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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22626-h.zip b/22626-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f769fd0 --- /dev/null +++ b/22626-h.zip diff --git a/22626-h/22626-h.htm b/22626-h/22626-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ddb068 --- /dev/null +++ b/22626-h/22626-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1427 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Ode Pronounced Before the Inhabitants of Boston, by Charles Sprague</title> +<style type="text/css"> + + /* slight differences for print and screen */ + + @media print { + div.tp h1 {margin-top: 8em; } + span.pgmark {border: 0 !important; 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} + + span.pgmark {font-size: x-small; + font-family: serif; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + line-height: 1.2; + text-indent: 0; text-align: left; + margin: 0; padding: .05em 0.5em !important; + position: absolute; left: 1%; } + + /* various typographic stuff */ + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps; } + .smaller {font-size: smaller; } + .larger {font-size: larger; } + .right {text-align: right; } + .ns {display: none; visibility: hidden; } + .noindent {text-indent: 0; } + .fltrt {float: right; } + .xtop {padding-top: 2em; } + .notop {margin-top: 0 !important; } + .stretch {letter-spacing: 0.1em; } + .small {font-size: small; } + .minuscule {font-size: x-small;} + + /* just in case */ + em, cite {font-style: italic;} + strong {font-weight: bold;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ode Pronounced Before the Inhabitants of +Boston, September the Seventeenth, 1830, at the Centennial Celebration of the Settlement of the City, +by Charles Sprague + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Ode Pronounced Before the Inhabitants of Boston, September the Seventeenth, 1830, + at the Centennial Celebration of the Settlement of the City + +Author: Charles Sprague + +Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ODE PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE INHABITANTS OF BOSTON *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<hr class="pg" /> +<div class="tp"> +<h1><a name="png.001" id="png.001"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">1</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span><span class="minuscule">AN</span><br /> + +<strong class="larger stretch"><span class="larger">ODE:</span></strong><br /> + +<span class="minuscule">PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE</span><br /> + +<span class="stretch">INHABITANTS OF BOSTON,</span><br /> + +<span class="small">SEPTEMBER THE SEVENTEENTH, 1830,</span><br /> + +<span class="minuscule">AT THE</span><br /> + +<strong>CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION</strong><br /> + +<span class="minuscule">OF THE</span><br /> + +<span class="smaller">SETTLEMENT OF THE CITY.</span></h1> + + +<div class="hr"><hr /></div> +<p class="h2">BY CHARLES SPRAGUE.</p> +<div class="hr"><hr /></div> + +<p class="h5">BOSTON:</p> + +<p class="h6">JOHN H. EASTBURN … CITY PRINTER.</p> + +<hr class="sixem" /> +<p class="minuscule smcap">MDCCCXXX.</p> +</div> + + +<div class="authority"> +<h3><a name="png.002" id="png.002"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">2</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>CITY OF BOSTON.</h3> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">In Common Council, September</span> 17, 1830.</p> + +<p><em>Ordered</em>, That the Committee of Arrangements for the celebration +of this day be, and they are hereby, directed to present the +thanks of the City Council to <span class="smcap">Charles Sprague</span>, Esquire, for the +elegant, interesting and instructive Poem, this day pronounced by +him, and respectfully request a copy thereof for the press.</p> + + +<p class="mid">Sent up for Concurrence,</p> + +<p class="right notop">B. T. PICKMAN, <cite>President</cite>.</p> + +<p class="right xtop"><em>In the Board of Aldermen, September</em> 20, 1830.</p> + +<p>Read and concurred.</p> + +<p class="right notop">H. G. OTIS, <cite>Mayor</cite>.</p> + +<p class="iii">A true copy—Attest,</p> + +<p class="right notop">S. F. M’CLEARY, <cite>City Clerk</cite>.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p class="right"><i>Boston, September</i> 17, 1830.</p> + +<p class="smcap noindent">Charles Sprague, Esq.</p> + +<p>The Undersigned, the Committee of Arrangements for the Centennial +Celebration of the Settlement of Boston, have the honor to +enclose you an attested copy of a vote of the City Council, and respectfully +ask your compliance with the request contained therein.</p> + + +<p class="fltrt smcap noindent">Harrison Gray Otis,<br /> +Benjamin Russell,<br /> +Winslow Lewis,<br /> +Benjamin T. Pickman,<br /> +Thomas Minns,<br /> +Joseph Eveleth,<br /> +John W. James,<br /> +John P. Bigelow,<br /> +Washington P. Gragg.</p> + +</div> + + +<div class="main"> +<h2><a name="png.003" id="png.003"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">3</span><span class="ns">]<br /></span>ODE.</h2> + +<hr class="mini" /> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> <span class="smcap">Not</span> to the Pagan’s mount I turn,</div> +<div class="i6"> For inspiration now;</div> +<div class="i4"> Olympus and its gods I spurn—</div> +<div class="i6"> Pure One, be with me, Thou!</div> +<div class="i6"> Thou, in whose awful name,</div> +<div class="i6"> From suffering and from shame,</div> +<div>Our Fathers fled, and braved a pathless sea;</div> +<div class="i6"> Thou, in whose holy fear,</div> +<div class="i6"> They fixed an empire here,</div> +<div>And gave it to their Children and to Thee.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> And You! ye bright ascended Dead,</div> +<div class="i6"> Who scorned the bigot’s yoke,</div> +<div class="i4"> Come, round this place your influence shed;</div> +<div class="i6"> Your spirits I invoke.</div> +<div class="i6"> Come, as ye came of yore,</div> +<div class="i6"> When on an unknown shore,</div> +<div>Your daring hands the flag of faith unfurled,</div> +<div class="i8"> To float sublime,</div> +<div class="i8"> Through future time,</div> +<div>The beacon-banner of another world.</div> +</div> + + +<h4><a name="png.004" id="png.004"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">4</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>III.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Behold! they come—those sainted forms,</div> +<div class="i4"> Unshaken through the strife of storms;</div> +<div class="i4"> Heaven’s winter cloud hangs coldly down,</div> +<div class="i4"> And earth puts on its rudest frown;</div> +<div class="i4"> But colder, ruder was the hand,</div> +<div class="i4"> That drove them from their own fair land,</div> +<div>Their own fair land—refinement’s chosen seat,</div> +<div>Art’s trophied dwelling, learning’s green retreat;</div> +<div>By valour guarded, and by victory crowned,</div> +<div>For all, but gentle charity, renowned.</div> +<div class="i4"> With streaming eye, yet steadfast heart,</div> +<div class="i4"> Even from that land they dared to part,</div> +<div class="i6"> And burst each tender tie;</div> +<div class="i4"> Haunts, where their sunny youth was passed,</div> +<div class="i4"> Homes, where they fondly hoped at last</div> +<div class="i6"> In peaceful age to die;</div> +<div class="i4"> Friends, kindred, comfort, all they spurned—</div> +<div class="i6"> Their fathers’ hallowed graves;</div> +<div class="i4"> And to a world of darkness turned,</div> +<div class="i6"> Beyond a world of waves.