DRIFTiNQ-S ""J QLCANIIMQ5
3? EDWIN CAMPBELL
DRIFTINGS AND GLEANINGS,
-BY-
J. EDWIN CAMPBELL.
THE STATE TRIBUNE.
CHARLESTON, WEST VA.
-1887.-
1
DRIFTINGS AND GLEANINGS
J• Edwin Campbell
I
The following is the order in which the pages are numbered in the book:
'1 I
cr •>.- r > >.*.
J)ld, £«.v'v a -v
I;'-'
Mucius Scaevola /
Censure
he Birth of Christ
Harry's Toast
y/To J» R. J»
l/The Pessimist
m'
Defeatof Boadir-ea by .the
yXoJ^KjJiI. ~j" • f
r • U
^*o the Class of *84 Lj
Death of Dentatus/\[o
A Longing Ne!er to be Filled '
Warning
^/Only a "Nigger".
^✓Immutability
The Waters of Bimini ' H C
To the River Tiber A/b
5,
<r
PAGE
9-19 *
19-21
22-25 /£->?
25-27
28-30
30-31 ^ (7
32-39
39-4-3 ' ;
43-45 2.7
46-57 ; :?
57-58 3 V
59 3/
60-63
64-65 ^
66-69
70-72 * f
73-79 i
PAGE
To John G. Vhittier 79-80
Epilogue gl
Great Kanawha and New Rivers 85-92
Dangers of Anarchy 93-96
J
INTRODUCTION
Only after the most earnest solicitation on the part of my many
friends, have I consented to collect and to publish the verses enclosed
in this book. I thought, and still think, that they appear meritorious
only when viewed with the lenient eyes of friendship. Certain it is they
possess many defects and faults. ftA friendly eye," as Cassius said,
"could not see such faults." But beneath the dissectirg knife of the
cynical critic who has never seen and perhaps never wishes to see their
author, all hidden defects, whether of metre, thought or rhyme, will be
brought to light.
The poems, or perhaps it is better to say verses, have been written
just when the mood was upon me. Some were composed after I had retired, and
would ring in my ears like Mark Twain1 s
"Punch brothers, punch with care,
Punch in the presence of the passenjare,"
until I would be obliged, in order to sleep, to get up and write them down.
Some were written when I was a schoolboy, attending the Pomeroy High School,
and were read before the dear old P.H.S.L.S. (peace to its ashes!) Some
were written while I was "teaching the young idea how to shoot," and "pouring
the fresh instruction o'er the mind" at Rutland, 0. Others still have been
written since I have been the editor of the WEST VIRGINIA ENTERPRISE and have
been published in that journal.
Whatever may be their merits or demerits, I send them adrift upon the
ocean of literature like "bread cast upon the waters," and hope that something,
at least, "may be seen and gathered many days hence."
I claim for them nothing great. They are no more than what the
title claims: simply DRIFTINGS AND GLEANINGS.
J. E. C•
J
DEDICATION
In presenting this little volume to the public, as is customary, I
nust dedicate it to some one, But to whom? Who will consider it an honor
to be so remembered? No one? Yes, there is one.
To this one, then, I dedicate it.
To one whose every heart best has been as loyal and as true to me as
the pointing of the needle to the pole, who has with loving care and anxious
solicitude watched over my every step, as from infancy to boyhood, and from
boyhood to the threshold of manhood, I have tottered, then walked over the
"flinty slopes" and "stubbled swards" of this life; to one who has thought
no sacrifice too great, no denial too severe for the pleasure, comfort and
advantage of her boy; to one whose every thought has been for my welfare,
and whose patience I have oftimes sorely tried with my boyish, head-strong
ways, and whose kind acts I have perhaps too often accepted as "written in
the bond;" to that dearest, holiest, safest, best blessing ever spared to a
boy, I dedicate this book;
TO MY MOTHER.
"Love droops, friends may fail,
And the leaves of friendship fall.
