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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/9575.txt b/9575.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa7ae83 --- /dev/null +++ b/9575.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3393 @@ +Project Gutenberg EBook, Anti-Slavery Poems I. by Whittier +Volume III., The Works of Whittier: Anti-Slavery, Labor and Reform +#20 in our series by John Greenleaf Whittier + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + + +Title: Anti-Slavery Poems I. + From Volume III., The Works of Whittier: Anti-Slavery + Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Release Date: December 2005 [EBook #9575] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 15, 2003] + + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS I. *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + + + + ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS + + SONGS OF LABOR AND REFORM + + + BY + + JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + + +CONTENTS: + + +ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS: + +TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON +TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE +THE SLAVE-SHIPS +EXPOSTULATION +HYMN: "THOU, WHOSE PRESENCE WENT BEFORE" +THE YANKEE GIRL +THE HUNTERS OF MEN +STANZAS FOR THE TIMES +CLERICAL OPPRESSORS +A SUMMONS +TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS +THE MORAL WARFARE +RITNER +THE PASTORAL LETTER +HYMN: "O HOLY FATHER! JUST AND TRUE" +THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER +PENNSYLVANIA HALL +THE NEW YEAR +THE RELIC +THE WORLD'S CONVENTION +MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA +THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE +THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN + +TEXAS + VOICE OF NEW ENGLAND + TO FANEUIL HALL + TO MASSACHUSETTS + NEW HAMPSHIRE + THE PINE-TREE +TO A SOUTHERN STATESMAN +AT WASHINGTON +THE BRANDED HAND +THE FREED ISLANDS +A LETTER +LINES FROM A LETTER TO A YOUNG CLERICAL FRIEND +DANIEL NEALL +SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT +To DELAWARE +YORKTOWN +RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE +THE LOST STATESMAN +THE SLAVES OF MARTINIQUE +THE CURSE OF THE CHARTER-BREAKERS +PAEAN +THE CRISIS +LINES ON THE PORTRAIT OF A CELEBRATED PUBLISHER + + +DERNE +A SABBATH SCENE +IN THE EVIL DAY +MOLOCH IN STATE STREET +OFFICIAL PIETY +THE RENDITION +ARISEN AT LAST +THE HASCHISH +FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS' SAKE +THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS +LETTER FROM A MISSIONARY OF THE METHODIST + EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH, IN KANSAS, TO A + DISTINGUISHED POLITICIAN +BURIAL OF BARBER +TO PENNSYLVANIA +LE MARAIS DU CYGNE. +THE PASS OF THE SIERRA +A SONG FOR THE TIME +WHAT OF THE DAY? +A SONG, INSCRIBED TO THE FREMONT CLUBS +THE PANORAMA +ON A PRAYER-BOOK +THE SUMMONS +TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD + +IN WAR TIME. + TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL AND HARRIET W. SEWALL + THY WILL BE DONE + A WORD FOR THE HOUR + "EIN FESTE BURG IST UNSER GOTT" + TO JOHN C. FREMONT + THE WATCHERS + TO ENGLISHMEN + MITHRIDATES AT CHIOS + AT PORT ROYAL + ASTRAEA AT THE CAPITOL + THE BATTLE AUTUMN OF 1862 + OF ST. HELENA'S ISLAND, S. C. + THE PROCLAMATION + ANNIVERSARY POEM + BARBARA FRIETCHIE + HAT THE BIRDS SAID + THE MANTLE OF ST. JOHN DE MATRA + LADS DEO! + HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION OF EMANCIPATION + AT NEWBURYPORT + +AFTER THE WAR. + THE PEACE AUTUMN + TO THE THIRTY-NINTH CONGRESS + THE HIVE AT GETTYSBURG + HOWARD AT ATLANTA + THE EMANCIPATION GROUP + THE JUBILEE SINGERS + GARRISON + + + +SONGS OF LABOR AND REFORM: + +THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME +DEMOCRACY +THE GALLOWS +SEED-TIME AND HARVEST +TO THE REFORMERS OF ENGLAND +THE HUMAN SACRIFICE +SONGS OF LABOR + DEDICATION + THE SHOEMAKERS + THE FISHERMEN + THE LUMBERMEN + THE SHIP-BUILDERS + THE DROVERS + THE HUSKERS +THE REFORMER +THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS +THE PRISONER FOR DEBT +THE CHRISTIAN TOURISTS +THE MEN OF OLD +TO PIUS IX. +CALEF IN BOSTON +OUR STATE +THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES +THE PEACE OF EUROPE +ASTRAEA +THE DISENTHRALLED +THE POOR VOTER ON ELECTION DAY +THE DREAM OF PIO NONO +THE VOICES +THE NEW EXODUS +THE CONQUEST OF FINLAND +THE EVE OF ELECTION +FROM PERUGIA +ITALY +FREEDOM IN BRAZIL +AFTER ELECTION +DISARMAMENT +THE PROBLEM +OUR COUNTRY +ON THE BIG HORN + +NOTES + + + + +ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS + + .......... + +TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON + +CHAMPION of those who groan beneath +Oppression's iron hand +In view of penury, hate, and death, +I see thee fearless stand. +Still bearing up thy lofty brow, +In the steadfast strength of truth, +In manhood sealing well the vow +And promise of thy youth. + +Go on, for thou hast chosen well; +On in the strength of God! +Long as one human heart shall swell +Beneath the tyrant's rod. +Speak in a slumbering nation's ear, +As thou hast ever spoken, +Until the dead in sin shall hear, +The fetter's link be broken! + +I love thee with a brother's love, +I feel my pulses thrill, +To mark thy spirit soar above +The cloud of human ill. +My heart hath leaped to answer thine, +And echo back thy words, +As leaps the warrior's at the shine +And flash of kindred swords! + +They tell me thou art rash and vain, +A searcher after fame; +That thou art striving but to gain +A long-enduring name; +That thou hast nerved the Afric's hand +And steeled the Afric's heart, +To shake aloft his vengeful brand, +And rend his chain apart. + +Have I not known thee well, and read +Thy mighty purpose long? +And watched the trials which have made +Thy human spirit strong? +And shall the slanderer's demon breath +Avail with one like me, +To dim the sunshine of my faith +And earnest trust in thee? + +Go on, the dagger's point may glare +Amid thy pathway's gloom; +The fate which sternly threatens there +Is glorious martyrdom +Then onward with a martyr's zeal; +And wait thy sure reward +When man to man no more shall kneel, +And God alone be Lord! +1832. + + + + +TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. + +Toussaint L'Ouverture, the black chieftain of Hayti, was a slave on the +plantation "de Libertas," belonging to M. Bayou. When the rising of the +negroes took place, in 1791, Toussaint refused to join them until he had +aided M. Bayou and his family to escape to Baltimore. The white man had +discovered in Toussaint many noble qualities, and had instructed him in +some of the first branches of education; and the preservation of his +life was owing to the negro's gratitude for this kindness. In 1797, +Toussaint L'Ouverture was appointed, by the French government, +General-in-Chief of the armies of St. Domingo, and, as such, signed the +Convention with General Maitland for the evacuation of the island by the +British. From this period, until 1801, the island, under the government +of Toussaint, was happy, tranquil, and prosperous. The miserable +attempt of Napoleon to re-establish slavery in St. Domingo, although it +failed of its intended object, proved fatal to the negro chieftain. +Treacherously seized by Leclerc, he was hurried on board a vessel by +night, and conveyed to France, where he was confined in a cold +subterranean dungeon, at Besancon, where, in April, 1803, he died. The +treatment of Toussaint finds a parallel only in the murder of the Duke +D'Enghien. It was the remark of Godwin, in his Lectures, that the West +India Islands, since their first discovery by Columbus, could not boast +of a single name which deserves comparison with that of Toussaint +L'Ouverture. + +'T WAS night. The tranquil moonlight smile +With which Heaven dreams of Earth, shed down +Its beauty on the Indian isle,-- +On broad green field and white-walled town; +And inland waste of rock and wood, +In searching sunshine, wild and rude, +Rose, mellowed through the silver gleam, +Soft as the landscape of a dream. +All motionless and dewy wet, +Tree, vine, and flower in shadow met +The myrtle with its snowy bloom, +Crossing the nightshade's solemn gloom,-- +The white cecropia's silver rind +Relieved by deeper green behind, +The orange with its fruit of gold, +The lithe paullinia's verdant fold, +The passion-flower, with symbol holy, +Twining its tendrils long and lowly, +The rhexias dark, and cassia tall, +And proudly rising over all, +The kingly palm's imperial stem, +Crowned with its leafy diadem, +Star-like, beneath whose sombre shade, +The fiery-winged cucullo played! + +How lovely was thine aspect, then, +Fair island of the Western Sea +Lavish of beauty, even when +Thy brutes were happier than thy men, +For they, at least, were free! +Regardless of thy glorious clime, +Unmindful of thy soil of flowers, +The toiling negro sighed, that Time +No faster sped his hours. +For, by the dewy moonlight still, +He fed the weary-turning mill, +Or bent him in the chill morass, +To pluck the long and tangled grass, +And hear above his scar-worn back +The heavy slave-whip's frequent crack +While in his heart one evil thought +In solitary madness wrought, +One baleful fire surviving still +The quenching of the immortal mind, +One sterner passion of his kind, +Which even fetters could not kill, +The savage hope, to deal, erelong, +A vengeance bitterer than his wrong! + +Hark to that cry! long, loud, and shrill, +From field and forest, rock and hill, +Thrilling and horrible it rang, +Around, beneath, above; +The wild beast from his cavern sprang, +The wild bird from her grove! +Nor fear, nor joy, nor agony +Were mingled in that midnight cry; +But like the lion's growl of wrath, +When falls that hunter in his path +Whose barbed arrow, deeply set, +Is rankling in his bosom yet, +It told of hate, full, deep, and strong, +Of vengeance kindling out of wrong; +It was as if the crimes of years-- +The unrequited toil, the tears, +The shame and hate, which liken well +Earth's garden to the nether hell-- +Had found in nature's self a tongue, +On which the gathered horror hung; +As if from cliff, and stream, and glen +Burst on the' startled ears of men +That voice which rises unto God, +Solemn and stern,--the cry of blood! +It ceased, and all was still once more, +Save ocean chafing on his shore, +The sighing of the wind between +The broad banana's leaves of green, +Or bough by restless plumage shook, +Or murmuring voice of mountain brook. +Brief was the silence. Once again +Pealed to the skies that frantic yell, +Glowed on the heavens a fiery stain, +And flashes rose and fell; +And painted on the blood-red sky, +Dark, naked arms were tossed on high; +And, round the white man's lordly hall, +Trod, fierce and free, the brute he made; +And those who crept along the wall, +And answered to his lightest call +With more than spaniel dread, +The creatures of his lawless beck, +Were trampling on his very neck +And on the night-air, wild and clear, +Rose woman's shriek of more than fear; +For bloodied arms were round her thrown, +And dark cheeks pressed against her own! +Where then was he whose fiery zeal +Had taught the trampled heart to feel, +Until despair itself grew strong, +And vengeance fed its torch from wrong? +Now, when the thunderbolt is speeding; +Now, when oppression's heart is bleeding; +Now, when the latent curse of Time +Is raining down in fire and blood, +That curse which, through long years of crime, +Has gathered, drop by drop, its flood,-- +Why strikes he not, the foremost one, +Where murder's sternest deeds are done? + +He stood the aged palms beneath, +That shadowed o'er his humble door, +Listening, with half-suspended breath, +To the wild sounds of fear and death, +Toussaint L'Ouverture! +What marvel that his heart beat high! +The blow for freedom had been given, +And blood had answered to the cry +Which Earth sent up to Heaven! +What marvel that a fierce delight +Smiled grimly o'er his brow of night, +As groan and shout and bursting flame +Told where the midnight tempest came, +With blood and fire along its van, +And death behind! he was a Man! + +Yes, dark-souled chieftain! if the light +Of mild Religion's heavenly ray +Unveiled not to thy mental sight +The lowlier and the purer way, +In which the Holy Sufferer trod, +Meekly amidst the sons of crime; +That calm reliance upon God +For justice in His own good time; +That gentleness to which belongs +Forgiveness for its many wrongs, +Even as the primal martyr, kneeling +For mercy on the evil-dealing; +Let not the favored white man name +Thy stern appeal, with words of blame. +Then, injured Afric! for the shame +Of thy own daughters, vengeance came +Full on the scornful hearts of those, +Who mocked thee in thy nameless woes, +And to thy hapless children gave +One