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> When Israel’s race from bondage fled,</div> +<div class="i4"> Signs from on high the wanderers led;</div> +<div class="i4"> But here—Heaven hung no symbol here,</div> +<div class="i4"> <em>Their</em> steps to guide, <em>their</em> souls to cheer;</div> +<div class="i4"> They saw, thro’ sorrow’s lengthening night,</div> +<div class="i4"> Nought but the fagot’s guilty light;</div> +<div class="i4"><a name="png.005" id="png.005"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">5</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> The cloud they gazed at was the smoke,</div> +<div class="i4"> That round their murdered brethren broke.</div> +<div class="i4"> Nor power above, nor power below,</div> +<div class="i4"> Sustained them in their hour of wo;</div> +<div class="i6"> A fearful path they trod,</div> +<div class="i6"> And dared a fearful doom;</div> +<div class="i4"> To build an altar to their God,</div> +<div class="i6"> And find a quiet tomb.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> But not alone, not all unblessed,</div> +<div class="i4"> The exile sought a place of rest;</div> +<div class="i4"> <span class="smcap">One</span> dared with him to burst the knot,</div> +<div class="i4"> That bound her to her native spot;</div> +<div class="i4"> Her low sweet voice in comfort spoke,</div> +<div class="i4"> As round their bark the billows broke;</div> +<div class="i4"> She through the midnight watch was there;</div> +<div class="i4"> With him to bend her knees in prayer;</div> +<div class="i4"> She trod the shore with girded heart,</div> +<div class="i4"> Through good and ill to claim her part;</div> +<div class="i4"> In life, in death, with him to seal</div> +<div class="i4"> Her kindred love, her kindred zeal.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> They come—that coming who shall tell?</div> +<div class="i4"> The eye may weep, the heart may swell,</div> +<div class="i4"> But the poor tongue in vain essays</div> +<div class="i4"> A fitting note for them to raise.</div> +<div class="i4"> We hear the after-shout that rings</div> +<div class="i4"><a name="png.006" id="png.006"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">6</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> For them who smote the power of kings;</div> +<div class="i4"> The swelling triumph all would share,</div> +<div class="i4"> But who the dark defeat would dare,</div> +<div class="i4"> And boldly meet the wrath and wo,</div> +<div class="i4"> That wait the unsuccessful blow?</div> +<div class="i4"> It were an envied fate, we deem,</div> +<div class="i4"> To live a land’s recorded theme,</div> +<div class="i6"> When we are in the tomb;</div> +<div class="i4"> We, too, might yield the joys of home,</div> +<div class="i4"> And waves of winter darkness roam,</div> +<div class="i6"> And tread a shore of gloom—</div> +<div class="i4"> Knew we those waves, through coming time,</div> +<div class="i4"> Should roll our names to every clime;</div> +<div class="i4"> Felt we that millions on that shore</div> +<div class="i4"> Should stand, our memory to adore—</div> +<div class="i4"> But no glad vision burst in light,</div> +<div class="i4"> Upon the Pilgrims’ aching sight;</div> +<div class="i4"> Their hearts no proud hereafter swelled;</div> +<div class="i4"> Deep shadows veiled the way they held;</div> +<div>The yell of vengeance was their trump of fame,</div> +<div>Their monument, a grave without a name.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Yet, strong in weakness, there they stand,</div> +<div class="i6"> On yonder ice-bound rock,</div> +<div class="i4"> Stern and resolved, that faithful band,</div> +<div class="i6"> To meet fate’s rudest shock.</div> +<div class="i4"> Though anguish rends the father’s breast,</div> +<div class="i4"> For them, his dearest and his best,</div> +<div class="i6"><a name="png.007" id="png.007"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">7</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> With him the waste who trod—</div> +<div class="i4"> Though tears that freeze, the mother sheds</div> +<div class="i4"> Upon her children’s houseless heads—</div> +<div class="i6"> The Christian turns to God!</div> +</div> + + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> In grateful adoration now,</div> +<div class="i4"> Upon the barren sands they bow.</div> +<div class="i4"> What tongue of joy e’er woke such prayer,</div> +<div class="i4"> As bursts in desolation there?</div> +<div class="i4"> What arm of strength e’er wrought such power,</div> +<div class="i4"> As waits to crown that feeble hour?</div> +<div>There into life an infant empire springs!</div> +<div class="i4"> There falls the iron from the soul;</div> +<div class="i4"> There liberty’s young accents roll,</div> +<div class="i6"> Up to the King of kings!</div> +<div class="i4"> To fair creation’s farthest bound,</div> +<div class="i4"> That thrilling summons yet shall sound;</div> +<div class="i4"> The dreaming nations shall awake,</div> +<div>And to their centre earth’s old kingdoms shake.</div> +<div class="i6"> Pontiff and prince, your sway</div> +<div class="i6"> Must crumble from that day;</div> +<div class="i4"> Before the loftier throne of Heaven,</div> +<div class="i4"> The hand is raised, the pledge is given—</div> +<div>One monarch to obey, one creed to own,</div> +<div>That monarch, God, that creed, His word alone.</div> +</div> + + +<h4><a name="png.008" id="png.008"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">8</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>IX.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Spread out earth’s holiest records here,</div> +<div class="i4"> Of days and deeds to reverence dear;</div> +<div>A zeal like this what pious legends tell?</div> +<div class="i8"> On kingdoms built</div> +<div class="i8"> In blood and guilt,</div> +<div>The worshippers of vulgar triumph dwell—</div> +<div class="i4"> But what exploit with theirs shall page,</div> +<div class="i6"> Who rose to bless their kind;</div> +<div class="i4"> Who left their nation and their age,</div> +<div class="i6"> Man’s spirit to unbind?</div> +<div class="i6"> Who boundless seas passed o’er,</div> +<div class="i4"> And boldly met, in every path,</div> +<div class="i4"> Famine and frost and heathen wrath,</div> +<div class="i6"> To dedicate a shore,</div> +<div>Where piety’s meek train might breathe their vow,</div> +<div>And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow;</div> +<div>Where liberty’s glad race might proudly come,</div> +<div>And set up there an everlasting home?</div> +</div> + + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> O many a time it hath been told,</div> +<div class="i4"> The story of those men of old:</div> +<div class="i4"> For this fair poetry hath wreathed</div> +<div class="i6"> Her sweetest, purest flower;</div> +<div class="i4"> For this proud eloquence hath breathed</div> +<div class="i6"> His strain of loftiest power;</div> +<div class="i4"> Devotion, too, hath lingered round</div> +<div class="i4"> Each spot of consecrated ground,</div> +<div class="i6"> <a name="png.009" id="png.009"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">9</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> And hill and valley blessed;</div> +<div class="i4"> There, where our banished Fathers strayed,</div> +<div class="i4"> There, where they loved and wept and prayed,</div> +<div class="i6"> There, where their ashes rest.