But the tender love of a mother
Outlives them all."
c
PROLOGUE
I sing not of deeds the world calls great,
Nor of warriors bold with victorious flush elate.
Nor of questions which, great touch the welfare
of the State*
Nor of woman!s lasting love, nor man's eternal
hate*
Of the lowly and oppressed,
Of rights sustained, wrongs unredressed.
Of these I sing.
My Pegasus mounts not to the clouds on high,
Nor ever to Olympus on broad pinions dares to
fly,
But hears, hovering close to earth, the wailing cry
Of man oppressed, and stooping low, the suff'rer's
sigh.
Of noble deeds the world sees not,
Of friendships true and ne'er forgot
Of these 1 sing.
Then out into the world so critical and cold,
Trembling, my songs, I send you; go forth, be
bold.
If to a suff'rer's heart you one joy unfold,
Or once, the oppressor's heavy hands withhold,
Or cause one ray of light to shine
Into the narrowed, prejudiced mind,
I am content.
t
MUCIUS SCAEVOLA.
f
MUCIUS SCAEVOLA. k .9 ~ 49
Etrusca1s hosts Rome's walls surround,
With banners flaming bright;
And trumpets loud defiance sound,
And spears flash in the sunlight#
And by the Tiber's yellow flood
Are pitched the snow-white tents,
Of warriors bold of 'Truscan blood
On Rome's destruction bent*
Each day the clanging armor rings,
And horsemen gallop to and fro;
And swift the hissing arrow wings
From walls to hosts below.
And trumpets bray, and joyful shouts
Go up from 'leagured walls
When, sallying, Roman Truscan routs,
When 1 neath the sword they fall*
But Etruscans like the sea sands,
Before Rome's huge walls lie,
And at Forsenna's stern commands
They swift to the rescue fly*
And like breakers from a rock bound coc
Back are the Romans rolled,
By the charge of the Etruscan host,
Though fighting fierce and bold*
Thus fierce the fray is daily fought,
'Tween different sides arrayed*
And many valiant deeds are wrought,
And daring feats essayed*
Though many noble acts were done
By Romans for their home;
Scaevola hath the laurels won,
For he alone saved Rome*
#'# ***************
The 'Truscan bands are at the gate,
Their spears are like the wood*
Their eyes are gleaming fierce with hat
Their lust's athirst for blood.
Gaunt Famine stalks about the walls*
Want in the Forum stands,
And far more from grim Hunger falls
Then falls by 'Truscan hands#
And Rome resounds with wailing cries,
And groans and moans and shrieks,
As starved the victim gasps and dies,
And the soul Elyseum seeks*
And children crying loud for bread
To pale faced mothers cling*
Into the streets the starved dead,
The starving lictors fling*
The tottering guards drop from the wall*
The Eagle standard droops*
And arms from nerveless, weak hands fall*
The dead lie piled in groups*
The trumpets loud, no longer bray,
Sword crossing sword doth cease*
The pennons gay no. longer play
Defiant in the breeze*
While 1Truscan horse, the walls 'round ride,
With glittering sword and shield,
And mocking, the Roman walls deride,
Challenging to the field*
Who rising will now the city save
From ruthless 'Truscan bands?
The city which lave by Tiber's wave,
'Pon seven proud hills stands*
The consul on his throne sits proud,
Toga o'er shoulder thrown
And will not heed the clam'rings loud,
Nor piercing shriek and groan*
The Senate proud, refuse to ope
The gates to 'Truscan foe,
And tho' starving, still hope 'gainst hope,
And praying to the temples go*
But the gods the Roman's cause desert,
And their supplications scorn*
Destruction dire will not avert
Which fast 'pon Rome is borne*
I e>
Returning to hall the Senate sate,
And one for yielding spoke*
Said "Nothing can resist its fate."
Resistance firm had broke*
The Senators with heads down hung,
See might availeth naught,
Were yielding slow when out there rung
A voice wild with passion wrought.