choice,--pollution or the grave! + +Has he not, with the light of heaven +Broadly around him, made the same? +Yea, on his thousand war-fields striven, +And gloried in his ghastly shame? +Kneeling amidst his brother's blood, +To offer mockery unto God, +As if the High and Holy One +Could smile on deeds of murder done! +As if a human sacrifice +Were purer in His holy eyes, +Though offered up by Christian hands, +Than the foul rites of Pagan lands! + + . . . . . . . . . . . + +Sternly, amidst his household band, +His carbine grasped within his hand, +The white man stood, prepared and still, +Waiting the shock of maddened men, +Unchained, and fierce as tigers, when +The horn winds through their caverned hill. +And one was weeping in his sight, +The sweetest flower of all the isle, +The bride who seemed but yesternight +Love's fair embodied smile. +And, clinging to her trembling knee, +Looked up the form of infancy, +With tearful glance in either face +The secret of its fear to trace. + +"Ha! stand or die!" The white man's eye +His steady musket gleamed along, +As a tall Negro hastened nigh, +With fearless step and strong. +"What, ho, Toussaint!" A moment more, +His shadow crossed the lighted floor. +"Away!" he shouted; "fly with me, +The white man's bark is on the sea; +Her sails must catch the seaward wind, +For sudden vengeance sweeps behind. +Our brethren from their graves have spoken, +The yoke is spurned, the chain is broken; +On all the bills our fires are glowing, +Through all the vales red blood is flowing +No more the mocking White shall rest +His foot upon the Negro's breast; +No more, at morn or eve, shall drip +The warm blood from the driver's whip +Yet, though Toussaint has vengeance sworn +For all the wrongs his race have borne, +Though for each drop of Negro blood +The white man's veins shall pour a flood; +Not all alone the sense of ill +Around his heart is lingering still, +Nor deeper can the white man feel +The generous warmth of grateful zeal. +Friends of the Negro! fly with me, +The path is open to the sea: +Away, for life!" He spoke, and pressed +The young child to his manly breast, +As, headlong, through the cracking cane, +Down swept the dark insurgent train, +Drunken and grim, with shout and yell +Howled through the dark, like sounds from hell. + +Far out, in peace, the white man's sail +Swayed free before the sunrise gale. +Cloud-like that island hung afar, +Along the bright horizon's verge, +O'er which the curse of servile war +Rolled its red torrent, surge on surge; +And he, the Negro champion, where +In the fierce tumult struggled he? +Go trace him by the fiery glare +Of dwellings in the midnight air, +The yells of triumph and despair, +The streams that crimson to the sea! + +Sleep calmly in thy dungeon-tomb, +Beneath Besancon's alien sky, +Dark Haytien! for the time shall come, +Yea, even now is nigh, +When, everywhere, thy name shall be +Redeemed from color's infamy; +And men shall learn to speak of thee +As one of earth's great spirits, born +In servitude, and nursed in scorn, +Casting aside the weary weight +And fetters of its low estate, +In that strong majesty of soul +Which knows no color, tongue, or clime, +Which still hath spurned the base control +Of tyrants through all time! +Far other hands than mine may wreathe +The laurel round thy brow of death, +And speak thy praise, as one whose word +A thousand fiery spirits stirred, +Who crushed his foeman as a worm, +Whose step on human hearts fell firm: + +Be mine the better task to find +A tribute for thy lofty mind, +Amidst whose gloomy vengeance shone +Some milder virtues all thine own, +Some gleams of feeling pure and warm, +Like sunshine on a sky of storm, +Proofs that the Negro's heart retains +Some nobleness amid its chains,-- +That kindness to the wronged is never +Without its excellent reward, +Holy to human-kind and ever +Acceptable to God. +1833. + + + + +THE SLAVE-SHIPS. + +"That fatal, that perfidious bark, +Built I' the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark." + MILTON'S Lycidas. + +"The French ship Le Rodeur, with a crew of twenty-two men, and with one +hundred and sixty negro slaves, sailed from Bonny, in Africa, April, +1819. On approaching the line, a terrible malady broke out,--an +obstinate disease of the eyes,--contagious, and altogether beyond the +resources of medicine. It was aggravated by the scarcity of water among +the slaves (only half a wine-glass per day being allowed to an +individual), and by the extreme impurity of the air in which they +breathed. By the advice of the physician, they were brought upon deck +occasionally; but some of the poor wretches, locking themselves in each +other's arms, leaped overboard, in the hope, which so universally +prevails among them, of being swiftly transported to their own homes in +Africa. To check this, the captain ordered several who were stopped in +the attempt to be shot, or hanged, before their companions. The disease +extended to the crew; and one after another were smitten with it, until +only one remained unaffected. Yet even this dreadful condition did not +preclude calculation: to save the expense of supporting slaves rendered +unsalable, and to obtain grounds for a claim against the underwriters, +thirty-six of the negroes, having become blind, were thrown into the sea +and drowned!" Speech of M. Benjamin Constant, in the French Chamber of +Deputies, June 17, 1820. + +In the midst of their dreadful fears lest the solitary individual, whose +sight remained unaffected, should also be seized with the malady, a sail +was discovered. It was the Spanish slaver, Leon. The same disease had +been there; and, horrible to tell, all the crew had become blind! Unable +to assist each other, the vessels parted. The Spanish ship has never +since been heard of. The Rodeur reached Guadaloupe on the 21st of June; +the only man who had escaped the disease, and had thus been enabled to +steer the slaver into port, caught it in three days after its arrival.-- +Bibliotheque Ophthalmologique for November, 1819. + +"ALL ready?" cried the captain; +"Ay, ay!" the seamen said; +"Heave up the worthless lubbers,-- +The dying and the dead." +Up from the slave-ship's prison +Fierce, bearded heads were thrust: +"Now let the sharks look to it,-- +Toss up the dead ones first!" + +Corpse after corpse came up, +Death had been busy there; +Where every blow is mercy, +Why should the spoiler spare? +Corpse after corpse they cast +Sullenly from the ship, +Yet bloody with the traces +Of fetter-link and whip. + +Gloomily stood the captain, +With his arms upon his breast, +With his cold brow sternly knotted, +And his iron lip compressed. + +"Are all the dead dogs over?" +Growled through that matted lip; +"The blind ones are no better, +Let's lighten the good ship." + +Hark! from the ship's dark bosom, +The very sounds of hell! +The ringing clank of iron, +The maniac's short, sharp yell! +The hoarse, low curse, throat-stifled; +The starving infant's moan, +The horror of a breaking heart +Poured through a mother's groan. + +Up from that loathsome prison +The stricken blind ones cane +Below, had all been darkness, +Above, was still the same. +Yet the holy breath of heaven +Was sweetly breathing there, +And the heated brow of fever +Cooled in the soft sea air. + +"Overboard with them, shipmates!" +Cutlass and dirk were plied; +Fettered and blind, one after one, +Plunged down the vessel's side. +The sabre smote above, +Beneath, the lean shark lay, +Waiting with wide and bloody jaw +His quick and human prey. + +God of the earth! what cries +Rang upward unto thee? +Voices of agony and blood, +From ship-deck and from sea. +The last dull plunge was heard, +The last wave caught its stain, +And the unsated shark looked up +For human hearts in vain. + + . . . . . . . . . . . . + +Red glowed the western waters, +The setting sun was there, +Scattering alike on wave and cloud +His fiery mesh of hair. +Amidst a group in blindness, +A solitary eye +Gazed, from the burdened slaver's deck, +Into that burning sky. + +"A storm," spoke out the gazer, +"Is gathering and at hand; +Curse on 't, I'd give my other eye +For one firm rood of land." +And then he laughed, but only +His echoed laugh replied, +For the blinded and the suffering +Alone were at his side. + +Night settled on the waters, +And on a stormy heaven, +While fiercely on that lone ship's track +The thunder-gust was driven. +"A sail!--thank God, a sail!" +And as the helmsman spoke, +Up through the stormy murmur +A shout of gladness broke. + + +Down came the stranger vessel, +Unheeding on her way, +So near that on the slaver's deck +Fell off her driven spray. +"Ho! for the love of mercy, +We're perishing and blind!" +A wail of utter agony +Came back upon the wind. + +"Help us! for we are stricken +With blindness every one; +Ten days we've floated fearfully, +Unnoting star or sun. +Our ship 's the slaver Leon,-- +We've but a score on board; +Our slaves are all gone over,-- +Help, for the love of God!" + +On livid brows of agony +The broad red lightning shone; +But the roar of wind and thunder +Stifled the answering groan; +Wailed from the broken waters +A last despairing cry, +As, kindling in the stormy' light, +The stranger ship went by. + + . . . . . . . . . + +In the sunny Guadaloupe +A dark-hulled vessel lay, +With a crew who noted never +The nightfall or the day. +The blossom of the orange +Was white by every stream, +And tropic leaf, and flower, and bird +Were in the warns sunbeam. + +And the sky was bright as ever, +And the moonlight slept as well, +On the palm-trees by the hillside, +And the streamlet of the dell: +And the glances of the Creole +Were still as archly deep, +And her smiles as full as ever +Of passion and of sleep. + +But vain were bird and blossom, +The green earth and the sky, +And the smile of human faces, +To the slaver's darkened eye; +At the breaking of the morning, +At the star-lit evening time, +O'er a world of light and beauty +Fell the blackness of his crime. +1834. + + + + +EXPOSTULATION. + +Dr. Charles Follen, a German patriot, who had come to America for the +freedom which was denied him in his native land, allied himself with the +abolitionists, and at a convention of delegates from all the anti- +slavery organizations in New England, held at Boston in May, 1834, was +chairman of a committee to prepare an address to the people of New +England. Toward the close of the address occurred the passage which +suggested these lines. "The despotism which our fathers could not bear +in their native country is expiring, and the sword of justice in her +reformed hands has applied its exterminating edge to slavery. Shall the +United States--the free United States, which could not bear the bonds of +a king--cradle the bondage which a king is abolishing? Shall a Republic +be less free than a Monarchy? Shall we, in the vigor and buoyancy of our +manhood, be less energetic in righteousness than a kingdom in its age?" +--Dr. Follen's Address. + +"Genius of America!--Spirit of our free institutions!--where art thou? +How art thou fallen, O Lucifer! son of the morning,--how art thou fallen +from Heaven! Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy +coming! The kings of the earth cry out to thee, Aha! Aha! Art thou +become like unto us?"