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> And never may they rest unsung,</div> +<div class="i4"> While liberty can find a tongue.</div> +<div class="i4"> Twine, Gratitude, a wreath for them,</div> +<div class="i4"> More deathless than the diadem,</div> +<div class="i6"> Who to life’s noblest end,</div> +<div class="i6"> Gave up life’s noblest powers,</div> +<div class="i4"> And bade the legacy descend,</div> +<div class="i6"> Down, down to us and ours.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div>By centuries now the glorious hour we mark,</div> +<div>When to these shores they steered their shattered bark;</div> +<div>And still, as other centuries melt away,</div> +<div>Shall other ages come to keep the day.</div> +<div>When we are dust, who gather round this spot,</div> +<div>Our joys, our griefs, our very names forgot,</div> +<div>Here shall the dwellers of the land be seen,</div> +<div>To keep the memory of the Pilgrims green.</div> +<div>Nor here alone their praises shall go round,</div> +<div>Nor here alone their virtues shall abound—</div> +<div>Broad as the empire of the free shall spread,</div> +<div>Far as the foot of man shall dare to tread,</div> +<div><a name="png.010" id="png.010"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">10</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>Where oar hath never dipped, where human tongue</div> +<div>Hath never through the woods of ages rung,</div> +<div>There, where the eagle’s scream and wild wolf’s cry</div> +<div>Keep ceaseless day and night through earth and sky,</div> +<div>Even there, in after time, as toil and taste</div> +<div>Go forth in gladness to redeem the waste,</div> +<div>Even there shall rise, as grateful myriads throng,</div> +<div>Faith’s holy prayer and freedom’s joyful song;</div> +<div>There shall the flame that flashed from yonder <span class="smcap">Rock</span>,</div> +<div>Light up the land, till nature’s final shock.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Yet while by life’s endearments crowned,</div> +<div class="i4"> To mark this day we gather round,</div> +<div class="i4"> And to our nation’s founders raise</div> +<div class="i4"> The voice of gratitude and praise,</div> +<div>Shall not one line lament that lion race,</div> +<div>For us struck out from sweet creation’s face?</div> +<div>Alas! alas! for them—those fated bands,</div> +<div>Whose monarch tread was on these broad, green lands;</div> +<div>Our Fathers called them savage—them, whose bread,</div> +<div>In the dark hour, those famished Fathers fed:</div> +<div class="i6"> We call them savage, we,</div> +<div class="i6"> Who hail the struggling free,</div> +<div class="i6"><a name="png.011" id="png.011"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">11</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> Of every clime and hue;</div> +<div class="i8"> We, who would save</div> +<div class="i8"> The branded slave,</div> +<div>And give him liberty he never knew:</div> +<div class="i4"> We, who but now have caught the tale,</div> +<div class="i4"> That turns each listening tyrant pale,</div> +<div class="i4"> And blessed the winds and waves that bore</div> +<div class="i4"> The tidings to our kindred shore;</div> +<div>The triumph-tidings pealing from that land,</div> +<div>Where up in arms insulted legions stand;</div> +<div class="i4"> There, gathering round his bold compeers,</div> +<div class="i4"> Where He, our own, our welcomed One,</div> +<div class="i4"> Riper in glory than in years,</div> +<div class="i6"> Down from his forfeit throne,</div> +<div class="i6"> A craven monarch hurled,</div> +<div>And spurned him forth, a proverb to the world!</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> We call them savage—O be just!</div> +<div class="i6"> Their outraged feelings scan;</div> +<div class="i4"> A voice comes forth, ’tis from the dust—</div> +<div class="i6"> The savage was a man!</div> +<div class="i4"> Think ye he loved not? who stood by,</div> +<div class="i6"> And in his toils took part?</div> +<div class="i4"> Woman was there to bless his eye—</div> +<div class="i6"> The savage had a heart!</div> +<div class="i4"> Think ye he prayed not? when on high</div> +<div class="i6"> He heard the thunders roll,</div> +<div class="i4"> What bade him look beyond the sky?</div> +<div class="i6"> The savage had a soul!</div> +</div> + + +<h4><a name="png.012" id="png.012"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">12</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>XV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> I venerate the Pilgrim’s cause,</div> +<div class="i4"> Yet for the red man dare to plead—</div> +<div class="i4"> We bow to Heaven’s recorded laws,</div> +<div class="i4"> He turned to nature for a creed;</div> +<div class="i6"> Beneath the pillared dome,</div> +<div class="i6"> We seek our God in prayer;</div> +<div class="i4"> Through boundless woods he loved to roam,</div> +<div class="i4"> And the Great Spirit worshipped there:</div> +<div>But one, one fellow-throb with us he felt;</div> +<div>To one divinity with us he knelt;</div> +<div>Freedom, the self-same freedom we adore,</div> +<div>Bade him defend his violated shore;</div> +<div class="i4"> He saw the cloud, ordained to grow,</div> +<div class="i4"> And burst upon his hills in wo;</div> +<div class="i4"> He saw his people withering by,</div> +<div class="i4"> Beneath the invader’s evil eye;</div> +<div>Strange feet were trampling on his fathers’ bones;</div> +<div class="i4"> At midnight hour he woke to gaze</div> +<div class="i4"> Upon his happy cabin’s blaze,</div> +<div>And listen to his children’s dying groans:</div> +<div class="i4"> He saw—and maddening at the sight,</div> +<div class="i4"> Gave his bold bosom to the fight;</div> +<div class="i4"> To tiger rage his soul was driven,</div> +<div class="i4"> Mercy was not—nor sought nor given;</div> +<div class="i4"> The pale man from his lands must fly;</div> +<div class="i4"> He would be free—or he would die.</div> +</div> + + +<h4><a name="png.013" id="png.013"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">13</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i6"> And was this savage? say,</div> +<div class="i8"> Ye ancient few,</div> +<div class="i8"> Who struggled through</div> +<div class="i6"> Young freedom’s trial-day—</div> +<div class="i4"> What first your sleeping wrath awoke?</div> +<div class="i4"> On your own shores war’s larum broke:</div> +<div class="i4"> What turned to gall even kindred blood?</div> +<div class="i4"> Round your own homes the oppressor stood:</div> +<div class="i4"> This every warm affection chilled,</div> +<div class="i4"> This every heart with vengeance thrilled,</div> +<div class="i6"> And strengthened every hand;</div> +<div class="i8"> From mound to mound,</div> +<div class="i8"> The word went round—</div> +<div class="i4"> “Death for our native land!”</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Ye mothers, too, breathe ye no sigh,</div> +<div class="i4"> For them who thus could dare to die?</div> +<div class="i4"> Are all your own dark hours forgot,</div> +<div class="i6"> Of soul-sick suffering here?</div> +<div class="i4"> Your pangs, as from yon mountain spot,</div> +<div class="i4"> Death spoke in every booming shot,</div> +<div class="i6"> That knelled upon your ear?</div> +<div>How oft that gloomy, glorious tale ye tell,</div> +<div>As round your knees your children’s children hang,</div> +<div>Of them, the gallant Ones, ye loved so well,</div> +<div>Who to the conflict for their country sprang.