IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 IM 1 2.5 12.2 :!f 1^ 12.0 1.4 1.6 ^> % v; ^>. (?^NS yS^ ^^ iV iV \\ '^'' "^f^ w- CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. iV Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur Coloured maps/ Cartes g6ographiques en couleur L'Institut a microfilmd le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. 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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont filmdes d partir de i'angie supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant iilustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 '^ '.? Yen, Fdiiic, or bread, or ichatei'cr thou be — / sited the iciiie of my life for thee ! LYRICS -ON- FREEDOM, LOVE AND DEATH BY THE LATE GEORGE FREDERICK CAMERON EDITED BY HIS BROTHER CHARLES J. CAMERON, M.A. QUEKN'S UNIVERSITY, KINGSTON KINGSTON LEWIS VV. SHANNON, 67 PRINCESS ST. BOSTON ALEXANDER MOORE, 3 SCHOOL ST. 1887 c. 3 158077 Entered according to Act of Purliavient of Canada, in the year 1887, by Charles J. Cameron, M. A., in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. PRINTED AT THE DAILY NEWS OFFICE, KINGSTON. G^onl^nf^. Dedication ... Lyrics on Freedom ... I. Cuba Proem She is Not Mine My Political Faith Justice Forward ! But Words Defeated Oft Columbia vs. Freedom Nay, Strike Again The Cuban Dead 'Tis Done ! Take Heart !... Ave Atque Vale... PAGE. 1 3-60 6 7 9 10 II 12 13 H 16 17 18 20 21 Coutcnts. \ I it II. Russia Alexis Romanoff Tlie "Divine Right" Columbia — Russia ! What Means This Pageantry ? Our Poets The Czar ... To The Czar The Czar III. France Thy Sky is Dim The Future In After Days IV. Columbia Columbia Our Hero Dead Bunker Hill V. Erin Lyrics on Love Thou Goest Thy Way Love's Decease Beneath The Roses Forgive Thee Remember Thee 24 27 30 32 35 .. 36 37 40 43 45 50 54 55 59 60 .61-136 62 • 63 64 66 67 Contents. The Defeat of Love... ToAdelle I^pinietheus Thou Hast Done It— Not I I Thought tliat Time June Kehrs.. Amoris Finis Forgetting ... Farewell! In Dreams ... To Miss lasigi ... Bon Voyage ... The Beacon Hill Cocjuette I Saw Your Beauty... My Southern Nights I Cannot Kiss This Stranger The Dreams that Have Faded. Apart ... Aperotos ... To Isabel Lurline ... Thou Art Like Earth Song 68 71 72 lb 76 n 78 79 80 81 82 83 «5 86 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 "r Contcnts. Love. To A Welcome Then — and Now We Met, We Parted. To Is It My Fate? To ... True Love and Tried By The Fountain Shall This, Too, Fail Me ? ... Consistency .. My Life What New Found Pain is This Cursed be the Bigotry Would t Drink It ? Tiie Common Fate My Love-compelling Love Thou Art My Friend ? " Away from Me." Is There a God ? Is The God? To a Coquette ... Passion Why Fruitlessly Mourn We?.. Bring a Fitting Shroud ! ... 'Tis Strange, You Think 99 loo 1 02 103 105 106 107 no III 112 114 "5 116 117 118 120 121 122 123 125 126 127 128 C on f if Us. Nay, I May Never Love Again ! My Marriage Morning A Question True Love First Love All I Ask... Standing on Tiptoe... Adelphi Lyrics in Pleasant Places and Other Wisdom— A Sonnet Downs and Ups Anticipation Past and Future The Best Philosophy With a Faith At the Cross-roads On Life's Sea All Heart Sick ... The Roses and Thorns of Life The Mayflower ... Edgar Allen Poe ... Quid Refert } When Every Hope... On ... 129 130 ^32 134 136 ... 137-146 PLACES147-223 148 H9 151 152 154 ••• ^55 ... 158 160 ... 161 162 163 164 166 167 Contents \\ On McDonald Clarke To " A Face John Milton Three Sonnets. On Leavin^^ Nova Scotia, i«74 .' True Greatness To John Rhode. A Postal Tyhee Insulae Fortunat^e To My Brother Charley The Golden Text The "Week" vs. Wendell Phillips Man, Boast Not of Thy Friends Discontent To Wendell Phillips My Faith I Am Young The Poet's Reason • • • • • • To the West Wind... To Louise Sic Transit ... '•• ••• ••• What They Meant The Way of the World i6!t DEFEATED OFT. Defeated oft,— defeated still ! All holy is the patriot's cause : All holy is the sword he draws : All holy Nature's Sinai-hill From which alone he takes his laws. ^Veep not for those who died to-day— The brave who take their latest rest ! They slumber on their mother's breast Their glory, mortal yesterday, To-day immortal stands confest. Not even their blood is shed in vain ;- In fertile soil still falls such seed ; ' And from each drop that heroes t)leed A thousand heroes spring again,— Each drop a Cadmus-tooth, indeed. 