"Fathers I Senators 1 Yield ye not
To fierce Etruscan foe#
Rome can yet by blood be bought,
Be saved by steel's fierce blow!
"Fathers 1 Rome's gates ye must not ope
To rude Etruscan bands*
From whom ye can no mercy hope,
Spare none their ruthless hands*
"Oh wait one day! Oh, but one houri
The gods must some means send
To free us from Porsenna's power,
To Rome assistance lend*
"Must Rome then fall? Where is the hand
Of him who did defend
The bridge from wild Etruscan band,
With strength the gods did lend?
"Is courage dead? Doth base fear reign?
Now, cowards, Rome's best blood?
In Rome doth there not yet remain
One hand to check this flood?
"Cowards alii Not worth the name
Of Romans, which your fathers bore;
With whose deeds rang the trump of fame
O'er evexy land and shore1
"I, to Etruscan camp will go,
Porsenna seek and find*
I vow by Mars with but one blow
To break this chain that binds!
"What tho' I fall I Rome will be saved*
A coward he who fears to die
Where by Tiber's waves green fields are laved,
Where smiles Italia's skyi
"What though I fall I Home yet will stand
As defiant as of old*
From lofty hills 0*erlook the land
Unfearing, dauntless, bold*
"Then to the 'Truscan camp I'll go,
And in Porsenna's side
My dagger plunget Thus by one blow
I will preserve Rome's pride.
He ceasing paused, then cheerings loud
Fierce rang through columned hall,
As when shouting hosts to victory crowd,
And enemies flying fall.
Behold, a mere lad I with flashing eyes
And uplifted hand he stood,
Like angry stag, which fighting dies,
And welters in his blood.
Mucius, true, a picture fair!
As the Senate proud he faced,
With pallid brow and curling hair,
His face with beauty graced.
In tunic short, with dagger bright,
His eyes like sapphires blue,
Upon his handsome face the light
Of firm resolve to do*
So stands the stag *pon beetling cliff,
And hears the hounds1 deep cry,
Then firm resolved, leaps downward swift
fPon rugged rocks to die.
So looks the doe, once fearing all,
When wolves her fawn attack,
As fearing naught, with light hoofs small,
She rbuts the yelling pack.
One moment thus the brave lad paused;
Then leaves with manly stride,
That looks of admiration caused,
For Etruscan camp to ride.
**# ***##*#*##******#
In groups around their camp fires bright
Sat 'Truscan warriors fierce.
Upon their faces glares the light
Which doth the darkness pierce.
Their spears lie scattered fpon the ground
Their weighty helms they doff;
And many a boist'rous laugh goes 'round
As pillaged wine they quaff.
But hark! A fearful cry rings out.
Each soldier grasps his spear
And springing up "the Romansi" shouts,
And 'waits the charge with fear#
Some trembling turn and seek to fly;
Confusion o'er all doth reign.
When suddenly loud resounds the cry:
"Lars Porsenna is slain!"
Then warriors fierce rush to the tent
Where Etrusca's king doth lie.
With angry shouts, fchich seem to rend
Italia's star gemmed sky.
And there before the king's tent door
Porsenna's dead sdribe lies;
The body pale, fierce, standing o'er,
Mucius the host defied.
With reeking dagger in his hand
And nerved with fearless pride,
As awed shrinks back the 'Truscan band
As the boy them all defied.
So stands a tiger o'er his prey
When jackals 'round him prowl;
But turning quick, fast scud away
When they hear his threat'ning growl.
So stands the wounded boar at bay,
'Circled by huntsmen bold,
With gleaming tusks and bristles gray
The yelping pack back holds.
As the warriors shrank back dismayed
The king from his tent appears.
Behold a boy with glittering blade
His men inspires with fearl
When Mucius sees the haughty king,
And him by his robes doth know,
Like a panther at his throat he springs
And seeks to lay him low.
But quick is seized by 'Truscan hands,
In heavy chains is bound.
A captive, yet he proudly stands,
Heeds not their clanking sound.