</div> +<div class="i4"><a name="png.014" id="png.014"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">14</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> In pride, in all the pride of wo,</div> +<div class="i4"> Ye tell of them, the brave laid low,</div> +<div class="i6"> Who for their birthplace bled;</div> +<div class="i4"> In pride, the pride of triumph then,</div> +<div class="i4"> Ye tell of them, the matchless men,</div> +<div class="i6"> From whom the invaders fled!</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> And ye, this holy place who throng,</div> +<div class="i6"> The annual theme to hear,</div> +<div class="i6"> And bid the exulting song</div> +<div class="i4"> Sound their great names from year to year;</div> +<div>Ye, who invoke the chisel’s breathing grace,</div> +<div>In marble majesty their forms to trace;</div> +<div class="i4"> Ye, who the sleeping rocks would raise,</div> +<div class="i4"> To guard their dust and speak their praise;</div> +<div class="i4"> Ye, who, should some other band</div> +<div class="i4"> With hostile foot defile the land,</div> +<div class="i4"> Feel that ye like them would wake,</div> +<div class="i4"> Like them the yoke of bondage break,</div> +<div class="i4"> Nor leave a battle-blade undrawn,</div> +<div>Though every hill a sepulchre should yawn—</div> +<div class="i4"> Say, have not ye one line for those,</div> +<div class="i6"> One brother-line to spare,</div> +<div class="i4"> Who rose but as your Fathers rose,</div> +<div class="i6"> And dared as ye would dare?</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Alas! for them—their day is o’er,</div> +<div class="i4"> Their fires are out from hill and shore;</div> +<div class="i4"><a name="png.015" id="png.015"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">15</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> No more for them the wild deer bounds,</div> +<div class="i4"> The plough is on their hunting grounds;</div> +<div class="i4"> The pale man’s axe rings through their woods,</div> +<div class="i4"> The pale man’s sail skims o’er their floods,</div> +<div class="i6"> Their pleasant springs are dry;</div> +<div class="i4"> Their children—look, by power oppressed,</div> +<div class="i4"> Beyond the mountains of the west,</div> +<div class="i6"> Their children go—to die.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XX.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div>O doubly lost! oblivion’s shadows close</div> +<div class="i4"> Around their triumphs and their woes.</div> +<div class="i4"> On other realms, whose suns have set,</div> +<div class="i4"> Reflected radiance lingers yet;</div> +<div class="i4"> There sage and bard have shed a light</div> +<div class="i4"> That never shall go down in night;</div> +<div class="i4"> There time-crowned columns stand on high,</div> +<div class="i4"> To tell of them who cannot die;</div> +<div class="i4"> Even we, who then were nothing, kneel</div> +<div>In homage there, and join earth’s general peal.</div> +<div>But the doomed Indian leaves behind no trace,</div> +<div>To save his own, or serve another race;</div> +<div>With his frail breath his power has passed away,</div> +<div>His deeds, his thoughts are buried with his clay;</div> +<div class="i4"> Nor lofty pile, nor glowing page</div> +<div class="i4"> Shall link him to a future age,</div> +<div class="i4"> Or give him with the past a rank:</div> +<div>His heraldry is but a broken bow,</div> +<div>His history but a tale of wrong and wo,</div> +<div class="i4"> His very name must be a blank.</div> +</div> + + +<h4><a name="png.016" id="png.016"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">16</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Cold, with the beast he slew, he sleeps;</div> +<div class="i4"> O’er him no filial spirit weeps;</div> +<div>No crowds throng round, no anthem-notes ascend,</div> +<div>To bless his coming and embalm his end;</div> +<div>Even that he lived, is for his conqueror’s tongue,</div> +<div>By foes alone his death-song must be sung;</div> +<div class="i4"> No chronicles but theirs shall tell</div> +<div class="i4"> His mournful doom to future times;</div> +<div class="i4"> May these upon his virtues dwell,</div> +<div class="i4"> And in his fate forget his crimes.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i6"> Peace to the mingling dead!</div> +<div class="i6"> Beneath the turf we tread,</div> +<div class="i6"> Chief, Pilgrim, Patriot sleep—</div> +<div class="i4"> All gone! how changed! and yet the same,</div> +<div class="i4"> As when faith’s herald bark first came</div> +<div class="i6"> In sorrow o’er the deep.</div> +<div class="i6"> Still from his noonday height,</div> +<div class="i6"> The sun looks down in light;</div> +<div class="i4"> Along the trackless realms of space,</div> +<div class="i4"> The stars still run their midnight race;</div> +<div>The same green valleys smile, the same rough shore</div> +<div>Still echoes to the same wild ocean’s roar:—</div> +<div class="i4"> But where the bristling night-wolf sprang</div> +<div class="i6"> Upon his startled prey,</div> +<div class="i4"> Where the fierce Indian’s war-cry rang,</div> + <div class="i6"> Through many a bloody fray;</div> +<div class="i4"><a name="png.017" id="png.017"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">17</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> And where the stern old Pilgrim prayed</div> +<div class="i6"> In solitude and gloom,</div> +<div class="i4"> Where the bold Patriot drew his blade,</div> +<div class="i6"> And dared a patriot’s doom—</div> +<div>Behold! in liberty’s unclouded blaze,</div> +<div>We lift our heads, a race of other days.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXIII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div>All gone! the wild beast’s lair is trodden out;</div> +<div class="i4"> Proud temples stand in beauty there;</div> +<div class="i4"> Our children raise their merry shout,</div> +<div class="i4"> Where once the death-whoop vexed the air:</div> +<div>The Pilgrim—seek yon ancient place of graves,</div> +<div class="i4"> Beneath that chapel’s holy shade;</div> +<div class="i4"> Ask, where the breeze the long grass waves,</div> +<div class="i4"> Who, who within that spot are laid:</div> +<div>The Patriot—go, to fame’s proud mount repair,</div> +<div class="i4"> The tardy pile, slow rising there,</div> +<div class="i4"> With tongueless eloquence shall tell</div> +<div class="i4"> Of them who for their country fell.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXIV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> All gone! ’tis ours, the goodly land—</div> +<div class="i4"> Look round—the heritage behold;</div> +<div class="i4"> Go forth—upon the mountains stand,</div> +<div class="i6"> Then, if ye can, be cold.</div> +<div>See living vales by living waters blessed,</div> +<div class="i4"> Their wealth see earth’s dark caverns yield,</div> +<div class="i4"> See ocean roll, in glory dressed,</div> +<div><a name="png.018" id="png.018"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">18</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>For all a treasure, and round all a shield:</div> +<div class="i6"> Hark to the shouts of praise</div> +<div class="i6"> Rejoicing millions raise;</div> +<div class="i6"> Gaze on the spires that rise,</div> +<div class="i6"> To point them to the skies,</div> +<div class="i6"> Unfearing and unfeared;</div> +<div class="i4"> Then, if ye can, O then forget</div> +<div class="i4"> To whom ye owe the sacred debt—</div> +<div class="i6"> The Pilgrim race revered!