13 COLUMBIA vs. FREEDOM* Go, vaunt Columbia's glory, ye Who Qower beneath the glance of Spain ! Admit that Freedom's war is vain : Admit 'tis vulgar to be free, And better far to hug a chain ! Unworthy sons of worthy sires Go to your senate-halls, and tell The world that tyranny is well. Albeit it quench fair Freedom's fires And make the earth a very hell ! 'To their dishonor he it said, many of the American newspapers wrote as American statesmen (sic !) spoke against the Cuhans in their magniticent struggle lor Liberty. Talis liberorum virtus ! H Cohwibia vs. Freedom. Then gaze wliere Caribbean waves Loll calm on desecrated sands ; Where Freedom cheers her weary bands Where heroes dig heroic graves W'ith their own hero-hands. Then turn again, and, if you dare, Pronounce that Spain is in the right : Pronounce his fight a holy fight : Pronounce the Cuban cause a snare : Tell earth there is no right but might ! as 15 ^' NAY, STRIKE AGAIN. O verdiired Islands of the main — Fair emerald glories of the sea ! Strike hard ! strike fast !• Nay, strike again ! And strike — till ye are free ! Dispute each pebble and each sod, Each lofty mountain, mossy glen, Fit for the footsteps of a god, — And fit for free and noble men ! Shrink not from toil ! the boon )ou crave Is only worthy of the brave : — It may be worth alike a grave ! Swear to be free, or die ! 'Tis all ye need : Cowards live on and sigh, — But brave men bleed ! i6 THE CUBAN DEAD. OU weep not for tkcn. fo, ,„ .,■„,, 3,,^,, j^,^,,^^^ ^,^^_^^ , 1 o the keei,ing of ages eacl, sorrow resi-n ■ The^bard^hall bewail .l,e,„. a world si,:!! weep o'er Posterity make of ti.eir tombstone a shrine. I'lnnt not oer their resting place .vy or willow !- rhe,r deeds are innnortal. tho' nan,es be unknown ; The so,l they have freed is their win.iing sheet, pillow,- rhe,r sepulchre, u,onument. glory and throne i 17 TIS DONE! 'Tis done ! The sword that flashucl in ;iir At Freedom's biddinj;, sluittered lies: The wing that brushed so late the skies Is palsied all, and in despair The eagle falls and darkly dies. 'Tis done ! The stubborn head is bent, And paralyzed the rebel heart : And might hath been the magic art That hath accomplished the event And winged the subtly poisoned dart. 'Tis done ! The fratricidal strife Hath given to Cuba naught of gain,- She bends submissive knee to Spain This battle to the very knife Is but a battle fought in vain. i8 il ' 7 IS Done ! iir ics 'Tis (lone ! Th... Spaniard stands at Icn^.tl,. ''■'!<■ victor's laincl on his hrow : The heart which scorned so Ion- t„ |h,w Is bowed at length hy tyrant strength, Is l)owed,_and all is over now. 'Tis done ! The spirit that inspired My earlier visions all is fk-d : The dreams on which niy fancy [i,(\ Dead as the beacon Freedom fired, Aye, dead— and with your hero-dead I 19 M\ f TAKE HEART! Fake heart ! They never vainly wait ^Vho wait to see redress of wron{^ : An age, though seemingly so long, Is nought in time ; and soon or late Your land shall take her place among The nations of the earth : for Right And Honor yet shall set her free : Her air, though tainted now, slu 11 he As pure as yonder holy light That smiles upon your southern sea ! Take heart ! A happier day awaits Your weary, battling, bleeding isle, — A happier day, when Peace shall smile On all that is within your gates. And war shall rest himself a while. For noble deeds must bear this fruit : And holy Freedom yet shall stand Within each despot-ridden land. The chain of slavery 'neath her foot — The star of Promise in her hand ! 20 it AVE ATQUE VALE! When war is over, and thy glorious brow Gleams with the star of Peace and Victory ; When all thy sons at Freedom's shrine shall bow ; When all thy daughters, fairest as they be. Shall learn to lisp the name of Liberty And offer incense at her altar ; then. Then in thy pride of place remember me— The nameless bard who sung thy praises when None other dared to sing among the sons of men ! 