XIV. SELECTIONS FROM LOWELL. WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS. GUVENER B.' is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; He draws his furrer ez straight ez he can, An' into nobody's tater-patch pokes; But John P. Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? What shall we du? - thet's flat; We can't never choose him o' course, Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. Gineral C.2 is a dreffle smart man: He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf, But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, He's ben true to one party, — an' thet is himself; Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; He don't vally principle more'n an old cud; Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village,3 With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut aint, Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. The side of our country must ollers be took, Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; Sez they're nothin' on airth but jest fee, faw, fum:5 An' thet all this big talk of our destinies Is half ov it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum; But John P. Robinson he Sez it aint no sech thing; an', of course, so must we Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes; Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow, Robinson he Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee! THE PRESENT CRISIS. WHEN a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west, And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time. Through the walls of hut and palace shoots the instantaneous throe, And glad Truth's yet mightier man-child leaps beneath the Future's heart. So the Evil's triumph sendeth, with a terror and a chill, And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels his sympathies with God' For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct bears along, - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right, Hast thou chosen, O my people, on whose party thou shalt stand, Backward look across the ages and the beacon-moments see, That, like peaks of some sunk continent, jut through Oblivion's sea; Not an ear in court or market for the low foreboding cry Of those Crises, God's stern winnowers, from whose feet earth's chaff must fly; Never shows the choice momentous till the judgment hath passed by. Careless seems the great Avenger; history's pages but record We see dimly in the Present what is small and what is great, List the ominous stern whisper from the Delphic cave within, sin." Slavery, the earth-born Cyclops,7 fellest of the giant brood, Sons of brutish Force and Darkness, who have drenched the earth with blood, Famished in his self-made desert, blinded by our purer day, Shall we guide his gory fingers where our helpless children play? Then to side with truth is noble when we share her wretched crust, Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 'tis prosperous to be just; Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside, Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified, And the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied. While the men they agonized for hurled the contumelious stone, By the light of burning heretics Christ's bleeding feet I track, And these mounts of anguish number how each generation learned One new word of that grand Credo which in prophet-hearts hath burned Since the first man stood God-conquered with his face to heaven upturned. For Humanity sweeps onward: where to-day the martyr stands, 'Tis as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves Of a legendary virtue carved upon our fathers' graves, Worshippers of light ancestral make the present light a crime; Was the Mayflower launched by cowards, steered by men behind their time? Turn those tracks toward Past or Future, that make Plymouth Rock sublime? 10 They were men of present valor, stalwart old iconoclasts, Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue was the Past's; But we make their truth our falsehood, thinking that hath made us free, Hoarding it in mouldy parchments, while our tender spirits flee The rude grasp of that great Impulse which drove them across the sea. They have rights who dare maintain them; we are traitors to our sires, New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth, They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key. |