</div> +<div class="i4"> The men who set faith’s burning lights</div> +<div class="i4"> Upon these everlasting heights,</div> +<div>To guide their children through the years of time;</div> +<div class="i4"> The men that glorious law who taught,</div> +<div class="i4"> Unshrinking liberty of thought,</div> +<div>And roused the nations with the truth sublime.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXV.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> Forget? no, never—ne’er shall die,</div> +<div class="i6"> Those names to memory dear;</div> +<div class="i4"> I read the promise in each eye</div> +<div class="i6"> That beams upon me here.</div> +<div>Descendants of a twice-recorded race,</div> +<div>Long may ye here your lofty lineage grace;</div> +<div class="i4"> ’Tis not for you home’s tender tie</div> +<div class="i4"> To rend, and brave the waste of waves;</div> +<div class="i4"> ’Tis not for you to rouse and die,</div> +<div class="i4"> Or yield and live a line of slaves;</div> +<div>The deeds of danger and of death are done:</div> +<div class="i4"> Upheld by inward power alone,</div> +<div class="i4"> Unhonoured by the world’s loud tongue,</div> +<div class="i6"><a name="png.019" id="png.019"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">19</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> ’Tis yours to do unknown,</div> +<div class="i6"> And then to die unsung.</div> +<div>To other days, to other men belong</div> +<div>The penman’s plaudit and the poet’s song;</div> +<div class="i4"> Enough for glory has been wrought,</div> +<div class="i4"> By you be humbler praises sought;</div> +<div class="i4"> In peace and truth life’s journey run,</div> +<div>And keep unsullied what your Fathers won.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXVI.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div>Take then my prayer, Ye dwellers of this spot—</div> +<div>Be yours a noiseless and a guiltless lot.</div> +<div class="i6"> I plead not that ye bask</div> +<div class="i4"> In the rank beams of vulgar fame;</div> +<div class="i6"> To light your steps I ask</div> +<div class="i4"> A purer and a holier flame.</div> +<div>No bloated growth I supplicate for you,</div> +<div>No pining multitude, no pampered few;</div> +<div class="i4"> ’Tis not alone to coffer gold,</div> +<div class="i4"> Nor spreading borders to behold;</div> +<div class="i4"> ’Tis not fast-swelling crowds to win,</div> +<div class="i4"> The refuse-ranks of want and sin—</div> +<div class="i6"> This be the kind decree:</div> +<div class="i6"> Be ye by goodness crowned,</div> +<div class="i6"> Revered, though not renowned;</div> +<div class="i6"> Poor, if Heaven will, but Free!</div> +<div class="i4"> Free from the tyrants of the hour,</div> +<div class="i4"> The clans of wealth, the clans of power,</div> +<div class="i4"> The coarse, cold scorners of their God;</div> +<div class="i6"><a name="png.020" id="png.020"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">20</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> Free from the taint of sin,</div> +<div class="i4"> The leprosy that feeds within,</div> +<div>And free, in mercy, from the bigot’s rod.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXVII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> The sceptre’s might, the crosier’s pride,</div> +<div class="i8"> Ye do not fear;</div> +<div class="i4"> No conquest blade, in life-blood dyed,</div> +<div class="i8"> Drops terror here—</div> +<div class="i4"> Let there not lurk a subtler snare,</div> +<div class="i4"> For wisdom’s footsteps to beware;</div> +<div class="i6"> The shackle and the stake,</div> +<div class="i8"> Our Fathers fled;</div> +<div class="i6"> Ne’er may their children wake</div> +<div class="i4"> A fouler wrath, a deeper dread;</div> +<div>Ne’er may the craft that fears the flesh to bind,</div> +<div class="i4"> Lock its hard fetters on the mind;</div> +<div class="i6"> Quenched be the fiercer flame</div> +<div class="i6"> That kindles with a name;</div> +<div class="i4"> The pilgrim’s faith, the pilgrim’s zeal,</div> +<div class="i4"> Let more than pilgrim kindness seal;</div> +<div class="i4"> Be purity of life the test,</div> +<div class="i4"> Leave to the heart, to Heaven, the rest.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i4"> So, when our children turn the page,</div> +<div class="i4"> To ask what triumphs marked our age,</div> +<div class="i4"> What we achieved to challenge praise,</div> +<div class="i4"> Through the long line of future days,</div> +<div class="i2"><a name="png.021" id="png.021"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">21</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span> This let them read, and hence instruction draw:</div> +<div class="i8"> “Here were the Many blessed,</div> +<div class="i8"> Here found the virtues rest,</div> +<div class="i2"> Faith linked with love and liberty with law;</div> +<div class="i6"> Here industry to comfort led,</div> +<div class="i6"> Her book of light here learning spread;</div> +<div class="i8"> Here the warm heart of youth</div> +<div class="i6"> Was wooed to temperance and to truth;</div> +<div class="i8"> Here hoary age was found,</div> +<div class="i6"> By wisdom and by reverence crowned.</div> +<div class="i8"> No great, but guilty fame</div> +<div class="i2"> Here kindled pride, that should have kindled shame;</div> +<div class="i6"> <span class="smcap">These</span> chose the better, happier part,</div> +<div class="i6"> That poured its sunlight o’er the heart;</div> +<div class="i6"> That crowned their homes with peace and health,</div> +<div class="i6"> And weighed Heaven’s smile beyond earth’s wealth;</div> +<div class="i6"> Far from the thorny paths of life</div> +<div class="i2"> They stood, a living lesson to their race,</div> +<div class="i6"> Rich in the charities of life,</div> +<div class="i2"> Man in his strength, and Woman in her grace;</div> +<div>In purity and love <span class="smcap">their</span> pilgrim road they trod,</div> +<div>And when they served their neighbor felt they served their God.”</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXIX.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="i2"> This may not wake the poet’s verse,</div> +<div class="i2"> This souls of fire may ne’er rehearse</div> +<div class="i6"> In crowd-delighting voice;</div> +<div><a name="png.022" id="png.022"></a><span class="ns">[p</span><span + class="pgmark">22</span><span class="ns">]<br + /></span>Yet o’er the record shall the patriot bend,</div> +<div>His quiet praise the moralist shall lend,</div> +<div class="i6"> And all the good rejoice.</div> +</div> + + +<h4>XXX.</h4> + +<div class="stanza"> +<div>This be our story then, in that far day,</div> +<div>When others come their kindred debt to pay:</div> +<div class="i4"> In that far day?—O what shall be,</div> +<div class="i4"> In this dominion of the free,</div> +<div>When we and ours have rendered up our trust,</div> +<div>And men unborn shall tread above our dust?</div> +<div class="i4"> O what shall be?—He, He alone,</div> +<div class="i6"> The dread response can make,</div> +<div class="i4"> Who sitteth on the only throne,</div> +<div class="i6"> That time shall never shake;</div> +<div class="i4"> Before whose all-beholding eyes</div> +<div>Ages sweep on, and empires sink and rise.