The king with anger fiercely "burns,
Criesi "BoyI Why hast thou slain
My scribe?" The lad his look returns
But silent doth remain.
"Bring firel" Porsenna fierce commands,
And fire is quickly broguth;
A slave the glowing embers fans
Till white the heat is wrought.
"Now, boy; my order quick obey,
Or by the gods above
To whom, night and day, the fTruscans pray,
Shall flames your courage prove."
Then Mucius with a smile doth turn;
In the flames thrusts his right hand,
And scornful, as it fiercely burns,
Doth view the wondering band.
"Oh, King, of all these mighty hosts,
Your tortures none I fear.
No pain of which thy cruelty boasts
Can make me shed a tear.
"In slaying yon low, groveling slave
I him for thee did take.
I thought thy death all Home would save,
I die gladly for her sake."
Touched was Porsenna*s stern, hard heart
By the lads words so brave.
The lad who played a hero's part
That he proud Rome might save.
And in the haughty warrior's eye
Are tears he seeks to hide,
As he sees the charred and crisped hand lie
Helpless by his side.
And as the boy, though great his pain,
Stands fearless, dauntless still,
Porsenna cries: "Take off the chainl"
As quick his eyes tears fill.
"By Marsi He is a warrior true
Who beareth pain so well.
There are, of my bold warriors, few
Who of such a deed can tell."
"Go, handsome boy, my fearless lad;
From my camp, shalt thou ride
Upon my steed, in armor clad,
With my guards at thy side.
And unto thee I give this pledge
As swift thou ridest home,
That I will raise this starving siege,
For thy sake will spare Rome.'1
****************** *
The Etruscan army leaves the plains,
Rolls back from Tiber1s shore.
And trumpets blare and warlike strains
Are heard near Tiber*s waves no more.
CENSURE. f ~
Viewed by the Pharisaie world,
Upon whose polished brows are seen
"Holiness to our gracious Lord,1* n
While their souls with guilt are most uncle
One sin may reach from earth to sky,
As when Ossa is on Pelion placed,
It towers up so vast and high
That by its bulk the sun's effaced.
But God of all our weakness knows,
And knowing, He but pity must
^he erring soul, whose sin but shows
Its nearness to its native dust.
The one that cries us down to-day
To-morrow himself may tempted fall,
While one we've deemed a castaway
May turn and rise above us all.
If the sinless only could cast a stone,
How safely could we face the world
Secure from all Its withering scorn, j
For stones now grasped, would ne'er be hurl<
In one the passions are cold and dead.
Temptation's fires are quenched and still,
Like volcanoes old whose life hath fled,
Whose hollows but dead lava fill.
In others, as wild and uncontrolled
As the torrent which madly leaps along
The mountain crags in its course so bold,
Then o'er the precipice plunges strong.
The first one, small temptations scorns,
And impassive, cold, pursues his way.
The other weak, by Tempter torn,
Valiant resists but yields the fray.
The first one hath no battle fought,
And thus no victory hath he won.
The other, struggling, bold deeds hath wrought,
Though vanquished, yet hath nobly done.
The first, the world as victor hails,
And plaudits loud assail his ears.
But censures hot the one who fails,
And for defeat, gives scornful jeers.
But sweeter than the world's applause,
And victors wreath and conq'rors crown,
To know that righteous was your cause,
Through prostrate by the victor thrown,
And when a voice so low replies,
To the scourgings of the vanquished mind,
"The fight was strong for him who tries,
Though vanquished, his brow shall laurels twine.
Despise not him who tempted falls,
Ye know not how hard the struggle has been.
Oh, are we not weak sinners all,
Those tempted not, alone nefer sin.
THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. I
The moon rises pale o'er Judea's hills,
And sheds her silvery radiance down;
A sacred silence the night air fills,
And the stars shine out on Bethlehem town.
The bat wheels no more on silent wing,
Hushed is the jackal's mournful call.
The owl's boding cry has ceased to ring,
Dead silence reigns over all.