21 I^^^^i^. There Russia liglitless land of pain, Rude region of forbidden thought, Where Freedom, walking, clanks a chain, Or pines in prison till she rot : — Where every moment breaks a heart. Where hope can hardly draw a breath, Where rumbles still the hangman's cart. And all the air is thick with death : — Vca, Russia — sick and sad of soul. And, like the camel, forced to kneel, I'^eels on her back the burden roll, And lifts again the old appeal ; And vainly lifts it : wh.ile the throng Of maid, and woman, man and chiUl, Goes outward — singing sadder song Than Babel's — to Siberia's wild. 22 tilt Russia. But even for tlicc there is a hope,— That better Ruler shall be thine, Whose sway shall show that cell, and rope, Are not the seals of " Right Divine." This failing thee— a Power shall wake As stern as steel, as strong as stone ; A Power that never fails to shake A too-dark Despot from his throne :— Rebellion's self, with vengeful hand. Disdaining civic wreath and robe. Shall take the sword, and blazing brand. And sweep the Gorgon from the globe. Sfl ^3 I ALEXIS liOMANOFF:^- There are thunders of cheers on the street, They are smiting and striking the air : Is it right ? Is it well ? Is it meet ? What deed hath he done who is there, That the people should lie at his feet ? What deed hath he done that we know ? What of good unto others or us ? And what is the debt that ye owe Him, to fawn on and flatter him thus ? — That ye cringe to, and bow to him so ? Hath he shown a contempt of the wrong ? Hath he shown a desire of the right ? Hath he broken the strength of the strong, Or supported the weak with his might, That to meet him and greet him ye throng ? Ve freemen, whose ancestors crost Over anarchy's perilous sea ! How much hath your liberties cost That ye sell them so cheaply ? that ye Would so lightly behold them all lost ? ♦Oil tlie reception of the Grand Duke in Boston. 24 Alexis Romanoff. ;f Why stoop ye, if more than the name Of freemen remains to you now ?— Why stoop ye so swiftly to shame ? Why darken the spark on your brow That should leap into luminous flame ? Being freeest of those who are free, Being bravest of those who are brave, Why bend you so ready a knee ? Is Freedom the chattel and slave Of the autocrat over the sea ? Oh, it is but a courtesy shown To a king, or the son of a king ! How courteous at length ye have grown ! But courtesy— what .'—must it bring Ye to fall at the foot of a throne ? Ye had fathers both courteous and brave Who could die, but consent not to shame Ye had fathers-they sleep in the grave. The children of freedom and fame :— ' Know ye not what they thought of a slave ?- 25 Alexis Romanoff'. \ ;; I ii Of a slave wlio had chosen to he In the dust when he well might be free ? — Of a slave who, when princes went by, Would fall with a pliable knee ? Seek their graves — and their dust will reply ! Is it dead, then — this spirit that spoke In the battle, the storm, and the strife ? Is it dead ? Is its sceptre now broke ? Is it dead — that it leaps not to life On the soil where to life it first woke ? Is it dead ? Do the lip and the brow Only worship a name at a shrine Polluted and desecrate now — No longer revered as divine — Where the noblest of ages did bow ? Oh, be men ! I beseech you, be men ! Upon you are the eyes of the earth ; Yonder History holdeth her pen To rate you at what you are worth, - Disgrace not fair Freedom again ! 26 % ■I 4 THE ''DIVINE RIGIirr When nations from their slavery wake, ^ And every band that hound them hreak, Then comes the stern decree of kings— vSuhdue them, or destroy ! High through the quivering air it rings, While Death and Famine wave their'wings, And glut their savage joy. The Czar, with his Damascene brand, Pricks the bear of the north till uncurled : O'er the cities and towns of a perishing land His ominous Hag is unfurled ; While the glove that late sat on the Autocrat's hand Is (lung in the face of the world ! 