</div> +<div class="i4"> Then let the song to Him begun,</div> +<div class="i6"> To Him in reverence end:</div> +<div class="i4"> Look down in love, Eternal One,</div> +<div class="i6"> And Thy good cause defend;</div> +<div class="i4"> Here, late and long, put forth Thy hand,</div> +<div class="i4"> To guard and guide the Pilgrim’s land.</div> +</div> + + +</div> +<hr class="pg" /> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ode Pronounced Before the +Inhabitants of Boston, September the Seventeenth, 1830, at the Centennial Celebration of the +Settlement of the City, by Charles Sprague + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ODE PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE INHABITANTS OF BOSTON *** + +***** This file should be named 22626-h.htm or 22626-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/2/22626/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Ode Pronounced Before the Inhabitants of Boston, September the Seventeenth, 1830, + at the Centennial Celebration of the Settlement of the City + +Author: Charles Sprague + +Release Date: September 16, 2007 [EBook #22626] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ODE PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE INHABITANTS OF BOSTON *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + AN ODE: + + pronounced before the + INHABITANTS OF BOSTON, + + September the seventeenth, 1830, + + at the + CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION + of the + SETTLEMENT OF THE CITY. + + + BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. + + + BOSTON: + John H. Eastburn ... City Printer. + + MDCCCXXX. + + + + +CITY OF BOSTON. + +In Common Council, September 17, 1830. + +_Ordered_, That the Committee of Arrangements for the celebration of this +day be, and they are hereby, directed to present the thanks of the City +Council to CHARLES SPRAGUE, Esquire, for the elegant, interesting and +instructive Poem, this day pronounced by him, and respectfully request a +copy thereof for the press. + + Sent up for Concurrence, + B. T. PICKMAN, _President_. + + +_In the Board of Aldermen, September 20, 1830._ + + Read and concurred. + H. G. OTIS, _Mayor_. + + A true copy--Attest, + S. F. M'CLEARY, _City Clerk_. + + + + +_Boston, September 17, 1830._ + +Charles Sprague, Esq. + +The Undersigned, the Committee of Arrangements for the Centennial +Celebration of the Settlement of Boston, have the honor to enclose you an +attested copy of a vote of the City Council, and respectfully ask your +compliance with the request contained therein. + + Harrison Gray Otis, + Benjamin Russell, + Winslow Lewis, + Benjamin T. Pickman, + Thomas Minns, + Joseph Eveleth, + John W. James, + John P. Bigelow, + Washington P. Gragg. + + + + + ODE. + + + I. + + Not to the Pagan's mount I turn, + For inspiration now; + Olympus and its gods I spurn-- + Pure One, be with me, Thou! + Thou, in whose awful name, + From suffering and from shame, + Our Fathers fled, and braved a pathless sea; + Thou, in whose holy fear, + They fixed an empire here, + And gave it to their Children and to Thee. + + + II. + + And You! ye bright ascended Dead, + Who scorned the bigot's yoke, + Come, round this place your influence shed; + Your spirits I invoke. + Come, as ye came of yore, + When on an unknown shore, + Your daring hands the flag of faith unfurled, + To float sublime, + Through future time, + The beacon-banner of another world. + + + III. + + Behold! they come--those sainted forms, + Unshaken through the strife of storms; + Heaven's winter cloud hangs coldly down, + And earth puts on its rudest frown; + But colder, ruder was the hand, + That drove them from their own fair land, + Their own fair land--refinement's chosen seat, + Art's trophied dwelling, learning's green retreat; + By valour guarded, and by victory crowned, + For all, but gentle charity, renowned. + With streaming eye, yet steadfast heart, + Even from that land they dared to part, + And burst each tender tie; + Haunts, where their sunny youth was passed, + Homes, where they fondly hoped at last + In peaceful age to die; + Friends, kindred, comfort, all they spurned-- + Their fathers' hallowed graves; + And to a world of darkness turned, + Beyond a world of waves. + + + IV. + + When Israel's race from bondage fled, + Signs from on high the wanderers led; + But here--Heaven hung no symbol here, + _Their_ steps to guide, _their_ souls to cheer; + They saw, thro' sorrow's lengthening night, + Nought but the fagot's guilty light; + The cloud they gazed at was the smoke, + That round their murdered brethren broke. + Nor power above, nor power below, + Sustained them in their hour of wo; + A fearful path they trod, + And dared a fearful doom; + To build an altar to their God, + And find a quiet tomb. + + + V. + + But not alone, not all unblessed, + The exile sought a place of rest; + ONE dared with him to burst the knot, + That bound her to her native spot; + Her low sweet voice in comfort spoke, + As round their bark the billows broke; + She through the midnight watch was there; + With him to bend her knees in prayer; + She trod the shore with girded heart, + Through good and ill to claim her part; + In life, in death, with him to seal + Her kindred love, her kindred zeal. + + + VI. + + They come--that coming who shall tell? + The eye may weep, the heart may swell, + But the poor tongue in vain essays + A fitting note for them to raise. + We hear the after-shout that rings + For them who smote the power of kings; + The swelling triumph all would share, + But who the dark defeat would dare, + And boldly meet the wrath and wo, + That wait the unsuccessful blow? + It were an envied fate, we deem, + To live a land's recorded theme, + When we are in the tomb; + We, too, might yield the joys of home, + And waves of winter darkness roam, + And tread a shore of gloom-- + Knew we those waves, through coming time, + Should roll our names to every clime; + Felt we that millions on that shore + Should stand, our memory to adore-- + But no glad vision burst in light, + Upon the Pilgrims' aching sight; + Their hearts no proud hereafter swelled; + Deep shadows veiled the way they held; + The yell of vengeance was their trump of fame, + Their monument, a grave without a name. + + + VII. + + Yet, strong in weakness, there they stand, + On yonder ice-bound rock, + Stern and resolved, that faithful band, + To meet fate's rudest shock. + Though anguish rends the father's breast, + For them, his dearest and his best, + With him the waste who trod-- + Though tears that freeze, the mother sheds + Upon her children's houseless heads-- + The Christian turns to God! + + + VIII. + + In grateful adoration now, + Upon the barren sands they bow. + What tongue of joy e'er woke such prayer, + As bursts in desolation there? + What arm of strength e'er wrought such power, + As waits to crown that feeble hour? + There into life an infant empire springs! + There falls the iron from the soul; + There liberty's young accents roll, + Up to the King of kings! + To fair creation's farthest bound, + That thrilling summons yet shall sound; + The dreaming nations shall awake, + And to their centre earth's old kingdoms shake. + Pontiff and prince, your sway + Must crumble from that day; + Before the loftier throne of Heaven, + The hand is raised, the pledge is given-- + One monarch to obey, one creed to own, + That monarch, God, that creed, His word alone. + + + IX. + + Spread out earth's holiest records here, + Of days and deeds to reverence dear; + A zeal like this what pious legends tell? + On kingdoms built + In blood and guilt, + The worshippers