--Speech of Samuel J. May. + +OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! +Slaves, in a land of light and law! +Slaves, crouching on the very plains +Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war! +A groan from Eutaw's haunted wood, +A. wail where Camden's martyrs fell, +By every shrine of patriot blood, +From Moultrie's wall and Jasper's well! + +By storied hill and hallowed grot, +By mossy wood and marshy glen, +Whence rang of old the rifle-shot, +And hurrying shout of Marion's men! +The groan of breaking hearts is there, +The falling lash, the fetter's clank! +Slaves, slaves are breathing in that air +Which old De Kalb and Sumter drank! + +What, ho! our countrymen in chains! +The whip on woman's shrinking flesh! +Our soil yet reddening with the stains +Caught from her scourging, warm and fresh! +What! mothers from their children riven! +What! God's own image bought and sold! +Americans to market driven, +And bartered as the brute for gold! + +Speak! shall their agony of prayer +Come thrilling to our hearts in vain? +To us whose fathers scorned to bear +The paltry menace of a chain; +To us, whose boast is loud and long +Of holy Liberty and Light; +Say, shall these writhing slaves of Wrong +Plead vainly for their plundered Right? + +What! shall we send, with lavish breath, +Our sympathies across the wave, +Where Manhood, on the field of death, +Strikes for his freedom or a grave? +Shall prayers go up, and hymns be sung +For Greece, the Moslem fetter spurning, +And millions hail with pen and tongue +Our light on all her altars burning? + +Shall Belgium feel, and gallant France, +By Vendome's pile and Schoenbrun's wall, +And Poland, gasping on her lance, +The impulse of our cheering call? +And shall the slave, beneath our eye, +Clank o'er our fields his hateful chain? +And toss his fettered arms on high, +And groan for Freedom's gift, in vain? + +Oh, say, shall Prussia's banner be +A refuge for the stricken slave? +And shall the Russian serf go free +By Baikal's lake and Neva's wave? +And shall the wintry-bosomed Dane +Relax the iron hand of pride, +And bid his bondmen cast the chain +From fettered soul and limb aside? + +Shall every flap of England's flag +Proclaim that all around are free, +From farthest Ind to each blue crag +That beetles o'er the Western Sea? +And shall we scoff at Europe's kings, +When Freedom's fire is dim with us, +And round our country's altar clings +The damning shade of Slavery's curse? + +Go, let us ask of Constantine +To loose his grasp on Poland's throat; +And beg the lord of Mahmoud's line +To spare the struggling Suliote; +Will not the scorching answer come +From turbaned Turk, and scornful Russ +"Go, loose your fettered slaves at home, +Then turn, and ask the like of us!" + +Just God! and shall we calmly rest, +The Christian's scorn, the heathen's mirth, +Content to live the lingering jest +And by-word of a mocking Earth? +Shall our own glorious land retain +That curse which Europe scorns to bear? +Shall our own brethren drag the chain +Which not even Russia's menials wear? + +Up, then, in Freedom's manly part, +From graybeard eld to fiery youth, +And on the nation's naked heart +Scatter the living coals of Truth! +Up! while ye slumber, deeper yet +The shadow of our fame is growing! +Up! while ye pause, our sun may set +In blood, around our altars flowing! + +Oh! rouse ye, ere the storm comes forth, +The gathered wrath of God and man, +Like that which wasted Egypt's earth, +When hail and fire above it ran. +Hear ye no warnings in the air? +Feel ye no earthquake underneath? +Up, up! why will ye slumber where +The sleeper only wakes in death? + +Rise now for Freedom! not in strife +Like that your sterner fathers saw, +The awful waste of human life, +The glory and the guilt of war:' +But break the chain, the yoke remove, +And smite to earth Oppression's rod, +With those mild arms of Truth and Love, +Made mighty through the living God! + +Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, +And leave no traces where it stood; +Nor longer let its idol drink +His daily cup of human blood; +But rear another altar there, +To Truth and Love and Mercy given, +And Freedom's gift, and Freedom's prayer, +Shall call an answer down from Heaven! +1834 + + + + +HYMN. + +Written for the meeting of the Anti-Slavery Society, at Chatham Street +Chapel, New York, held on the 4th of the seventh month, 1834. + + +O THOU, whose presence went before +Our fathers in their weary way, +As with Thy chosen moved of yore +The fire by night, the cloud by day! + +When from each temple of the free, +A nation's song ascends to Heaven, +Most Holy Father! unto Thee +May not our humble prayer be given? + +Thy children all, though hue and form +Are varied in Thine own good will, +With Thy own holy breathings warm, +And fashioned in Thine image still. + +We thank Thee, Father! hill and plain +Around us wave their fruits once more, +And clustered vine, and blossomed grain, +Are bending round each cottage door. + +And peace is here; and hope and love +Are round us as a mantle thrown, +And unto Thee, supreme above, +The knee of prayer is bowed alone. + +But oh, for those this day can bring, +As unto us, no joyful thrill; +For those who, under Freedom's wing, +Are bound in Slavery's fetters still: + +For those to whom Thy written word +Of light and love is never given; +For those whose ears have never heard +The promise and the hope of heaven! + +For broken heart, and clouded mind, +Whereon no human mercies fall; +Oh, be Thy gracious love inclined, +Who, as a Father, pitiest all! + +And grant, O Father! that the time +Of Earth's deliverance may be near, +When every land and tongue and clime +The message of Thy love shall hear; + +When, smitten as with fire from heaven, +The captive's chain shall sink in dust, +And to his fettered soul be given +The glorious freedom of the just, + + + + +THE YANKEE GIRL. + +SHE sings by her wheel at that low cottage-door, +Which the long evening shadow is stretching before, +With a music as sweet as the music which seems +Breathed softly and faint in the ear of our dreams! + +How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye, +Like a star glancing out from the blue of the sky! +And lightly and freely her dark tresses play +O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they! + +Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door, +The haughty and rich to the humble and poor? +'T is the great Southern planter, the master who waves +His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves. + +"Nay, Ellen, for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin, +Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin; +Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel, +Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel! + +"But thou art too lovely and precious a gem +To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them; +For shame, Ellen, shame, cast thy bondage aside, +And away to the South, as my blessing and pride. + +"Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong, +But where flowers are blossoming all the year long, +Where the shade of the palm-tree is over my home, +And the lemon and orange are white in their bloom! + +"Oh, come to my home, where my servants shall all +Depart at thy bidding and come at thy call; +They shall heed thee as mistress with trembling and awe, +And each wish of thy heart shall be felt as a law." + +"Oh, could ye have seen her--that pride of our girls-- +Arise and cast back the dark wealth of her curls, +With a scorn in her eye which the gazer could feel, +And a glance like the sunshine that flashes on steel! + +"Go back, haughty Southron! thy treasures of gold +Are dim with the blood of the hearts thou halt sold; +Thy home may be lovely, but round it I hear +The crack of the whip and the footsteps of fear! + +"And the sky of thy South may be brighter than ours, +And greener thy landscapes, and fairer thy' flowers; +But dearer the blast round our mountains which raves, +Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves! + +"Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel, +With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel; +Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be +In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee!" +1835. + + + + +THE HUNTERS OF MEN. + +These lines were written when the orators of the American Colonization +Society were demanding that the free blacks should be sent to Africa, +and opposing Emancipation unless expatriation followed. See the report +of the proceedings of the society at its annual meeting in 1834. + +HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen, +Through cane-brake and forest,--the hunting of men? +The lords of our land to this hunting have gone, +As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn; +Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip, +And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip! +All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match, +Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch. +So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen, +Through cane-brake and forest,--the hunting of men! + +Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride +In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride! +The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind, +Just screening the politic statesman behind; +The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer, +The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there. +And woman, kind woman, wife, widow, and maid, +For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid +Her foot's in the stirrup, her hand on the rein, +How blithely she rides to the hunting of men! + +Oh, goodly and grand is our hunting to see, +In this "land of the brave and this home of the free." +Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine, +All mounting the saddle, all grasping the rein; +Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin +Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin! +Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay +Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey? +Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when +All roughly they ride to the hunting of men? + +Ho! alms for our hunters! all weary and faint, +Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint. +The horn is wound faintly, the echoes are still, +Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill. +Haste, alms for our hunters! the hunted once more +Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore +What right have they here in the home of the white, +Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right? +Ho! alms for the hunters! or never again +Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men! + +Alms, alms for our hunters! why will ye delay, +When their pride and their glory are melting away? +The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own, +Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone? +The politic statesman looks back with a sigh, +There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye. +Oh, haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail, +And the head of his steed take the place of the tail. +Oh, haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then, +For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men? +1835. + + + + +STANZAS FOR THE TIMES. + +The "Times" referred to were those evil times of the pro-slavery meeting +in Faneuil Hall, August 21, 1835, in which a demand was made for the +suppression of free speech, lest it should endanger the foundation of +commercial society. + +Is this the land our fathers loved, +The freedom which they toiled to win? +Is this the soil whereon they moved? +Are these the graves they slumber in? +Are we the sons by whom are borne +The mantles which the dead have worn? + +And shall we crouch above these graves, +With craven soul and fettered lip? +Yoke in with marked and branded slaves, +And tremble at the driver's whip? +Bend to the earth our pliant knees, +And speak but as our masters please. + +Shall outraged Nature cease to feel? +Shall Mercy's tears no longer flow? +Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel, +The dungeon's gloom, the assassin's blow, +Turn back the spirit roused to save +The Truth, our Country, and the Slave? + +Of human skulls that shrine was made, +Round which the priests of Mexico +Before their loathsome idol prayed; +Is Freedom's altar fashioned so? +And must we yield to Freedom's God, +As offering meet, the negro's blood? + +Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought +Which well might shame extremest hell? +Shall freemen lock the indignant thought? +Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell? +Shall Honor bleed?