27 ill The •' Divine Rightr Blow, winds of heaven ! in all the broad land : Blow, winds of God ! in all the broad sea : Hlow, till the sceptre is wrung from the hand Of the tyrant, and earth is free, The proud, firm song of equality ! Breathe it into each mortal car, — Force it into each human soul, — That man was born for a holier sphere Than a despot's base control ! Be thou an emperor, sultan, or czar. Priest or patriarch, queen or king, Thou hast no right to the judgment car — Man is the noblest created thing ! — From the same origin — all, the same pair : Blow on the wandering winds afar — Scatter it here, and scatter it there : — Man is man's peer, only man is his peer. And each has a right each is bound to revere,- I The right to l)e free— to be true : The right to be true — to be free : So whatever, my lord, is a right for you. The same is a right for me ! 28 '■■■■\\ . » iiil'} ■ ilill I The ''Divine /\io/ur What ! not a right to break What you have a right to bind ? What ! not a right to take Redress for the wrongs of mankind ? What ! not a right to shake With the catapult of the mind The ramparts which you have built To shelter the throne you hold ? — To pass through the breach to your citadel— Guilt, And to trample your image of gold ? Oh, you would sheathe your sword to the hilt In the heart that would be so bold ! So, breezes ! whisper the Czar Who tramples a beggarly land, That perhaps, 'neath the sheen of the star That lights his marauding band On their pathway of ruin and war, The David even now may stand Waiting and watching— nor distant far— With the sling in his boyish hand. Till a David's God shall arise in wrath And smite to the dust this giant of Gath. 29 im COL UMIilA 'R i KSSIA !■ \ Columbia — Russia ! God above ! Who dares to Hnk tlie fame Acquired by Freedom, Union, Love, With Alexander's name ? Who dares to say Columl)ia's hand Would aid the Russian smite the land From which our fathers came ? — If such should be, all time would brand With contumely her banner, and Her virgin brow with shame ! Alliance with the northern Tsar ? — To bid the blood of Nations flow, To set the earth aflame with war, — To spread it near, to fling it far, — To make the world a waste of woe To drag or fall before his car ? No ! — One for many answers — No ! 'On hearing of a proposed alliance between Russia and the United States. 30 Columbia —Russia For Freedom's cause, for Freedom's r;iiiso The freeman's banner only flies: F'or that alone his sword he draws, For that alone he dies. ' ' J, autocrat I The hireling slave May dig himself a hireling's grave :_ 'Twould ill become the free and brave! ( 'rt! 31 WHAT MEANS THIS PAGEANTRY?^ What means this pageantry and glare ? — The stately tread of horses feet ? The numerous gazers on the street, — This solemn roll of muffled drums, — These banners Haunting in the air, — These weeds the myriad mourners wear, — This voice of melancholy prayer ? Pronounce ! — Is it some hero comes ? Some soldier who, in battle-plain, As lie his country's banner bore. Where fiercest flew the leaden rain Fell — fell to rise again no more : Died, pride still vancjuishing his pain. Died for his land, — nor died in vain ? »0n nieinotial services to Czar Alcxaiulur in Hostou. 32 Ml IV/ia/ means litis Pao^caniry ? No ? 'Ihcn some sage to whom 'twas given The nigged steeps ol I'\tme to chml) ; And high among the stars of heaven To write, witli daring hand std)hme, His deeds for all rceurring time :— A man of pure and Immhle birth Horn iieir to deeds of higli emprize, Who to the chariot wheels of earth Chained some new spirit of the skies, - Like that triumphant Franklin gave To be man's mighty, humble slave ? Some meteoric son of song Who climbed Parnassus' lofty height, And from the summit poured along A strain of majesty and might ? Who from the dewy wings of Night Shook out the latent stars of fire And, wrapped within this cloud of light. Swept with trained hand the sounding lyre Till nations all did prostrate fall And hail him prophet, bard, and sire ? '|. a;' 33 W/iat means tliis Pai^eantry ? i No, none of these. — The day is past When son of song or sage could claim More than all men may have at last, — A grave — and a forgotten name ! For czars and emperors and kings, — For those who most their fellows wrong,- The temple's sacred organ rings. The poet from his closet brings The tribute of a servile song ! :i 34 OVR POETS. These men to loose or burst the gaUing chains Of those who nionrn in darkness over sea! Tliese men — who feel a fever in their veins At every moon change — these to set men free I These — these! — who sing in rapture of the Czar And howl their hallelujahs in his ears To bruise the head of that grim monster — war, To close the eye of bitterness and tears ! These men of servile souls and servile songs To name the day when despotism shall cease ! These men, forsooth, to right the people's wrongs And give the world her harvest-time of Peace ! What can he know of joys or miseries — Yon vain, luxurious fool, who lolls at ease And sips the foam alone upon the cup ? Whoe'er would know or one or all of these Must take the ponderous chalice, hold it up — And ^rink life's vintage to its very lees ! 35 ■'r-i ' 1 T i i I I i Siii THE CZAR. They s' I hate the Czar. I hate All wrong in any high or low ; In men of small or large estate, In any friend or any foe : And something of the (3^ar 1 hate, And, holding him as only clay. Unlike a craven coward, straight Back to his royal self I say : — Thy reign was bitter, barren, blind, and bad : Thy life was black, and blackened other ones That else had known no sorrow, or had had Some of God's light within them and His Son's, - Within them and about : but o'er thy day The curtain closes, and they see thee — clay ! This to his teeth. And then to those Paid by him — nothing : they are naught. Truth goes wherever manhood goes. And fears not either shell or shot : And God hath put the liar's lot Beyond the chance of day or date, — And if the Czar can, or cannot, Why, He who made: them all can wait ! 3^^ TO THE CZAR. If ever fell the wrath of God Upon a bitter fool, and Mind, Who stained with blood a ready rod And sought and slew his fellow-kind, And banished mercy from his mind, And with a level face severe, — In which no trace did any find Of any hope for any year, — Walked on and over all that came Betwixt him and his tyrant will, And knew not any shade of shame, And only heard and heeded still That fierce old Roman cry of " kill I "- Then, Autocrat, and all unjust ! 'Twill light on thee and burn, tmtil That heart of thine shall beat to dust. 37 I % h t i! I il To tJic Czar. til] f 1' J, Yea, Czar of every Russia crowned ! The meanest hind that follows plouf,di, Or whistles to his yellow hound, Is more a monarch than art thou ! He wears a hope upon his brow, And he dare lift his eyes above : — But, sightless despot, answer now — Where moves the thing that thou dost love ? Or, where is that of man or beast That gives thee kindly thought or care ? From North to South, from West to East, Say, rises for thee anywhere From honest heart an honest prayer ? No! Though your messenger should run And scan the spaces of the air He would not light on any one. >8 ^ %\j-:- r'~ 1 To tJie Czar. %h O fool ! and greater — filling throne ! — Why is a price within thine hand For wisdom ? still thy people groan, And still they groan at thy command. Can'st thou not learn nor understand That Freedom will not suffer thrall ? That he who fain would rule a land Must rule by love — or not at all ? i» ! \ % •I 1 No ? Then from out the pregnant womb Of time-to-be shall come a day As dire to thee as that of Doom, And it shall draw a sword and slay : And it shall speak to thee and say, — As darkly onward thou dost grope, — See written o'er thine every way — " Who enters here, ahavdon hope ! " 39 ..{. t s I il ■ 1 ! i THE CZAR What is there in thy greatness that is {J^reat, — TJion, loveless as that other, loved by none ? Or, where moves man that envies thee tliy fate, — All-evil worker, and all evil one ? vStill to be hated with a whole heart's hate, Known and remeniberctl but for ill deeds done, This is forever, Tyrant! thine estate Beneath the crimson circle of the sun ! Watch well, O world ! l^ight is not always wrong: The ghosts of his own works about him tlirong Watch well — nor envy him his hour of calm, Ere they arise and put forth strength, and strip The blood-stained purple from the royal sham. And curse the white-lipped leper to his lip ! Feb. i6, 1884. 