The bees have ceased their droning flight,
The kine have ceased their lowing,
The vale receives a softened light,
For the stars are brighter growing.
Far off the waters of Galilee lie,
Like a mirror hugfe and wide.
The waves with a sad and mournfUl sigh,
Gently lap its sloping side.
With a murmuring song the Jordan flows,
On its winding course so small.
Above its banks the firefly glows,
On its banks stand palm trees tall*
The whole world yields to a holy rest,
As if an angel had been sent
The ealm and sleeping earth to bless
With a mantle of serene content.
All Nature seems in peace to sleep,
Not a sound doth the stillness break;
The length!ning shadows of the olive creep,
And afar the quivering aspens shake.
On Judea's hills the shepherds sleep,
For a couch the dew damp ground.
Around them lie their flocks of sheep,
Far below lies Bethlehem town.
On the face of the sleepers as they calmly rest,
The filmy moonlight gently shines,
And strokes them softly as with love!s caress,
And lovingly their forms entwines.
As in drowsy slumber the shepherds lie,
In their sheepskin mantles so worn and brown,
Lo, a wonderful star in the eastern sky
Appears and stands over Bethlehem town.
By its light the moon has paler grown,
As when the northern Boreal light
Its brightness o'er the world has thrown
And from the sky drives down the night.
The sleeping shepherds the light awakes,
Their Hocks lift up their heads in fright,
The startled shepherds trembling, shake,
And prostrate fall, dazed by the light.
Then,upon them burst a mighty sound,
As if an organ vast and grand
Was pealing forth o'er the world around
As though played upon by an unseen hand.
Now soft and sweet, now loud and clear,
Again murmuring low as ocean's waves afar;
Now mellow in the distance, now sweet and near,
Not a discord does its grandeur mar.
Now is heard the sweep of mighty wings,
And in glorious white a throng appears,
And then in sweetest strains a song it sings,
Which quickly calms the shepherds1 fears.
"Glory to God in the highest,n
They repeat again and again,
"Gloiy to God in the highest,
And on eazth, peace, good will to men*"
Hail, ever hail the glorious dawn,
Christ the Saviour King is born#
*****************
May good will be shed the world throughout,
To all mankind wherever found,
False Prejudice die and Truth shine out,
As the stars shone that nigfrt on Bethlehem
May man be judged for his own true worth,
May our nobler self be turned around,
And the light of Truth will fill the earth,
As when it shone on Bethlehem town*
HARRY»S TOAST. Y
"You have asked me for a toast, boys,
And offered me the wine;
Yet some of you do boast, boys,
That you are friends of mine.
You have drunk to one, Fred,
Whose eyes are black as jet;
And for one whose eyes are blue, Ned,
Your lips the wine has wet*
"And yours was for an actress, Bob,
Whose face is proud and bold,
Who fools of their senses still doth rob
Like the Lorelei of old*
But Tom, you drank for the brown-eyed Nell,
Was her sweet face in the wine?
You redden and stammer, and id 11 not tell*
Again you ask for mine?
"Then away with your wine, my lad,
And a glass of \ater bring-
Water which makes the tired one glad,
As it bubbles from the hill-side spring*
It sparkles too, and is pure, Fred;
No devil lurks within
To fire and craze the brain, Ted,
And the soul to tozment win*
f?
MIt ran murmuring down the hill, Tom,
And through the meadows, free,
And sang many a sweet psalm
On its winding way to the sea.
It has done lots of good, boys,
This water I hold in my hand,
It has brought to the thirsty sweet joys
As it wandered through the land.
"For the one whose health I drink, lads,
Your wine is not good enough.
No, I did not mean to make you mad,
Nor on your fare to be ro^h.
In your presence, I drink to one, lads,
Who true has ever been,
Who would not believe her son so bad,
His faults she hath never seen.
MThe one to whom I drink, now,
Perhaps is not beautiful to you.
To you too worn is her aged brow;
But lads, her heart is true.