of vulgar triumph dwell-- + But what exploit with theirs shall page, + Who rose to bless their kind; + Who left their nation and their age, + Man's spirit to unbind? + Who boundless seas passed o'er, + And boldly met, in every path, + Famine and frost and heathen wrath, + To dedicate a shore, + Where piety's meek train might breathe their vow, + And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow; + Where liberty's glad race might proudly come, + And set up there an everlasting home? + + + X. + + O many a time it hath been told, + The story of those men of old: + For this fair poetry hath wreathed + Her sweetest, purest flower; + For this proud eloquence hath breathed + His strain of loftiest power; + Devotion, too, hath lingered round + Each spot of consecrated ground, + And hill and valley blessed; + There, where our banished Fathers strayed, + There, where they loved and wept and prayed, + There, where their ashes rest. + + + XI. + + And never may they rest unsung, + While liberty can find a tongue. + Twine, Gratitude, a wreath for them, + More deathless than the diadem, + Who to life's noblest end, + Gave up life's noblest powers, + And bade the legacy descend, + Down, down to us and ours. + + + XII. + + By centuries now the glorious hour we mark, + When to these shores they steered their shattered bark; + And still, as other centuries melt away, + Shall other ages come to keep the day. + When we are dust, who gather round this spot, + Our joys, our griefs, our very names forgot, + Here shall the dwellers of the land be seen, + To keep the memory of the Pilgrims green. + Nor here alone their praises shall go round, + Nor here alone their virtues shall abound-- + Broad as the empire of the free shall spread, + Far as the foot of man shall dare to tread, + Where oar hath never dipped, where human tongue + Hath never through the woods of ages rung, + There, where the eagle's scream and wild wolf's cry + Keep ceaseless day and night through earth and sky, + Even there, in after time, as toil and taste + Go forth in gladness to redeem the waste, + Even there shall rise, as grateful myriads throng, + Faith's holy prayer and freedom's joyful song; + There shall the flame that flashed from yonder ROCK, + Light up the land, till nature's final shock. + + + XIII. + + Yet while by life's endearments crowned, + To mark this day we gather round, + And to our nation's founders raise + The voice of gratitude and praise, + Shall not one line lament that lion race, + For us struck out from sweet creation's face? + Alas! alas! for them--those fated bands, + Whose monarch tread was on these broad, green lands; + Our Fathers called them savage--them, whose bread, + In the dark hour, those famished Fathers fed: + We call them savage, we, + Who hail the struggling free, + Of every clime and hue; + We, who would save + The branded slave, + And give him liberty he never knew: + We, who but now have caught the tale, + That turns each listening tyrant pale, + And blessed the winds and waves that bore + The tidings to our kindred shore; + The triumph-tidings pealing from that land, + Where up in arms insulted legions stand; + There, gathering round his bold compeers, + Where He, our own, our welcomed One, + Riper in glory than in years, + Down from his forfeit throne, + A craven monarch hurled, + And spurned him forth, a proverb to the world! + + + XIV. + + We call them savage--O be just! + Their outraged feelings scan; + A voice comes forth, 'tis from the dust-- + The savage was a man! + Think ye he loved not? who stood by, + And in his toils took part? + Woman was there to bless his eye-- + The savage had a heart! + Think ye he prayed not? when on high + He heard the thunders roll, + What bade him look beyond the sky? + The savage had a soul! + + + XV. + + I venerate the Pilgrim's cause, + Yet for the red man dare to plead-- + We bow to Heaven's recorded laws, + He turned to nature for a creed; + Beneath the pillared dome, + We seek our God in prayer; + Through boundless woods he loved to roam, + And the Great Spirit worshipped there: + But one, one fellow-throb with us he felt; + To one divinity with us he knelt; + Freedom, the self-same freedom we adore, + Bade him defend his violated shore; + He saw the cloud, ordained to grow, + And burst upon his hills in wo; + He saw his people withering by, + Beneath the invader's evil eye; + Strange feet were trampling on his fathers' bones; + At midnight hour he woke to gaze + Upon his happy cabin's blaze, + And listen to his children's dying groans: + He saw--and maddening at the sight, + Gave his bold bosom to the fight; + To tiger rage his soul was driven, + Mercy was not--nor sought nor given; + The pale man from his lands must fly; + He would be free--or he would die. + + + XVI. + + And was this savage? say, + Ye ancient few, + Who struggled through + Young freedom's trial-day-- + What first your sleeping wrath awoke? + On your own shores war's larum broke: + What turned to gall even kindred blood? + Round your own homes the oppressor stood: + This every warm affection chilled, + This every heart with vengeance thrilled, + And strengthened every hand; + From mound to mound, + The word went round-- + "Death for our native land!" + + + XVII. + + Ye mothers, too, breathe ye no sigh, + For them who thus could dare to die? + Are all your own dark hours forgot, + Of soul-sick suffering here? + Your pangs, as from yon mountain spot, + Death spoke in every booming shot, + That knelled upon your ear? + How oft that gloomy, glorious tale ye tell, + As round your knees your children's children hang, + Of them, the gallant Ones, ye loved so well, + Who to the conflict for their country sprang. + In pride, in all the pride of wo, + Ye tell of them, the brave laid low, + Who for their birthplace bled; + In pride, the pride of triumph then, + Ye tell of them, the matchless men, + From whom the invaders fled! + + + XVIII. + + And ye, this holy place who throng, + The annual theme to hear, + And bid the exulting song + Sound their great names from year to year; + Ye, who invoke the chisel's breathing grace, + In marble majesty their forms to trace; + Ye, who the sleeping rocks would raise, + To guard their dust and speak their praise; + Ye, who, should some other band + With hostile foot defile the land, + Feel that ye like them would wake, + Like them the yoke of bondage break, + Nor leave a battle-blade undrawn, + Though every hill a sepulchre should yawn-- + Say, have not ye one line for those, + One brother-line to spare, + Who rose but as your Fathers rose, + And dared as ye would dare? + + + XIX. + + Alas! for them--their day is o'er, + Their fires are out from hill and shore; + No more for them the wild deer bounds, + The plough is on their hunting grounds; + The pale man's axe rings through their woods, + The pale man's sail skims o'er their floods, + Their pleasant springs are dry; + Their children--look, by power oppressed, + Beyond the mountains of the west, + Their children go--to die. + + + XX. + + O doubly lost! oblivion's shadows close + Around their triumphs and their woes. + On other realms, whose suns have set, + Reflected radiance lingers yet; + There sage and bard have shed a light + That never shall go down in night; + There time-crowned columns stand on high, + To tell of them who cannot die; + Even we, who then were nothing, kneel + In homage there, and join earth's general peal. + But the doomed Indian leaves behind no trace, + To save his own, or serve another race; + With his frail breath his power has passed away, + His deeds, his thoughts