40 ill :^^t I I Pi^^n ee. Next she, whose c-^-lying humor went Through both the scaljs of cliange and chance, At length, for once at least, content. Demands a Hne — the land of France. A host of Sovereigns have been hers Since first commenced our humbler rule, And some were bad, and some were worse, One was a tyrant, one a fool. And one, or two, I need not name, — 1 know you have them in 3'our mind,- For they have found their proper fame,- Were tyrant both and fool combined. I : 4i I" France. i ilii :i ' :| 1 ; 1 I 1 ■ And she has wearied of them each, And parted with them, one by one, And told them in divinest speech And firmest, that their day was done. And beckoning Freedom to her side, — A calm-pulsed Freedom,— not again That froward, fiendish fool who dyed Of old, with crimson hue, the Seine : — And walking with her up the slope Of peaceful, civic life at last. She sees the perfect higher hope, And turns her back upon the Past. And none would wish thee worse than this: That still thy glory may advance ; And that no good that h may miss Thy shore, O lovely land of France I 42 P i\ fi it! fl! iS Jbm* '•» THY SKY IS DIM. Thy sky is dim but yet I see, Methinks, anear thy shore The star that shines above the free Arise to set no more : And from that star a Hght doth spring — A Hght of heaven's own wakening. But swear it, Frenchmen, by the days Of anguish ye have known. That never more shall despot raise In France the despot's throne ! Your hands are laid to Freedom's plough,- Oh, look not back, nor falter now ! ': t 1. ■ 1 11 ft, The memory of what hath been — Be that your warning light To keep the civil scabbard clean. The civil sabre bright : And bear in mind, no mutual good Can come from fostering mutual feud ! r'j 43 n f Thy Sky is Dim. Ye need not fear the invader's arm, - His strenf(th is l)iit a boast : But fear what most can work you harm, Ay, fear yourselves the most ! The flesh wound may, 'tis true, annoy: The inward canker will destroy. i^ Let faction, then, this moment cease, Or but exist to be Exerted in the cause of peace And heaven-born liberty. Of all that makes a nation's name Beam brighter on the scroll of b'ame ! I So, Frenchmen, shall the glories old That to your land belong, With glories to be hers, be told In golden speech and song : So shall the children on her breast And all her lovers call her blest. 44 ,.MUi '•■*. THE FUTURE ? Oh, what shall the future unravel, The future for which thou hast bled, [''or which thou hast sufTercd in travail, — Of lustre or cloud for thy head ? Wilt thou love Peace as in the beginning ? As thou did'st, ere the day of thy sinning ? As thou did'st, ere the perilous strife. That a tyrant thought well worth his winning, Left thee lonely with only thy life ? Oh, shall it be sadness or laughter — Oh, shall it be gladness or tears Shall come to thee. Beautiful, after The lapse of the fluctuant years ? — After the flight of the flying — After the death of the dying — The swift-flying, swift-dying days ? Say, shall it be singing or sighing ? Say, shall it be censure, or praise 45 [' The hiUiin' ? 4 Of the day of thy deadhest error — The day of the blood and the brand ; Of the day of thy darkness and terror Rude shocking and shaking the land ? Oh, what shall the writers, the sages, The learned compilers of pages Say unto thee ? What shall it be ? From out the deep mouth of the ages Oh, what shall there come unto thee ? Is it broken, thy faith, or but shaken ? Is it dead, or only asleep ? Shall it waken again, shall it waken A light on a desolate deep ? — A light like the burst of the morning. To warn thee with terrible warning Away from the breakers that roar, With a voice that should silence thy scorning, On the iron-bound tempest-scarred shore ? 46 1 P ..liiu. '.. 