--shall Truth succumb? +Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb? + +No; by each spot of haunted ground, +Where Freedom weeps her children's fall; +By Plymouth's rock, and Bunker's mound; +By Griswold's stained and shattered wall; +By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade; +By all the memories of our dead. + +By their enlarging souls, which burst +The bands and fetters round them set; +By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed +Within our inmost bosoms, yet, +By all above, around, below, +Be ours the indignant answer,--No! + +No; guided by our country's laws, +For truth, and right, and suffering man, +Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause, +As Christians may, as freemen can! +Still pouring on unwilling ears +That truth oppression only fears. + +What! shall we guard our neighbor still, +While woman shrieks beneath his rod, +And while he tramples down at will +The image of a common God? +Shall watch and ward be round him set, +Of Northern nerve and bayonet? + +And shall we know and share with him +The danger and the growing shame? +And see our Freedom's light grow dim, +Which should have filled the world with flame? +And, writhing, feel, where'er we turn, +A world's reproach around us burn? + +Is 't not enough that this is borne? +And asks our haughty neighbor more? +Must fetters which his slaves have worn +Clank round the Yankee farmer's door? +Must he be told, beside his plough, +What he must speak, and when, and how? + +Must he be told his freedom stands +On Slavery's dark foundations strong; +On breaking hearts and fettered hands, +On robbery, and crime, and wrong? +That all his fathers taught is vain,-- +That Freedom's emblem is the chain? + +Its life, its soul, from slavery drawn! +False, foul, profane! Go, teach as well +Of holy Truth from Falsehood born! +Of Heaven refreshed by airs from Hell! +Of Virtue in the arms of Vice! +Of Demons planting Paradise! + +Rail on, then, brethren of the South, +Ye shall not hear the truth the less; +No seal is on the Yankee's mouth, +No fetter on the Yankee's press! +From our Green Mountains to the sea, +One voice shall thunder, We are free! + + + + +CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. + +In the report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, S.C., +on the 4th of the ninth month, 1835, published in the Courier of that +city, it is stated: "The clergy of all denominations attended in a body, +lending their sanction to the proceedings, and adding by their presence +to the impressive character of the scene!" + +JUST God! and these are they +Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! +Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay +On Israel's Ark of light! + +What! preach, and kidnap men? +Give thanks, and rob thy own afflicted poor? +Talk of thy glorious liberty, and then +Bolt hard the captive's door? + +What! servants of thy own +Merciful Son, who came to seek and save +The homeless and the outcast, fettering down +The tasked and plundered slave! + +Pilate and Herod, friends! +Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! +Just God and holy! is that church, which lends +Strength to the spoiler, thine? + +Paid hypocrites, who turn +Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book +Of those high words of truth which search and burn +In warning and rebuke; + +Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! +And, in your tasselled pulpits, thank the Lord +That, from the toiling bondman's utter need, +Ye pile your own full board. + +How long, O Lord! how long +Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, +And in Thy name, for robbery and wrong +At Thy own altars pray? + +Is not Thy hand stretched forth +Visibly in the heavens, to awe and smite? +Shall not the living God of all the earth, +And heaven above, do right? + +Woe, then, to all who grind +Their brethren of a common Father down! +To all who plunder from the immortal mind +Its bright and glorious crown! + +Woe to the priesthood! woe +To those whose hire is with the price of blood; +Perverting, darkening, changing, as they go, +The searching truths of God! + +Their glory and their might +Shall perish; and their very names shall be +Vile before all the people, in the light +Of a world's liberty. + +Oh, speed the moment on +When Wrong shall cease, and Liberty and Love +And Truth and Right throughout the earth be known +As in their home above. +1836. + + + + +A SUMMONS + +Written on the adoption of Pinckney's Resolutions in the House of +Representatives, and the passage of Calhoun's "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. Mr. Pinckney's +resolutions were in brief that Congress had no authority to interfere in +any way with slavery in the States; that it ought not to interfere with +it in the District of Columbia, and that all resolutions to that end +should be laid on the table without printing. Mr. Calhoun's bill made it +a penal offence for post-masters in any State, District, or Territory +"knowingly to deliver, to any person whatever, any pamphlet, newspaper, +handbill, or other printed paper or pictorial representation, touching +the subject of slavery, where, by the laws of the said State, District, +or Territory, their circulation was prohibited." + +MEN 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, +Here the false jurist human rights deny, +And in the church, their proud and skilled abettors +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 England stand erect no longer, +But stoop in chains upon her downward way, +Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger +Day after day? + +Oh 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 +Gnaws with his surges; from the fisher's skiff, +With white sail swaying to the billows' motion +Round rock and cliff; + +From the free fireside of her untought 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. + +Oh, let that voice go forth! The bondman sighing +By Santee's wave, in Mississippi's cane, +Shall feel the hope, within his bosom dying, +Revive again. + +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. + +Oh for your ancient freedom, pure and holy, +For the deliverance of a groaning earth, +For the wronged captive, bleeding, crushed, and lowly, +Let it go forth! + +Sons of the best of fathers! will ye falter +With all they left ye perilled and at stake? +Ho! once again on Freedom's holy altar +The fire awake. + +Prayer-strenthened for the trial, come together, +Put on the harness for the moral fight, +And, with the blessing of your Heavenly Father, +Maintain the right +1836. + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS SHIPLEY. + +Thomas Shipley of Philadelphia was a lifelong Christian philanthropist, +and advocate of emancipation. At his funeral thousands of colored people +came to take their last look at their friend and protector. He died +September 17, 1836. + +GONE to thy Heavenly Father's rest! +The flowers of Eden round thee blowing, +And on thine ear the murmurs blest +Of Siloa's waters softly flowing! + +Beneath that Tree of Life which gives +To all the earth its healing leaves +In the white robe of angels clad, +And wandering by that sacred river, +Whose streams of holiness make glad +The city of our God forever! + +Gentlest of spirits! not for thee +Our tears are shed, our sighs are given; +Why mourn to know thou art a free +Partaker of the joys of heaven? +Finished thy work, and kept thy faith +In Christian firmness unto death; +And beautiful as sky and earth, +When autumn's sun is downward going, +The blessed memory of thy worth +Around thy place of slumber glowing! + +But woe for us! who linger still +With feebler strength and hearts less lowly, +And minds less steadfast to the will +Of Him whose every work is holy. +For not like thine, is crucified +The spirit of our human pride +And at the bondman's tale of woe, +And for the outcast and forsaken, +Not warm like thine, but cold and slow, +Our weaker sympathies awaken. + +Darkly upon our struggling way +The storm of human hate is sweeping; +Hunted and branded, and a prey, +Our watch amidst the darkness keeping, +Oh, for that hidden strength which can +Nerve unto death the inner man +Oh, for thy spirit, tried and true, +And constant in the hour of trial, +Prepared to suffer, or to do, +In meekness and in self-denial. + +Oh, for that spirit, meek and mild, +Derided, spurned, yet uncomplaining; +By man deserted and reviled, +Yet faithful to its trust remaining. +Still prompt and resolute to save +From scourge and chain the hunted slave; +Unwavering in the Truth's defence, +Even where the fires of Hate were burning, +The unquailing eye of innocence +Alone upon the oppressor turning! + +O loved of thousands! to thy grave, +Sorrowing of heart, thy brethren bore thee. +The poor man and the rescued slave +Wept as the broken earth closed o'er thee; +And grateful tears, like summer rain, +Quickened its dying grass again! +And there, as to some pilgrim-shrine, +Shall cone the outcast and the lowly, +Of gentle deeds and words of thine +Recalling memories sweet and holy! + +Oh, for the death the righteous die! +An end, like autumn's day declining, +On human hearts, as on the sky, +With holier, tenderer beauty shining; +As to the parting soul were given +The radiance of an opening heaven! +As if that pure and blessed light, +From off the Eternal altar flowing, +Were bathing, in its upward flight, +The spirit to its worship going! +1836. + + + + +THE MORAL WARFARE. + +WHEN Freedom, on her natal day, +Within her war-rocked cradle lay, +An iron race around her stood, +Baptized her infant brow in blood; +And, through the storm which round her swept, +Their constant ward and watching kept. + +Then, where our quiet herds repose, +The roar of baleful battle rose, +And brethren of a common tongue +To mortal strife as tigers sprung, +And every gift on Freedom's shrine +Was man for beast, and blood for wine! + +Our fathers to their graves have gone; +Their strife is past, their triumph won; +But sterner trials wait the race +Which rises in their honored place; +A moral warfare with the crime +And folly of an evil time. + +So let it be. In God's own might +We gird us for the coming fight, +And, strong in Him whose cause is ours +In conflict with unholy powers, +We grasp the weapons He has given,-- +The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven. +1836. + + + + +RITNER. + +Written on reading the Message of Governor Ritner, of Pennsylvania, +1836. The fact redounds to the credit and serves to perpetuate the +memory of the independent farmer and high-souled statesman, that he +alone of all the Governors of the Union in 1836 met the insulting +demands and menaces of the South in a manner becoming a freeman and +hater of Slavery, in his message to the Legislature of Pennsylvania. + +THANK God for the token! one lip is still free, +One spirit untrammelled, unbending one knee! +Like the oak of the mountain, deep-rooted and firm, +Erect, when the multitude bends to the storm; +When traitors to Freedom, and Honor, and God, +Are bowed at an Idol polluted with blood; +When the recreant North has forgotten her trust, +And the lip of her honor is low in the dust,-- +Thank God, that one arm from the shackle has broken! +Thank God, that one man as a freeman has spoken! + +O'er thy crags, Alleghany, a blast has been blown! +Down thy tide, Susquehanna, the murmur has gone! +To the land of the South, of the charter and chain, +Of Liberty sweetened with Slavery's pain; +Where the cant of Democracy dwells on the lips +Of the forgers of fetters, and wielders of whips! +Where "chivalric" honor means really no more +Than scourging of women, and robbing the poor! +Where the Moloch of Slavery sitteth on high, +And the words which he utters, are--Worship, or die! + +Right onward, oh, speed it! Wherever the blood +Of the wronged and the guiltless is crying to God; +Wherever a slave in his fetters is pining; +Wherever the lash of the driver is twining; +Wherever from kindred, torn rudely apart, +Comes the sorrowful wail of the broken of heart; +Wherever the shackles of tyranny bind, +In silence and darkness, the God-given mind; +There, God speed it onward! its truth will be felt, +The bonds shall be loosened, the iron shall melt. + +And oh, will the land where the free soul of Penn +Still lingers and breathes over mountain and glen; +Will the land where a Benezet's spirit went forth +To the peeled and the meted, and outcast of Earth; +Where the words of the Charter of Liberty first +From the soul of the sage and the patriot burst; +Where first for the wronged and the weak of their kind, +The Christian and statesman their efforts combined; +Will that land of the free and the good wear a chain? +Will the call to the rescue of Freedom be vain? + +No, Ritner! her "Friends" at thy warning shall stand +Erect for the truth, like their ancestral band; +Forgetting the feuds and the strife of past time, +Counting coldness injustice, and silence a crime; +Turning back front the cavil of creeds, to unite +Once again for the poor in defence of the Right; +Breasting calmly, but firmly, the full tide of Wrong, +Overwhelmed, but not borne on its surges along; +Unappalled by the danger, the shame, and the pain, +And counting each trial for Truth as their gain! + +And that bold-hearted yeomanry, honest and true, +Who, haters of fraud, give to labor its due; +Whose fathers, of old, sang in concert with thine, +On the banks of Swetara, the songs of the Rhine,-- +The German-born pilgrims, who first dared to brave +The scorn of the proud in the cause of the slave; +Will the sons of such men yield the lords of the South +One brow for the brand, for the padlock one mouth? +They cater to tyrants? They rivet the chain, +Which their fathers smote off, on the negro again? + +No, never! one voice, like the sound in the cloud, +When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud, +Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed +From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West, +On the South-going breezes shall deepen and grow +Till the land it sweeps over shall tremble below! +The voice of a people, uprisen, awake, +Pennsylvania's watchword, with Freedom at stake, +Thrilling up from each valley, flung down from each height, +"Our Country and Liberty! God for the Right!" + + + + +THE PASTORAL LETTER + +The General Association of Congregational ministers in Massachusetts met +at Brookfield, June 27, 1837, and issued a Pastoral Letter to the +churches under its care. The immediate occasion of