no; methinks from all her wild, green, mountains
From valleys where her slumbering fathers lie From her blue rivers and her welling fountains,
And clear, cold sky
From her rough coast, and isles, which hungry Ocean
from the fisher's skiff, With white sail swaying to the billows' motion
Round rock and cliff
From the free fireside of her unbought farmer
From her free laborer at his loom and wheel From the brown smith-shop, where, beneath the hammer,
Rings the red steel
From each and all, if God hath not forsaken
Our land, and left us to an evil choice, Loud as the summer thunderbolt shall waken
A People's voice
Startling and stern! the Northern winds shall bear it
Over Potomac's to St. Mary's wave; And buried Freedom shall awake to hear it
Within her grave.
O, let that voice go forth ! The bondman sighing
By Santee's wave, in Mississippi's cane, Shall feel the hope, within his bosom dying,
Let it go forth! The millions who are gazing
Sadly upon us from afar, shall smile, And unto God devout thanksgiving raising,
Bless us the while.