I drink to that holiest name, boys,
Which unto woman is given,
Without whose presence, I claim, boys,
Even heaven would not be heaven.
"I drink then to my mother, old,
Whose love for me is sure,
Whose heart is like fine beaten gold,
Whose every act is pure.
Then here is to my mother, boys;
To her health no wine ifll drink,
She has stood by me when no others, boys,
But from my presence would shrink.
"Then down, down with your wine, boys,
And a glass of water bring,
fA MOTHER'S LOVE!1 is mine boys,
Then down your glasses fling,
And from this hour I swear, lads,
No wine my lips shall pass,
My mother1s heart, I'll spare, lads,
Then down I fling your glass.
to j. a. j. -irt
You lament that the times have passed away
When heroes lived, and martyrs at blazing stake
Fearlessly died for a righteous cause's sake,
And groaned not when wheels their bruised bodies
brake,
Nor when cruel knives did their bodies flay.
To you all things are common place, you say#
No cause pleading now for champions calls,
No hero now for Justice valiant, fighting falls,
No voice denouncing Wrong, rings thro1 columned
halls,
No tyrant, to be o'erthrown, holds cruel sway.
3 ( You sigh for times when Brutus Caesar slow,
Or Cicero's voice like a clear toned trumpet rung;
Or later, when knights challenging, down their
gauntlets flung,
And troubadours their ladies1 praises sung,
And all men were brave, all women true.
/, The times are commonplace, you sighing cry.
No wrong to be redressed, no right to be sustained.
Seest thou not Virtue by brutish Lust distained?
Thy brethern of the South in worse than slavery
chained,
And Innocence, pursued, from dark Guilt fly?
Right by Wrong throttled with an iron grasp,
Citizenship denied, mocked, and laughed to scorn.
Husband from wife and pleading children torn,
Like blasted fruit, some huge oak to adorn,
And Law expire with but one gasp.
^ Behold Disorder, her flaming flag unfurl,
Anarchia, destroying, all-hating, Hydra-headed
rise,
And conquered Lucifer remounting to the skies,
Before whom our chosen Abdiel, fearing, turns and
flies,
While to our teeth his hosts defiance hurl.
Tj- Sayest thou no cause worthy of noble deeds remains?
No cause for which to fight? There is a Gordian
knot,
Which legislators too loose, have with legislation
sought,
But only the problem far, far more tightly wrought,
A knot,,mayhap, some Alexander with sword must
cut in twain.
% The day of heroes bold has not yet passed.
New causes rising great, great leaders still demand,
And men as of old for Right can die or nobly stand,
And deeds of valor still perform, for a cause as no¬
bly grand
As those for which your heroes breathed their
last.
THE PESSIMIST. ' 3 ^
0 doubting soul, that doubting still believes,
And believing still to doubt must ever cling,
Hopest thou from earth sprung man a perfect thing?
0, why wilt thou man's smallest faults perceive,
Yet be so blind to the good that he hath done?
Remember He hath saidi "None are perfect, none."
The soul, the God-like part in earth is bound,
And ever Ttween the two a mighty war is waged.
Ever by his earthly part man's evil deeds should be
gauged.
When losing sight of his sinful frame,
By man some grand and noble deed is done,
The soul 'gainst earth has fought and a noble victory
won.
View not man's acts with a pessimistic glass,
Through which wrongs tho' like ant hills small,
Are made to tower like snow-crowned Himalayas
tall.
I But with the unclouded eye the world behold,
And see good deeds like loftiest monuments rise,
Burying their tops in the distant, cloudless skies;.
Lose not thy faith in thy fellow men.
That which thou hast oft as evil deemed,
To the doer both just and righteous seemed.
Then judge by the puipose which moves the soul.
And not by that which is not the intent-
Often what proves a curse was for a blessing sent.
In all things some good we find,
If we but to our inner souls be true
And all things fairly in their true light view,
Then, 0 my soul, throw off thy doubts.
Seek for truth, though deep fneath dust it lies,
Then from every act, tho1 e'er so vile, shall some
good rise.
