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Lo! threescore years have passed; and where
O, fields still green and fresh in story,
Old days of pride, old names of glory,
Old thoughts which stirred the hearts of men,
Behold the avenging shadow fall!
Your world-wide honor stained with shame, –
Where's now the flag of that old war?
Dark Vale of Palms, red Monterey,
Laugh, Prussia, midst thy iron ranks !
ESIDE a stricken field I stood;
On the torn turf, on grass and wood, Hung heavily the dew of blood.
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, -
"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, Tell how and when the end shall be, What hope remains for thee and me.
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,
"On either side my foe they own:
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?
I shake the dust against them all,
I leave them to their senseless brawl."
Nay," Peace implored: "yet longer wait;
"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 flight,
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 HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, AND THE PASSAGE OF CALHOUN'S (6 BILL FOR EXCLUDING PAPERS, WRITTEN OR PRINTED, TOUCHING THE SUBJECT OF SLAVERY FROM THE U. S. POST-OFFICE," IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES.
EN of the North-land! where 's the manly spirit Of the true-hearted and the unshackled gone ? 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,
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?