are buried with his clay; + Nor lofty pile, nor glowing page + Shall link him to a future age, + Or give him with the past a rank: + His heraldry is but a broken bow, + His history but a tale of wrong and wo, + His very name must be a blank. + + + XXI. + + Cold, with the beast he slew, he sleeps; + O'er him no filial spirit weeps; + No crowds throng round, no anthem-notes ascend, + To bless his coming and embalm his end; + Even that he lived, is for his conqueror's tongue, + By foes alone his death-song must be sung; + No chronicles but theirs shall tell + His mournful doom to future times; + May these upon his virtues dwell, + And in his fate forget his crimes. + + + XXII. + + Peace to the mingling dead! + Beneath the turf we tread, + Chief, Pilgrim, Patriot sleep-- + All gone! how changed! and yet the same, + As when faith's herald bark first came + In sorrow o'er the deep. + Still from his noonday height, + The sun looks down in light; + Along the trackless realms of space, + The stars still run their midnight race; + The same green valleys smile, the same rough shore + Still echoes to the same wild ocean's roar:-- + But where the bristling night-wolf sprang + Upon his startled prey, + Where the fierce Indian's war-cry rang, + Through many a bloody fray; + And where the stern old Pilgrim prayed + In solitude and gloom, + Where the bold Patriot drew his blade, + And dared a patriot's doom-- + Behold! in liberty's unclouded blaze, + We lift our heads, a race of other days. + + + XXIII. + + All gone! the wild beast's lair is trodden out; + Proud temples stand in beauty there; + Our children raise their merry shout, + Where once the death-whoop vexed the air: + The Pilgrim--seek yon ancient place of graves, + Beneath that chapel's holy shade; + Ask, where the breeze the long grass waves, + Who, who within that spot are laid: + The Patriot--go, to fame's proud mount repair, + The tardy pile, slow rising there, + With tongueless eloquence shall tell + Of them who for their country fell. + + + XXIV. + + All gone! 'tis ours, the goodly land-- + Look round--the heritage behold; + Go forth--upon the mountains stand, + Then, if ye can, be cold. + See living vales by living waters blessed, + Their wealth see earth's dark caverns yield, + See ocean roll, in glory dressed, + For all a treasure, and round all a shield: + Hark to the shouts of praise + Rejoicing millions raise; + Gaze on the spires that rise, + To point them to the skies, + Unfearing and unfeared; + Then, if ye can, O then forget + To whom ye owe the sacred debt-- + The Pilgrim race revered! + The men who set faith's burning lights + Upon these everlasting heights, + To guide their children through the years of time; + The men that glorious law who taught, + Unshrinking liberty of thought, + And roused the nations with the truth sublime. + + + XXV. + + Forget? no, never--ne'er shall die, + Those names to memory dear; + I read the promise in each eye + That beams upon me here. + Descendants of a twice-recorded race, + Long may ye here your lofty lineage grace; + 'Tis not for you home's tender tie + To rend, and brave the waste of waves; + 'Tis not for you to rouse and die, + Or yield and live a line of slaves; + The deeds of danger and of death are done: + Upheld by inward power alone, + Unhonoured by the world's loud tongue, + 'Tis yours to do unknown, + And then to die unsung. + To other days, to other men belong + The penman's plaudit and the poet's song; + Enough for glory has been wrought, + By you be humbler praises sought; + In peace and truth life's journey run, + And keep unsullied what your Fathers won. + + + XXVI. + + Take then my prayer, Ye dwellers of this spot-- + Be yours a noiseless and a guiltless lot. + I plead not that ye bask + In the rank beams of vulgar fame; + To light your steps I ask + A purer and a holier flame. + No bloated growth I supplicate for you, + No pining multitude, no pampered few; + 'Tis not alone to coffer gold, + Nor spreading borders to behold; + 'Tis not fast-swelling crowds to win, + The refuse-ranks of want and sin-- + This be the kind decree: + Be ye by goodness crowned, + Revered, though not renowned; + Poor, if Heaven will, but Free! + Free from the tyrants of the hour, + The clans of wealth, the clans of power, + The coarse, cold scorners of their God; + Free from the taint of sin, + The leprosy that feeds within, + And free, in mercy, from the bigot's rod. + + + XXVII. + + The sceptre's might, the crosier's pride, + Ye do not fear; + No conquest blade, in life-blood dyed, + Drops terror here-- + Let there not lurk a subtler snare, + For wisdom's footsteps to beware; + The shackle and the stake, + Our Fathers fled; + Ne'er may their children wake + A fouler wrath, a deeper dread; + Ne'er may the craft that fears the flesh to bind, + Lock its hard fetters on the mind; + Quenched be the fiercer flame + That kindles with a name; + The pilgrim's faith, the pilgrim's zeal, + Let more than pilgrim kindness seal; + Be purity of life the test, + Leave to the heart, to Heaven, the rest. + + + XXVIII. + + So, when our children turn the page, + To ask what triumphs marked our age, + What we achieved to challenge praise, + Through the long line of future days, + This let them read, and hence instruction draw: + "Here were the Many blessed, + Here found the virtues rest, + Faith linked with love and liberty with law; + Here industry to comfort led, + Her book of light here learning spread; + Here the warm heart of youth + Was wooed to temperance and to truth; + Here hoary age was found, + By wisdom and by reverence crowned. + No great, but guilty fame + Here kindled pride, that should have kindled shame; + THESE chose the better, happier part, + That poured its sunlight o'er the heart; + That crowned their homes with peace and health, + And weighed Heaven's smile beyond earth's wealth; + Far from the thorny paths of life + They stood, a living lesson to their race, + Rich in the charities of life, + Man in his strength, and Woman in her grace; + In purity and love THEIR pilgrim road they trod, + And when they served their neighbor felt they served their God." + + + XXIX. + + This may not wake the poet's verse, + This souls of fire may ne'er rehearse + In crowd-delighting voice; + Yet o'er the record shall the patriot bend, + His quiet praise the moralist shall lend, + And all the good rejoice. + + + XXX. + + This be our story then, in that far day, + When others come their kindred debt to pay: + In that far day?--O what shall be, + In this dominion of the free, + When we and ours have rendered up our trust, + And men unborn shall tread above our dust? + O what shall be?--He, He alone, + The dread response can make, + Who sitteth on the only throne, + That time shall never shake; + Before whose all-beholding eyes + Ages sweep on, and empires sink and rise. + Then let the song to Him begun, + To Him in reverence end: + Look down in love, Eternal One, + And Thy good cause defend; + Here, late and long, put forth Thy hand, + To guard and guide the Pilgrim's land. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Ode Pronounced Before the +Inhabitants of Boston, September the Seventeenth, 1830, at the Centennial +Celebration of the Settlement of the City, by Charles Sprague + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ODE PRONOUNCED BEFORE THE INHABITANTS OF BOSTON *** + +***** This file should be named 22626.txt or 22626.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/2/22626/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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