Part 7 (1/2)

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 G.o.d!

THE NEW YEAR.

Addressed to the Patrons of the Pennsylvania Freeman.

THE wave is breaking on the sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e, Impatient for the last dread vow That time shall be no more!

Once more across thy sleepless eye The semblance of a smile has pa.s.sed: 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 suns.h.i.+ne warm, And rainbows o'er her hill-tops bowed, And voices in her rising storm; G.o.d speaking from His cloud!

And Autumn's fruits and cl.u.s.tering 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 G.o.d;

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 pa.s.sion'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, s.h.i.+vering by her cheerless hearth, The live-long night for bread.

And worse than all, the human slave, The sport of l.u.s.t, 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 pa.s.ses 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 s.h.i.+eld the right, And throw each vile and robber den Wide open to the light.