it was the profound +sensation produced by the recent public lecture in Massachusetts by +Angelina and Sarah Grimke, two noble women from South Carolina, who bore +their testimony against slavery. The Letter demanded that "the perplexed +and agitating subjects which are now common amongst us... should not be +forced upon any church as matters for debate, at the hazard of +alienation and division," and called attention to the dangers now +seeming "to threaten the female character with widespread and permanent +injury." + +So, this is all,--the utmost reach +Of priestly power the mind to fetter! +When laymen think, when women preach, +A war of words, a "Pastoral Letter!" +Now, shame upon ye, parish Popes! +Was it thus with those, your predecessors, +Who sealed with racks, and fire, and ropes +Their loving-kindness to transgressors? + +A "Pastoral Letter," grave and dull; +Alas! in hoof and horns and features, +How different is your Brookfield bull +From him who bellows from St. Peter's +Your pastoral rights and powers from harm, +Think ye, can words alone preserve them? +Your wiser fathers taught the arm +And sword of temporal power to serve them. + +Oh, glorious days, when Church and State +Were wedded by your spiritual fathers! +And on submissive shoulders sat +Your Wilsons and your Cotton Mathers. +No vile "itinerant" then could mar +The beauty of your tranquil Zion, +But at his peril of the scar +Of hangman's whip and branding-iron. + +Then, wholesome laws relieved the Church +Of heretic and mischief-maker, +And priest and bailiff joined in search, +By turns, of Papist, witch, and Quaker +The stocks were at each church's door, +The gallows stood on Boston Common, +A Papist's ears the pillory bore,-- +The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman! + +Your fathers dealt not as ye deal +With "non-professing" frantic teachers; +They bored the tongue with red-hot steel, +And flayed the backs of "female preachers." +Old Hampton, had her fields a tongue, +And Salem's streets could tell their story, +Of fainting woman dragged along, +Gashed by the whip accursed and gory! + +And will ye ask me, why this taunt +Of memories sacred from the scorner? +And why with reckless hand I plant +A nettle on the graves ye honor? +Not to reproach New England's dead +This record from the past I summon, +Of manhood to the scaffold led, +And suffering and heroic woman. + +No, for yourselves alone, I turn +The pages of intolerance over, +That, in their spirit, dark and stern, +Ye haply may your own discover! +For, if ye claim the "pastoral right" +To silence Freedom's voice of warning, +And from your precincts shut the light +Of Freedom's day around ye dawning; + +If when an earthquake voice of power +And signs in earth and heaven are showing +That forth, in its appointed hour, +The Spirit of the Lord is going +And, with that Spirit, Freedom's light +On kindred, tongue, and people breaking, +Whose slumbering millions, at the sight, +In glory and in strength are waking! + +When for the sighing of the poor, +And for the needy, God bath risen, +And chains are breaking, and a door +Is opening for the souls in prison! +If then ye would, with puny hands, +Arrest the very work of Heaven, +And bind anew the evil bands +Which God's right arm of power hath riven; + +What marvel that, in many a mind, +Those darker deeds of bigot madness +Are closely with your own combined, +Yet "less in anger than in sadness"? +What marvel, if the people learn +To claim the right of free opinion? +What marvel, if at times they spurn +The ancient yoke of your dominion? + +A glorious remnant linger yet, +Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains, +The coming of whose welcome feet +Is beautiful upon our mountains! +Men, who the gospel tidings bring +Of Liberty and Love forever, +Whose joy is an abiding spring, +Whose peace is as a gentle river! + +But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale +Of Carolina's high-souled daughters, +Which echoes here the mournful wail +Of sorrow from Edisto's waters, +Close while ye may the public ear, +With malice vex, with slander wound them, +The pure and good shall throng to hear, +And tried and manly hearts surround them. + +Oh, ever may the power which led +Their way to such a fiery trial, +And strengthened womanhood to tread +The wine-press of such self-denial, +Be round them in an evil land, +With wisdom and with strength from Heaven, +With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand, +And Deborah's song, for triumph given! + +And what are ye who strive with God +Against the ark of His salvation, +Moved by the breath of prayer abroad, +With blessings for a dying nation? +What, but the stubble and the hay +To perish, even as flax consuming, +With all that bars His glorious way, +Before the brightness of His coming? + +And thou, sad Angel, who so long +Hast waited for the glorious token, +That Earth from all her bonds of wrong +To liberty and light has broken,-- + +Angel of Freedom! soon to thee +The sounding trumpet shall be given, +And over Earth's full jubilee +Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven! +1837. + + + + +HYMN +As children of Thy gracious care, +We veil the eye, we bend the knee, +With broken words of praise and prayer, +Father and God, we come to Thee. + +For Thou hast heard, O God of Right, +The sighing of the island slave; +And stretched for him the arm of might, +Not shortened that it could not save. +The laborer sits beneath his vine, +The shackled soul and hand are free; +Thanksgiving! for the work is Thine! +Praise! for the blessing is of Thee! + +And oh, we feel Thy presence here, +Thy awful arm in judgment bare! +Thine eye bath seen the bondman's tear; +Thine ear hath heard the bondman's prayer. +Praise! for the pride of man is low, +The counsels of the wise are naught, +The fountains of repentance flow; +What hath our God in mercy wrought? + + +HYMN + +Written for the celebration of the third anniversary of British +emancipation at the Broadway Tabernacle, New York, first of August, +1837. + +O HOLY FATHER! just and true +Are all Thy works and words and ways, +And unto Thee alone are due +Thanksgiving and eternal praise! + +As children of Thy gracious care, +We veil the eye, we bend the knee, +With broken words of praise and prayer, +Father and God, we come to Thee. + +For Thou hast heard, O God of Right, +The sighing of the island slave; +And stretched for him the arm of might, +Not shortened that it could not save. +The laborer sits beneath his vine, +The shackled soul and hand are free; +Thanksgiving! for the work is Thine! +Praise! for the blessing is of Thee! + +And oh, we feel Thy presence here, +Thy awful arm in judgment bare! +Thine eye hath seen the bondman's tear; +Thine ear hath heard the bondman's prayer. +Praise! for the pride of man is low, +The counsels of the wise are naught, +The fountains of repentance flow; +What hath our God in mercy wrought? + +Speed on Thy work, Lord God of Hosts +And when the bondman's chain is riven, +And swells from all our guilty coasts +The anthem of the free to Heaven, +Oh, not to those whom Thou hast led, +As with Thy cloud and fire before, +But unto Thee, in fear and dread, +Be praise and glory evermore. + + + + +THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO +HER DAUGHTERS SOLD INTO SOUTHERN BONDAGE. + +GONE, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone. +Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, +Where the noisome insect stings, +Where the fever demon strews +Poison with the falling dews, +Where the sickly sunbeams glare +Through the hot and misty air; +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone. +There no mother's eye is near them, +There no mother's ear can hear them; +Never, when the torturing lash +Seams their back with many a gash, +Shall a mother's kindness bless them, +Or a mother's arms caress them. +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone. +Oh, when weary, sad, and slow, +From the fields at night they go, +Faint with toil, and racked with pain, +To their cheerless homes again, +There no brother's voice shall greet them; +There no father's welcome meet them. +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone. +From the tree whose shadow lay +On their childhood's place of play; +From the cool spring where they drank; +Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank; +From the solemn house of prayer, +And the holy counsels there; +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone; +Toiling through the weary day, +And at night the spoiler's prey. +Oh, that they had earlier died, +Sleeping calmly, side by side, +Where the tyrant's power is o'er, +And the fetter galls no more +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! + +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone. +By the holy love He beareth; +By the bruised reed He spareth; +Oh, may He, to whom alone +All their cruel wrongs are known, +Still their hope and refuge prove, +With a more than mother's love. +Gone, gone,--sold and gone, +To the rice-swamp dank and lone, +From Virginia's hills and waters; +Woe is me, my stolen daughters! +1838. + + + + +PENNSYLVANIA HALL. + +Read at the dedication of Pennsylvania Hall, Philadelphia, May 15, 1838. +The building was erected by an association of gentlemen, irrespective of +sect or party, "that the citizens of Philadelphia should possess a room +wherein the principles of Liberty, and Equality of Civil Rights, could +be freely discussed, and the evils of slavery fearlessly portrayed." On +the evening of the 17th it was burned by a mob, destroying the office of +the Pennsylvania Freeman, of which I was editor, and with it my books +and papers. + + +NOT with the splendors of the days of old, +The spoil of nations, and barbaric gold; +No weapons wrested from the fields of blood, +Where dark and stern the unyielding Roman stood, +And the proud eagles of his cohorts saw +A world, war-wasted, crouching to his law; + +Nor blazoned car, nor banners floating gay, +Like those which swept along the Appian Way, +When, to the welcome of imperial Rome, +The victor warrior came in triumph home, +And trumpet peal, and shoutings wild and high, +Stirred the blue quiet of the Italian sky; +But calm and grateful, prayerful and sincere, +As Christian freemen only, gathering here, +We dedicate our fair and lofty Hall, +Pillar and arch, entablature and wall, +As Virtue's shrine, as Liberty's abode, +Sacred to Freedom, and to Freedom's God +Far statelier Halls, 'neath brighter skies than these, +Stood darkly mirrored in the AEgean seas, +Pillar and shrine, and life-like statues seen, +Graceful and pure, the marble shafts between; +Where glorious Athens from her rocky hill +Saw Art and Beauty subject to her will; +And the chaste temple, and the classic grove, +The hall of sages, and the bowers of love, +Arch, fane, and column, graced the shores, and gave +Their shadows to the blue Saronic wave; +And statelier rose, on Tiber's winding side, +The Pantheon's dome, the Coliseum's pride, +The Capitol, whose arches backward flung +The deep, clear cadence of the Roman tongue, +Whence stern decrees, like words of fate, went forth +To the awed nations of a conquered earth, +Where the proud Caesars in their glory came, +And Brutus lightened from his lips of flame! +Yet in the porches of Athena's halls, +And in the shadow of her stately walls, +Lurked the sad bondman, and his tears of woe +Wet the cold marble with unheeded flow; +And fetters clanked beneath the silver dome +Of the proud Pantheon of imperious Rome. +Oh, not for hint, the chained and stricken slave, +By Tiber's shore, or blue AEgina's wave, +In the thronged forum, or the sages' seat, +The bold lip pleaded, and the warm heart beat; +No soul of sorrow melted at his pain, +No tear of pity rusted on his chain! + +But this fair Hall to Truth and Freedom given, +Pledged to the Right before all Earth and Heaven, +A free arena for the strife of mind, +To caste, or sect, or color unconfined, +Shall thrill with echoes such as ne'er of old +From Roman hall or Grecian temple rolled; +Thoughts shall find utterance such as never yet +The Propylea or the Forum met. +Beneath its roof no gladiator's strife +Shall win applauses with the waste of life; +No lordly lictor urge the barbarous game, +No wanton Lais glory in her shame. +But here the tear of sympathy shall flow, +As the ear listens to the tale of woe; +Here in stern judgment of the oppressor's wrong +Shall strong rebukings thrill on Freedom's tongue, +No partial justice hold th' unequal scale, +No pride of caste a brother's rights assail, +No tyrant's mandates echo from this wall, +Holy to Freedom and the Rights of All! +But a fair field, where mind may close with mind, +Free as the sunshine and the chainless wind; +Where the high trust is fixed on Truth alone, +And bonds and fetters from the soul are thrown; +Where wealth, and rank, and worldly pomp, and might, +Yield to the presence of the True and Right. + +And fitting is it that this Hall should stand +Where Pennsylvania's Founder led his band, +From thy blue waters, Delaware!