1^ The Future ? Shall the black-foaming chalice of sorrow Be held to thy star-litten lips ? Shall the sun that should light thee to-morrow Be blind with a total eclipse ? Shall it be of thine own bitter potion To sec it sink down in the ocean All spiritless, cheerless, and cold,— Deprived of the luminous motion That gladdened its being of old ? Shall the peoples in jubilant chorus Fling anthems of praise in thine ears, Or shall clamors and curses sonorous Upward float from the throat of the years ? Shall thy portion be banning or blessing, Shall thy portion be scorn or caressing. If any in Liberty's fight Should falter in future, expressing That thou art the cause of their flight ? 47 r'T The Fill arc ? Tlieii thunders of curses assailing vShall fall on thy desolate head ; While earth to her centre is wailing The innocent blood thou hast shed : The faithful who followed shall shun thee, The darkness of hell he upon thee — Stern retribute justice but meet ; — And the laurels that chivalry won thee Fall faded and dead at thy feet. Jiut, if they who are writing thy story Bid those who seek freedom take heed That the gore on thy hands is not glory, Nor glory each desperate deed : Should Freedom uprising, forgetting The sharp fratricidal blood-letting, To those who are seeking her tell That this mighty upheaving, upsetting Was all for the best, it is well. The Fuliirc ? Tlien out of the sea of thy shuiglitcrs The sun of pure wisdom shall rise ; Earth's sons, and her beautiful daughters, Shall echo thy praise to the skies. And thank thee, () France, in their gladness. For showing the madness of madness In characters written in flame. And place with the cypress of sadness Upon thee the laurel of Fame ! 49 If f IN AFTER DAYS. I will accomplish that and this, And make myself a thorn to Things- Lords, councillors and tyrant kings — Who sit upon their thrones and kiss The rod of Fortune ; and are crowned The sovereign masters of the earth To scatter blight and death and dearth Wherever mortal man is found. I will do this and that, and break The backbone of their large conceit. And loose the sandals from their feet. And show 'tis holy ground they shake. So sang I in my earlier days, Ere I had learned to look abroad And see that more than monarchs trod Upon the form I fain would raise. 50 In After Days. Ere 1, in looking toward the land That broke a triple diadem, That grasped at Freedom's garment hem, Had seen her, sword and torch in hand. A freedom-fool: ere I had grown To know that Love is freedom's strength — France taught the world that truth at length !- And Peace her chief foundation stone. Since then, I temper so my song That it may never speak for blood ; May never say that ill is good ; Or say that right may spring from wrong : Yet am what I have ever been — A friend of Freedom, staunch and true. Who hate a tyrant, be he — you — A people, — sultan, czar, or (jueen ! 51 \ ■ If In After Days. And then the Freedom-haters came And questioned of my former song, If now I held it right, or wrong : And still my answer was the same : — The good still moveth towards the good : The ill still moveth towards the ill : But who affirmeth that we will Not form a nobler brotherhood When rabid fanatics, and those Who howl their " vires'' to Freedom's name And yet betray her unto shame, Are dead and coffined with her foes. 52 (i^ol^rr^bi^. And last, Columbia, at her feet The ruins of three giant wars, Comes, robed in laurel, all complete, Her forehead garlanded with stars ! 53 lil ■ 'l E ; ' l_in iWt: I :i COL UMBIA . The first, and most sublime Of all the lands That ask reward of Time, Columbia stands. i 1 For hope divinely fair Look not to Rome And Athens! — Look not there; But here — at home. For blood that she hath spilt. Let after days disclose Where blame shall be : the guilt Be on her foes ! 54 M h OUR HERO DEADJ- Come, sons of Massachusetts ! come With statel}' step, with beat of drum, In proud and long array : Nor mourn ye now the brave, nor weep O'er those who sleep the soldier's sleep, — Who are not here to-day. Aye, come ye here for whom they bled — The turf lie lightly on their head ! — And come with high and reverent tread. The tribute which ye owe the dead. Our hero-dead, to pay. Our hero-dead ! When rude alarms Awoke a slumbering land to arms ; When Freedom's hope a moment failed ; When Freedom's star a moment paled ; When traitors sought to flee or fled ; When red Rebellion's hand assailed The truths for which their fathers bled ; Who seized the flag they loved, and nailed It to the mast ? Our hero-dead ! *Oii the unveilinp ol the monument on Boston common to the Soldiers who fell in the war of the Rebellion. 