--to press +The virgin verdure of the wilderness. +Here, where all Europe with amazement saw +The soul's high freedom trammelled by no law; +Here, where the fierce and warlike forest-men +Gathered, in peace, around the home of Penn, +Awed by the weapons Love alone had given +Drawn from the holy armory of Heaven; +Where Nature's voice against the bondman's wrong +First found an earnest and indignant tongue; +Where Lay's bold message to the proud was borne; +And Keith's rebuke, and Franklin's manly scorn! +Fitting it is that here, where Freedom first +From her fair feet shook off the Old World's dust, +Spread her white pinions to our Western blast, +And her free tresses to our sunshine cast, +One Hall should rise redeemed from Slavery's ban, +One Temple sacred to the Rights of Man! + +Oh! if the spirits of the parted come, +Visiting angels, to their olden home +If the dead fathers of the land look forth +From their fair dwellings, to the things of earth, +Is it a dream, that with their eyes of love, +They gaze now on us from the bowers above? +Lay's ardent soul, and Benezet the mild, +Steadfast in faith, yet gentle as a child, +Meek-hearted Woolman, and that brother-band, +The sorrowing exiles from their "Father land," +Leaving their homes in Krieshiem's bowers of vine, +And the blue beauty of their glorious Rhine, +To seek amidst our solemn depths of wood +Freedom from man, and holy peace with God; +Who first of all their testimonial gave +Against the oppressor, for the outcast slave, +Is it a dream that such as these look down, +And with their blessing our rejoicings crown? +Let us rejoice, that while the pulpit's door +Is barred against the pleaders for the poor; +While the Church, wrangling upon points of faith, +Forgets her bondmen suffering unto death; +While crafty Traffic and the lust of Gain +Unite to forge Oppression's triple chain, +One door is open, and one Temple free, +As a resting-place for hunted Liberty! +Where men may speak, unshackled and unawed, +High words of Truth, for Freedom and for God. +And when that truth its perfect work hath done, +And rich with blessings o'er our land hath gone; +When not a slave beneath his yoke shall pine, +From broad Potomac to the far Sabine +When unto angel lips at last is given +The silver trump of Jubilee in Heaven; +And from Virginia's plains, Kentucky's shades, +And through the dim Floridian everglades, +Rises, to meet that angel-trumpet's sound, +The voice of millions from their chains unbound; +Then, though this Hall be crumbling in decay, +Its strong walls blending with the common clay, +Yet, round the ruins of its strength shall stand +The best and noblest of a ransomed land-- +Pilgrims, like these who throng around the shrine +Of Mecca, or of holy Palestine! +A prouder glory shall that ruin own +Than that which lingers round the Parthenon. +Here shall the child of after years be taught +The works of Freedom which his fathers wrought; +Told of the trials of the present hour, +Our weary strife with prejudice and power; +How the high errand quickened woman's soul, +And touched her lip as with a living coal; +How Freedom's martyrs kept their lofty faith +True and unwavering, unto bonds and death; +The pencil's art shall sketch the ruined Hall, +The Muses' garland crown its aged wall, +And History's pen for after times record +Its consecration unto Freedom's God! + + + + +THE NEW YEAR. + +Addressed to the Patrons of the Pennsylvania Freeman. + +THE wave is breaking on the shore, +The echo fading from the chime +Again the shadow moveth o'er +The dial-plate of time! + +O seer-seen Angel! waiting now +With weary feet on sea and shore, +Impatient for the last dread vow +That time shall be no more! + +Once more across thy sleepless eye +The semblance of a smile has passed: +The year departing leaves more nigh +Time's fearfullest and last. + +Oh, in that dying year hath been +The sum of all since time began; +The birth and death, the joy and pain, +Of Nature and of Man. + +Spring, with her change of sun and shower, +And streams released from Winter's chain, +And bursting bud, and opening flower, +And greenly growing grain; + +And Summer's shade, and sunshine warm, +And rainbows o'er her hill-tops bowed, +And voices in her rising storm; +God speaking from His cloud! + +And Autumn's fruits and clustering sheaves, +And soft, warm days of golden light, +The glory of her forest leaves, +And harvest-moon at night; + +And Winter with her leafless grove, +And prisoned stream, and drifting snow, +The brilliance of her heaven above +And of her earth below; + +And man, in whom an angel's mind +With earth's low instincts finds abode, +The highest of the links which bind +Brute nature to her God; + +His infant eye bath seen the light, +His childhood's merriest laughter rung, +And active sports to manlier might +The nerves of boyhood strung! + +And quiet love, and passion's fires, +Have soothed or burned in manhood's breast, +And lofty aims and low desires +By turns disturbed his rest. + +The wailing of the newly-born +Has mingled with the funeral knell; +And o'er the dying's ear has gone +The merry marriage-bell. + +And Wealth has filled his halls with mirth, +While Want, in many a humble shed, +Toiled, shivering by her cheerless hearth, +The live-long night for bread. + +And worse than all, the human slave, +The sport of lust, and pride, and scorn! +Plucked off the crown his Maker gave, +His regal manhood gone! + +Oh, still, my country! o'er thy plains, +Blackened with slavery's blight and ban, +That human chattel drags his chains, +An uncreated man! + +And still, where'er to sun and breeze, +My country, is thy flag unrolled, +With scorn, the gazing stranger sees +A stain on every fold. + +Oh, tear the gorgeous emblem down! +It gathers scorn from every eye, +And despots smile and good men frown +Whene'er it passes by. + +Shame! shame! its starry splendors glow +Above the slaver's loathsome jail; +Its folds are ruffling even now +His crimson flag of sale. + +Still round our country's proudest hall +The trade in human flesh is driven, +And at each careless hammer-fall +A human heart is riven. + +And this, too, sanctioned by the men +Vested with power to shield the right, +And throw each vile and robber den +Wide open to the light. + +Yet, shame upon them! there they sit, +Men of the North, subdued and still; +Meek, pliant poltroons, only fit +To work a master's will. + +Sold, bargained off for Southern votes, +A passive herd of Northern mules, +Just braying through their purchased throats +Whate'er their owner rules. + +And he, [2] the basest of the base, +The vilest of the vile, whose name, +Embalmed in infinite disgrace, +Is deathless in its shame! + +A tool, to bolt the people's door +Against the people clamoring there, +An ass, to trample on their floor +A people's right of prayer! + +Nailed to his self-made gibbet fast, +Self-pilloried to the public view, +A mark for every passing blast +Of scorn to whistle through; + +There let him hang, and hear the boast +Of Southrons o'er their pliant tool,-- +A new Stylites on his post, +"Sacred to ridicule!" + +Look we at home! our noble hall, +To Freedom's holy purpose given, +Now rears its black and ruined wall, +Beneath the wintry heaven, + +Telling the story of its doom, +The fiendish mob, the prostrate law, +The fiery jet through midnight's gloom, +Our gazing thousands saw. + +Look to our State! the poor man's right +Torn from him: and the sons of those +Whose blood in Freedom's sternest fight +Sprinkled the Jersey snows, + +Outlawed within the land of Penn, +That Slavery's guilty fears might cease, +And those whom God created men +Toil on as brutes in peace. + +Yet o'er the blackness of the storm +A bow of promise bends on high, +And gleams of sunshine, soft and warm, +Break through our clouded sky. + +East, West, and North, the shout is heard, +Of freemen rising for the right +Each valley hath its rallying word, +Each hill its signal light. + +O'er Massachusetts' rocks of gray, +The strengthening light of freedom shines, +Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay, +And Vermont's snow-hung pines! + +From Hudson's frowning palisades +To Alleghany's laurelled crest, +O'er lakes and prairies, streams and glades, +It shines upon the West. + +Speed on the light to those who dwell +In Slavery's land of woe and sin, +And through the blackness of that bell, +Let Heaven's own light break in. + +So shall the Southern conscience quake +Before that light poured full and strong, +So shall the Southern heart awake +To all the bondman's wrong. + +And from that rich and sunny land +The song of grateful millions rise, +Like that of Israel's ransomed band +Beneath Arabia's skies: + +And all who now are bound beneath +Our banner's shade, our eagle's wing, +From Slavery's night of moral death +To light and life shall spring. + +Broken the bondman's chain, and gone +The master's guilt, and hate, and fear, +And unto both alike shall dawn +A New and Happy Year. +1839. + + + + +THE RELIC. +Written on receiving a cane wrought from a fragment of the wood-work +of Pennsylvania Hall which the fire had spared. + +TOKEN of friendship true and tried, +From one whose fiery heart of youth +With mine has beaten, side by side, +For Liberty and Truth; +With honest pride the gift I take, +And prize it for the giver's sake. + +But not alone because it tells +Of generous hand and heart sincere; +Around that gift of friendship dwells +A memory doubly dear; +Earth's noblest aim, man's holiest thought, +With that memorial frail in wrought! + +Pure thoughts and sweet like flowers unfold, +And precious memories round it cling, +Even as the Prophet's rod of old +In beauty blossoming: +And buds of feeling, pure and good, +Spring from its cold unconscious wood. + +Relic of Freedom's shrine! a brand +Plucked from its burning! let it be +Dear as a jewel from the hand +Of a lost friend to me! +Flower of a perished garland left, +Of life and beauty unbereft! + +Oh, if the young enthusiast bears, +O'er weary waste and sea, the stone +Which crumbled from the Forum's stairs, +Or round the Parthenon; +Or olive-bough from some wild tree +Hung over old Thermopylae: + +If leaflets from some hero's tomb, +Or moss-wreath torn from ruins hoary; +Or faded flowers whose sisters bloom +On fields renowned in story; +Or fragment from the Alhambra's crest, +Or the gray rock by Druids blessed; + +Sad Erin's shamrock greenly growing +Where Freedom led her stalwart kern, +Or Scotia's "rough bur thistle" blowing +On Bruce's Bannockburn; +Or Runnymede's wild English rose, +Or lichen plucked from Sempach's snows! + +If it be true that things like these +To heart and eye bright visions bring, +Shall not far holier memories +To this memorial cling +Which needs no mellowing mist of time +To hide the crimson stains of crime! + +Wreck of a temple, unprofaned; +Of courts where Peace with Freedom trod, +Lifting on high, with hands unstained, +Thanksgiving unto God; +Where Mercy's voice of love was pleading +For human hearts in bondage bleeding; + +Where, midst the sound of rushing feet +And curses on the night-air flung, +That pleading voice rose calm and sweet +From woman's earnest tongue; +And Riot turned his scowling glance, +Awed, from her tranquil countenance! + +That temple now in ruin lies! +The fire-stain on its shattered wall, +And open to the changing skies +Its black and roofless hall, +It stands before a nation's sight, +A gravestone over buried Right! + +But from that ruin, as of old, +The fire-scorched stones themselves are crying, +And from their ashes white and cold +Its timbers are replying! +A voice which slavery cannot kill +Speaks from the crumbling arches still! + +And even this relic from thy shrine, +O holy Freedom! Hath to me +A potent power, a voice and sign +To testify of thee; +And, grasping it, methinks I feel +A deeper faith, a stronger zeal. + +And not unlike that mystic rod, +Of old stretched o'er the Egyptian wave, +Which opened, in the strength of God, +A pathway for the slave, +It yet may point the bondman's way, +And turn the spoiler from his prey. +1839. + + + + +THE WORLD'S CONVENTION + +OF THE FRIENDS OF EMANCIPATION, +HELD IN LONDON IN 1840. + +Joseph Sturge, the founder of the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery +Society, proposed the calling of a world's anti-slavery convention, and +the proposal was promptly seconded by the American Anti-Slavery Society. +The call was addressed to "friends of the slave of every nation and of +every clime." + +YES, let them gather! Summon forth +The pledged philanthropy of Earth. +From every land, whose hills have heard +The bugle blast of Freedom waking; +Or shrieking of her symbol-bird +From out his cloudy eyrie breaking +Where Justice hath one worshipper, +Or truth one altar built to her; + +Where'er a human eye is weeping +O'er wrongs which Earth's sad children know; +Where'er a single heart is keeping +Its prayerful watch with human woe +Thence let them come, and greet each other, +And know in each a friend and brother! + +Yes, let them come! from each green vale +Where England's old baronial halls +Still bear upon their storied walls +The grim crusader's rusted mail, +Battered by Paynim spear and brand +On Malta's rock or Syria's sand! +And mouldering pennon-staves once set +Within the soil of Palestine, +By Jordan and Gennesaret; +Or, borne with England's battle line, +O'er Acre's shattered turrets stooping, +Or, midst the camp their banners drooping, +With dews from hallowed Hermon wet, +A holier summons now is given +Than that gray hermit's voice of old, +Which unto all the winds of heaven +The banners of the Cross unrolled! +Not for the long-deserted shrine; +Not for the dull unconscious sod, +Which tells not by one lingering sign +That there the hope of Israel trod; +But for that truth, for which alone +In pilgrim eyes are sanctified +The garden moss, the mountain stone, +Whereon His holy sandals pressed,-- +The fountain which His lip hath blessed,-- + +Whate'er hath touched His garment's hem +At Bethany or Bethlehem, +Or Jordan's river-side. +For Freedom in the name of Him +Who came to raise Earth's drooping poor, +To break the chain from every limb, +The bolt from every prison door! +For these, o'er all the earth hath passed +An ever-deepening trumpet blast, +As if an angel's breath had lent +Its vigor to the instrument. + +And Wales, from Snowden's mountain wall, +Shall startle at that thrilling call, +As if she heard her bards again; +And Erin's "harp on Tara's wall" +Give out its ancient strain, +Mirthful and sweet, yet sad withal,-- +The melody which Erin loves, +When o'er that harp, 'mid bursts of gladness +And slogan cries and lyke-wake sadness, +The hand of her O'Connell moves! +Scotland, from lake and tarn and rill, +And mountain hold, and heathery bill, +Shall catch and echo back the note, +As if she heard upon the air +Once more her Cameronian's prayer +And song of Freedom float. +And cheering echoes shall reply +From each remote dependency, +Where Britain's mighty sway is known, +In tropic sea or frozen zone; +Where'er her sunset flag is furling, +Or morning gun-fire's smoke is curling; +From Indian Bengal's groves of palm +And rosy fields and gales of balm, +Where Eastern pomp and power are rolled +Through regal Ava's gates of gold; +And from the lakes and ancient woods +And dim Canadian solitudes, +Whence, sternly from her rocky throne, +Queen of the North, Quebec looks down; +And from those bright and ransomed Isles +Where all unwonted Freedom smiles, +And the dark laborer still retains +The scar of slavery's broken chains! + +From the hoar Alps, which sentinel +The gateways of the land of Tell, +Where morning's keen and earliest glance +On Jura's rocky wall is thrown, +And from the olive bowers of France +And vine groves garlanding the Rhone,-- +"Friends of the Blacks," as true and tried +As those who stood by Oge's side, +And heard the Haytien's tale of wrong, +Shall gather at that summons strong; +Broglie, Passy, and he whose song +Breathed over Syria's holy sod, +And, in the paths which Jesus trod, +And murmured midst the hills which hem +Crownless and sad Jerusalem, +Hath echoes whereso'er the tone +Of Israel's prophet-lyre is known. + +Still let them come; from Quito's walls, +And from the Orinoco's tide, +From Lima's Inca-haunted halls, +From Santa Fe and Yucatan,-- +Men who by swart Guerrero's side +Proclaimed the deathless rights of man, +Broke every bond and fetter off, +And hailed in every sable serf +A free and brother Mexican! +Chiefs who across the Andes' chain +Have followed Freedom's flowing pennon, +And seen on Junin's fearful plain, +Glare o'er the broken ranks of Spain +The fire-burst of Bolivar's cannon! +And Hayti, from her mountain land, +Shall send the sons of those who hurled +Defiance from her blazing strand, +The war-gage from her Petion's hand, +Alone against a hostile world. + +Nor all unmindful, thou, the while, +Land of the dark and mystic Nile! +Thy Moslem mercy yet may shame +All tyrants of a Christian name, +When in the shade of Gizeh's pile, +Or, where, from Abyssinian hills +El Gerek's upper fountain fills, +Or where from Mountains of the Moon +El Abiad bears his watery boon, +Where'er thy lotus blossoms swim +Within their ancient hallowed waters; +Where'er is beard the Coptic hymn, +Or song of Nubia's sable daughters; +The curse of slavery and the crime, +Thy bequest from remotest time, +At thy dark Mehemet's decree +Forevermore shall pass from thee; +And chains forsake each captive's limb +Of all those tribes, whose hills around +Have echoed back the cymbal sound +And victor horn of Ibrahim. + +And thou whose glory and whose crime +To earth's remotest bound and clime, +In mingled tones of awe and scorn, +The echoes of a world have borne, +My country! glorious at thy birth, +A day-star flashing brightly forth, +The herald-sign of Freedom's dawn! +Oh, who could dream that saw thee then, +And watched thy rising from afar, +That vapors from oppression's fen +Would cloud the upward tending star? +Or, that earth's tyrant powers, which heard, +Awe-struck, the shout which hailed thy dawning, +Would rise so soon, prince, peer, and king, +To mock thee with their welcoming, +Like Hades when her thrones were stirred +To greet the down-cast Star of Morning! +"Aha! and art thou fallen thus? +Art thou become as one of us?" + +Land of my fathers! there will stand, +Amidst that world-assembled band, +Those owning thy maternal claim +Unweakened by thy, crime and shame; +The sad reprovers of thy wrong; +The children thou hast spurned so long. + +Still with affection's fondest yearning +To their unnatural mother turning. +No traitors they! but tried and leal, +Whose own is but thy general weal, +Still blending with the patriot's zeal +The Christian's love for human kind, +To caste and climate unconfined. + +A holy gathering! peaceful all +No threat of war, no savage call +For vengeance on an erring brother! +But in their stead the godlike plan +To teach the brotherhood of man +To love and reverence one another, +As sharers of a common blood, +The children of a common God +Yet, even at its lightest word, +Shall Slavery's darkest depths be stirred: +Spain, watching from her Moro's keep +Her slave-ships traversing the deep, +And Rio, in her strength and pride, +Lifting, along her mountain-side, +Her snowy battlements and towers, +Her lemon-groves and tropic bowers, +With bitter hate and sullen fear +Its freedom-giving voice shall hear; +And where my country's flag is flowing, +On breezes from Mount Vernon blowing, +Above the Nation's council halls, +Where Freedom's praise is loud and long, +While close beneath the outward walls +The driver plies his reeking thong; +The hammer of the man-thief falls, +O'er hypocritic cheek and brow +The crimson flush of shame shall glow +And all who for their native land +Are pledging life and heart and hand, +Worn watchers o'er her changing weal, +Who fog her tarnished honor feel, +Through cottage door and council-hall +Shall thunder an awakening call. +The pen along its page shall burn +With all intolerable scorn; +An eloquent rebuke shall go +On all the winds that Southward blow; +From priestly lips, now sealed and dumb, +Warning and dread appeal shall come, +Like those which Israel heard from him, +The Prophet of the Cherubim; +Or those which sad Esaias hurled +Against a sin-accursed world! +Its wizard leaves the Press shall fling +Unceasing from its iron wing, +With characters inscribed thereon, +As fearful in the despot's ball +As to the pomp of Babylon +The fire-sign on the palace wall! + +And, from her dark iniquities, +Methinks I see my country rise +Not challenging the nations round +To note her tardy justice done; +Her captives from their chains unbound; +Her prisons opening to the sun +But tearfully her arms extending +Over the poor and unoffending; +Her regal emblem now no longer + +A bird of prey, with talons reeking, +Above the dying captive shrieking, +But, spreading out her ample wing, +A broad, impartial covering, +The weaker sheltered by the stronger +Oh, then to Faith's anointed eyes +The promised token shall be given; +And on a nation's sacrifice, +Atoning for the sin of years, +And wet with penitential tears, +The fire shall fall from Heaven! +1839. + + + + +MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA. + +Written on reading an account of the proceedings of the citizens of +Norfolk, Va., in reference to George Latimer, the alleged fugitive +slave, who was seized in Boston without warrant at the request of James +B. Grey, of Norfolk, claiming to be his master. The case caused great +excitement North and South, and led to the presentation of a petition to +Congress, signed by more than fifty thousand citizens of Massachusetts, +calling for such laws and proposed amendments to the Constitution as +should relieve the Commonwealth from all further participation in the +crime of oppression. George Latimer himself was finally given free +papers for the sum of four hundred dollars. + +THE blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way, +Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay. +No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle's peal, +Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen's steel. + +No trains of deep-mouthed cannon along our highways go; +Around our! silent arsenals untrodden lies the snow; +And to the land-breeze of our ports, upon their errands far, +A thousand sails of commerce swell, but none are spread for war. + +We hear thy threats, Virginia! thy stormy words and high, +Swell harshly on the Southern winds which melt along our sky; +Yet, not one brown, hard hand foregoes its honest labor here, +No hewer of our mountain oaks suspends his axe in fear. + +Wild are the waves which lash the reefs along St. George's bank; +Cold on the shore of Labrador the fog lies white and dank; +Through storm, and wave, and blinding mist, stout +are the hearts which man +The fishing-smacks of Marblehead, the sea-boats of Cape Ann. + +The cold north light and wintry sun glare on their icy forms, +Bent grimly o'er their straining lines or wrestling with the storms; +Free as the winds they drive before, rough as the waves they roam, +They laugh to scorn the slaver's threat against their rocky home. + +What means the Old Dominion? Hath she forgot the day +When o'er her conquered valleys swept the Briton's steel array? +How side by side, with sons of hers, the Massachusetts men +Encountered Tarleton's charge of fire, and stout Cornwallis, then? + +Forgets she how the Bay State, in answer to the call +Of her old House of Burgesses, spoke out from Faneuil Hall? +When, echoing back her Henry's cry, came pulsing on each breath +Of Northern winds, the thrilling sounds of "Liberty or Death!" + +What asks the Old Dominion? If now her sons have proved +False to their fathers' memory, false to the faith they loved; +If she can scoff at Freedom, and its great charter spurn, +Must we of Massachusetts from truth and duty turn? + +We hunt your bondmen, flying from Slavery's hateful hell; +Our voices, at your bidding, take up the bloodhound's yell; +We gather, at your summons, above our fathers' graves, +From Freedom's holy altar-horns to tear your wretched slaves! + +Thank God! not yet so vilely can Massachusetts bow; +The spirit of her early time is with her even now; +Dream not because her Pilgrim blood moves slow and calm and cool, +She thus can stoop her chainless neck, a sister's slave and tool! + +All that a sister State should do, all that a free State may, +Heart, hand, and purse we proffer, as in our early day; +But that one dark loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone, +And reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown! + +Hold, while ye may, your struggling slaves, and burden God's free air +With woman's shriek beneath the lash, and manhood's wild despair; +Cling closer to the "cleaving curse" that writes upon your plains +The blasting of Almighty wrath against a land of chains. + +Still shame your gallant ancestry, the cavaliers of old, +By watching round the shambles where human flesh is sold; +Gloat o'er the new-born child, and count his market value, when +The maddened mother's cry of woe shall pierce the slaver's den! + +Lower than plummet soundeth, sink the Virginia name; +Plant, if ye will, your fathers' graves with rankest weeds of shame; +Be, if ye will, the scandal of God's fair universe; +We wash our hands forever of your sin and shame and curse. + +A voice from lips whereon the coal from Freedom's shrine hath been, +Thrilled, as but yesterday, the hearts of Berkshire's mountain men: +The echoes of that solemn voice are sadly lingering still +In all our sunny valleys, on every wind-swept hill. + +And when the prowling man-thief came hunting for his prey +Beneath the very shadow of Bunker's shaft of gray, +How, through the free lips of the son, the father's warning spoke; +How, from its bonds of trade and sect, the Pilgrim city broke! + +A hundred thousand right arms were lifted up on high, +A hundred thousand voices sent back their loud reply; +Through the thronged towns of Essex the startling summons rang, +And up from bench and loom and wheel her young mechanics sprang! + +The voice of free, broad Middlesex, of thousands as of one, +The shaft of Bunker calling to that of Lexington; +From Norfolk's ancient villages, from Plymouth's rocky bound +To where Nantucket feels the arms of ocean close her round; + +From rich and rural Worcester, where through the calm repose +Of cultured vales and fringing woods the gentle Nashua flows, +To where Wachuset's wintry blasts the mountain larches stir, +Swelled up to Heaven the thrilling cry of "God save Latimer!" + +And sandy Barnstable rose up, wet with the salt sea spray; +And Bristol sent her answering shout down Narragansett Bay +Along the broad Connecticut old Hampden felt the thrill, +And the cheer of Hampshire's woodmen swept down from Holyoke Hill. + +The voice of Massachusetts! Of her free sons and daughters, +Deep calling unto deep aloud, the sound of many waters! +Against the burden of that voice what tyrant power shall stand? +No fetters in the Bay State! No slave upon her land! + +Look to it well, Virginians! In calmness we have borne, +In answer to our faith and trust, your insult and your scorn; +You've spurned our kindest counsels; you've hunted for our lives; +And shaken round our hearths and homes your manacles and gyves! + +We wage no war, we lift no arm, we fling no torch within +The fire-clamps of the quaking mine beneath your soil of sin; +We leave ye with your bondmen, to wrestle, while ye can, +With the strong upward tendencies and godlike soul of man! + +But for us and for our children, the vow which we have given +For freedom and humanity is registered in heaven; +No slave-hunt in our borders,--no pirate on our strand! +No fetters in the Bay State,--no slave upon our land! +1843. + + + + +THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE. + +In a publication of L. F. Tasistro--Random Shots and Southern Breezes-- +is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the +auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as "A GOOD CHRISTIAN!" It +was not uncommon to see advertisements of slaves for sale, in which they +were described as pious or as members of the church. In one +advertisement a slave was noted as "a Baptist preacher." + +A CHRISTIAN! going, gone! +Who bids for God's own image? for his grace, +Which that poor victim of the market-place +Hath in her suffering won? + +My God! can such things be? +Hast Thou not said that whatsoe'er is done +Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one +Is even done to Thee? + +In that sad victim, then, +Child of Thy pitying love, I see Thee stand; +Once more the jest-word of a mocking band, +Bound, sold, and scourged again! + +A Christian up for sale! +Wet with her blood your whips, o'ertask her frame, +Make her life loathsome with your wrong and shame, +Her patience shall not fail! + +A heathen hand might deal +Back on your heads the gathered wrong of years: +But her low, broken prayer and nightly tears, +Ye neither heed nor feel. + +Con well thy lesson o'er, +Thou prudent teacher, tell the toiling slave +No dangerous tale of Him who came to save +The outcast and the poor. + +But wisely shut the ray +Of God's free Gospel from her simple heart, +And to her darkened mind alone impart +One stern command, Obey! [3] + +So shalt thou deftly raise +The market price of human flesh; and while +On thee, their pampered guest, the planters smile, +Thy church shall praise. + +Grave, reverend men shall tell +From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest, +While in that vile South Sodom first and best, +Thy poor disciples sell. + +Oh, shame! the Moslem thrall, +Who, with his master, to the Prophet kneels, +While turning to the sacred Kebla feels +His fetters break and fall. + +Cheers for the turbaned Bey +Of robber-peopled Tunis! he hath torn +The dark slave-dungeons open, and hath borne +Their inmates into day: + +But our poor slave in vain +Turns to the Christian shrine his aching eyes; +Its rites will only swell his market price, +And rivet on his chain. + +God of all right! how long +Shall priestly robbers at Thine altar stand, +Lifting in prayer to Thee, the bloody hand +And haughty brow of wrong? +1843 + + + + +THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN + +Oh, from the fields of cane, +From the low rice-swamp, from the trader's cell; +From the black slave-ship's foul and loathsome hell, +And coffle's weary chain; +Hoarse, horrible, and strong, +Rises to Heaven that agonizing cry, +Filling the arches of the hollow sky, +How long, O God, how long? + + + + +THE SENTENCE OF JOHN L. BROWN. + +John L. Brown, a young white man of South Carolina, was in 1844 +sentenced to death for aiding a young slave woman, whom he loved and had +married, to escape from slavery. In pronouncing the sentence Judge +O'Neale addressed to the prisoner these words of appalling blasphemy: + +You are to die! To die an ignominious death--the death on the gallows! +This announcement is, to you, I know, most appalling. Little did you +dream of it when you stepped into the bar with an air as if you thought +it was a fine frolic. But the consequences of crime are just such as you +are realizing. Punishment often comes when it is least expected. Let me +entreat you to take the present opportunity to commence the work of +reformation. Time will be furnished you to prepare for the great change +just before you. Of your past life I know nothing, except what your +trial furnished. That told me that the crime for which you are to suffer +was the consequence of a want of attention on your part to the duties of +life. The strange woman snared you. She flattered you with her word; +and you became her victim. The consequence was, that, led on by a desire +to serve her, you committed the offence of aid in a slave to run away +and depart from her master's service; and now, for it you are to die! +You are a young man, and I fear you have been dissolute; and if so, +these kindred vices have contributed a full measure to your ruin. +Reflect on your past life, and make the only useful devotion of the +remnant of your days in preparing for death. Remember now thy Creator in +the days of thy youth is the language of inspired wisdom. This comes +home appropriately to you in this trying moment. You are young; quite +too young to be where you are. If you had remembered your Creator in +your past days, you would not now be in a felon's place, to receive a +felon's judgment. Still, it is not too late to remember your Creator. He +calls early, and He calls late. He stretches out the arms of a Father's +love to you--to the vilest sinner--and says: "Come unto me and be +saved." You can perhaps read. If so, read the Scriptures; read them +without note, and without comment; and pray to God for His assistance; +and you will be able to say when you pass from prison to execution, as a +poor slave said under similar circumstances: "I am glad my Friday has +come." If you cannot read the Scriptures, the ministers of our holy +religion will be ready to aid you. They will read and explain to you +until you will be able to understand; and understanding, to call upon +the only One who can help you and save you--Jesus Christ, the Lamb of +God, who taketh away the sin of the world. To Him I commend you. And +through Him may you have that opening of the Day-Spring of mercy from +on high, which shall bless you here, and crown you as a saint in an +everlasting world, forever and ever. The sentence of the law is that you +be taken hence to the place from whence you came last; thence to the +jail of Fairfield District; and that there you be closely and securely +confined until Friday, the 26th day of April next; on which day, between +the hours of ten in the forenoon and two in the afternoon, you will be +taken to the place of public execution, and there be hanged by the neck +till your body be dead. And may God have mercy on your soul! + +No event in the history of the anti-slavery struggle so stirred the two +hemispheres as did this dreadful sentence. A cry of horror was heard +from Europe. In the British House of Lords, Brougham and Denman spoke of +it with mingled pathos and indignation. Thirteen hundred clergymen and +church officers in Great Britain addressed a memorial to the churches of +South Carolina against the atrocity. Indeed, so strong was the pressure +of the sentiment of abhorrence and disgust that South Carolina yielded +to it, and the sentence was commuted to scourging and banishment. + +Ho! thou who seekest late and long +A License from the Holy Book +For brutal lust and fiendish wrong, +Man of the Pulpit, look! +Lift up those cold and atheist eyes, +This ripe fruit of thy teaching see; +And tell us how to heaven will rise +The incense of this sacrifice-- +This blossom of the gallows tree! + +Search out for slavery's hour of need +Some fitting text of sacred writ; +Give heaven the credit of a deed +Which shames the nether pit. +Kneel, smooth blasphemer, unto Him +Whose truth is on thy lips a lie; +Ask that His bright winged cherubim +May bend around that scaffold grim +To guard and bless and sanctify. + +O champion of the people's cause +Suspend thy loud and vain rebuke +Of foreign wrong and Old World's laws, +Man of the Senate, look! +Was this the promise of the free, +The great hope of our early time, +That slavery's poison vine should be +Upborne by Freedom's prayer-nursed tree +O'erclustered with such fruits of crime? + +Send out the summons East and West, +And South and North, let all be there +Where he who pitied the oppressed +Swings out in sun and air. +Let not a Democratic hand +The grisly hangman's task refuse; +There let each loyal patriot stand, +Awaiting slavery's command, +To twist the rope and draw the noose! + +But vain is irony--unmeet +Its cold rebuke for deeds which start +In fiery and indignant beat +The pulses of the heart. +Leave studied wit and guarded phrase +For those who think but do not feel; +Let men speak out in words which raise +Where'er they fall, an answering blaze +Like flints which strike the fire from steel. + +Still let a mousing priesthood ply +Their garbled text and gloss of sin, +And make the lettered scroll deny +Its living soul within: +Still let the place-fed, titled knave +Plead robbery's right with purchased lips, +And tell us that our fathers gave +For Freedom's pedestal, a slave, +The frieze and moulding, chains and whips! + +But ye who own that Higher Law +Whose tablets in the heart are set, +Speak out in words of power and awe +That God is living yet! +Breathe forth once more those tones sublime +Which thrilled the burdened prophet's lyre, +And in a dark and evil time +Smote down on Israel's fast of crime +And gift of blood, a rain of fire! + +Oh, not for us the graceful lay +To whose soft measures lightly move +The footsteps of the faun and fay, +O'er-locked by mirth and love! +But such a stern and startling strain +As Britain's hunted bards flung down +From Snowden to the conquered plain, +Where harshly clanked the Saxon chain, +On trampled field and smoking town. + +By Liberty's dishonored name, +By man's lost hope and failing trust, +By words and deeds which bow with shame +Our foreheads to the dust, +By the exulting strangers' sneer, +Borne to us from the Old World's thrones, +And by their victims' grief who hear, +In sunless mines and dungeons drear, +How Freedom's land her faith disowns! + +Speak out in acts. The time for words +Has passed, and deeds suffice alone; +In vain against the clang of swords +The wailing pipe is blown! +Act, act in God's name, while ye may! +Smite from the church her leprous limb! +Throw open to the light of day +The bondman's cell, and break away +The chains the state has bound on him! + +Ho! every true and living soul, +To Freedom's perilled altar bear +The Freeman's and the Christian's whole +Tongue, pen, and vote, and prayer! +One last, great battle for the right-- +One short, sharp struggle to be free! +To do is to succeed--our fight +Is waged in Heaven's approving sight; +The smile of God is Victory. +1844. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS I. *** +By John Greenleaf Whittier + +***** This file should be named 9575.txt or 9575.zip ****** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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