55 ■fii-: Our Hero Dead. i They came from cottage and from hall As to some lordly festival, And yet with sterner look, perchance, For deep resolve was in each glance, To answer Union's trumpet-call. On every hill, in every vale The sabre clashed, the anvil rang ; And on these came to breast the gale Of war, and prove from whom they sprang : — From every vale, from every hill These heroes came, and with a will, — For still the Syren Freedom sang. What though on many a crumbling stone Is stamped that mournful word — " Unknown " ? What though some sleep in alien soil, — For battle claimed her share of spoil, — We reap the harvest of their toil : The wildest storms of war they braved, The Union that they loved they saved. 56 'i^ Oitr Hero Dead. In such a cause who fears to die, When he who fights for Freedom fights For man, and those diviner rights Indulged him from on high ? Name not his name ! It still must be A thing of scorn and infamy. Name not his name, but let him fly Far from the glorious strife, And tell his fettered children why He hoards his little life ! Name not his name ! Unknown to fame. It shall not dwell upon the breeze: But, blasted by the breath of shame. Shall fall beneath the centuries. Name not his name ! No glowirig verse Shall tell his deedc of glory o'er; But freeman's scorn and bondsman's curse Shall follow him forevermore, These feared not death: they sought him, and They met him boldly — sword in hand. 57 II! ! t 4 1 li i: (9^/^ //t'rt? Dead. But, hold ! The valor of your sires No ornate song from me requires : Their country called — they went, they won They wrote their names on glory's page ; And left their sons, for heritage, The soil they iiead to-day upon ! But come ye here, for whom they bled, — Bloom brightly flowers above their head ! — Come from your cottages and halls ! A son, or sire, or brother calls ; And through their brother veterans' souls To-day the one proud feeling rolls — Their country called — they went ! So then, with one consent, In Freedom's and in Honor's name, In that of filird love and fame. Unveil their monument ! Boston, June, 1877. 58 ^ ■ tl " \ '■ i 1 BUNKER HILL. The land was all in love to-day, Unknowing North, South, East, or West : To-night 'tis locked in peace and rest, And all the continent is gay, And all the continent is blest. Sing proudly. Stars of heaven, to-night ! Shine brightly, spheres, that circle round, And flood the consecrated ground With consecrated streams of light And consecrated waves of sound. And, Northern maidens, floating near ! — Oh, let your voices echo forth The golden gladness of the North Into your Southern sisters ear — And make all melody and mirth ! And, soldiers of the Northern plumes, Thrice welcome bid each Southern band ! One greeting from a brother's hand Is worth ten thousand hero-tombs To any man in any land ! Bunker Hill, June 17, 1875. 59 I I Il II Ei'i Here Ireland, stricken, begs for balms. For broken heart and bruised llesh ; Still shows the nail-prints in her palms And cries, being crucified afresh. And, 'twixt the fools who hate her most, And those who hurt her most — her own, She has but little left to boast Save strength to struggle on alone. And courage slill to persevere In what she holds her right divine. And faith to feel that some New Year Shall sec her star of promise shine : And so it shall ! The season hastes O Erin, when the last of woes Shall come to thee, and all thy wastes Shall bloom and blossom as the rose ! January ist, 1884. 60 Li^rte;^ on Lio\)(^. m Since Sapplio, — She above All poetesses Who ever sang of love Or love's caresses : Since Sappho, — She who leapt, Compelled by love, not duty, Into the wave that wcj)! For joy to fold her beauty : Since Sappho — I am next ; And, being as human, I preach, and take for text The love of woman. 6i i