DHFEAT OF BOADICEA BY THE ROMANS.
'Twas in the days when the Romans
Had crossed a sea, to them, unknown before,
And had landed their conq'ring legions
Upon the Briton's shore#
a#*#*#***#****#****#*
'Twas mom, and as the sun rose o'er the hills,
He beheld a glorious sight,
Of ten score thousand Britons,
Aimed and risen in their might*
Armed to overthrow the uiijust wrong,
Aimed to vindicate the right.
Aimed to resist the Roman's tyrany.
Armed to avenge the accursed wrong
Of Boadicea, the Iceni's queen,
Lashed by the Roman's cruel thong,
Lashed by the accursed tribune,
Hooted by the jeering throng.
Armed to avenge her three fair daughters,
Wronged by brutal Roman hands,
Aimed to beat back Britain's invaders
To wrest back their usurped lands.
All the tribes of the warlike Britons
Had laid aside their deadly feuds
To throw off their necks the galling yoke,
Incited by the remaining Druids,
Who had escaped the terrible slaughter,
When the Romans took the I s2c of Mona
And the Druids were burnt on their altars
By order of cruel Suetona.
In the front line stood these priests,
With human blood all gory,
Their gray beards flowing o'er their breasts,
Their aged heads so hoary.
Beneath their jagged eyebrows,
Their eyes like coals aglow,
Beating upon their breasts, they paced
Like caged lions to and fro.
In their right hand each held a torch,
In their left a branch of mistletoe.
They waved their flaming torches,
Sang their wild, weird, ghostly chaunts;
They lashed themselves into a fuiy,
Hurled at the Romans, their fearful taunts
Of how their high stone altars
With sacrificial fires were all aglow,
Eager for the Roman victims
With whose blood the trench should flow.
' (rv
Of how around the oppressed Britons
Hovered the spectre hosts,
Slain by the Romans on Mona,
The gods had sent back their ghosts
To lead on the victorious Britons,
To slay the wolves of Rome;
To restore their altars and their groves
To give them back their home.
Thus raging like wild beasts,
Covered o'er with clotted-blood,
Calling on their gods for vengeance,
With uplifted hands they stood.
In the rear stood the painted Britons,
Quick gathered at the call,
To avenge the wronged queen,
To avenge the wrongs of all.
Some clad in skins, some clad in mail
From the dead bodies ta'en,
Of the Roman soldiers by the Britons
At the battle of London slain.
Each tribe is led by its chieftain,
Who, in all his clannish pride,
Drawn by two bold, fiery horses
Doth each in his open chariot ride,
A short, sharp, curved sickle
7 Is bound to every wheel.
Woe, woe to the Roman soldier
Who in battle its edge shall feel.
The Britons with darkened brows
And looks that fiercly lowered,
Were gazing on the Roman ranks
With glance that never cowered;
When suddenly, from left to right,
A shout like the muttering thunder roll
And threatening cries for vengeance
Go up from ten score thousand souls.
For Boadicea in her chariot
Rides along the maddened throng,
T0 show them the Roman's cruelty,
To show them the Roman's wrong.
The Queen upright in her chariot,
Drawn by four white horses, stands
Gathered quickly about her
Are the devoted Briton bands.
In her left hand she holds a spear,
Flowing loose her breeze blown hair,
Behind her on her spythe wheeled car
Sit her wronged daughters fair.
With loosened robes and flowing hair,
And faces hid in shame,
(Curses, ten thousand curses,
Upon the brutal Roman name I)
Then threats and execrations burst
From that enraged crowd.
But the queen with uplifted hand
Addresses them so clear and loud:
"Britons! Icenil Look upon met
Your wronged queen beholdI
A sight to set your blood on fire,
To make the weakest bold*
Because I would not cringe beneath
The Roman upstart's power,
And at the dread Roman name
Cringe, and fawn, and cower;
"Me, your lawful queen, they bound,
And laid on many a stroke.
But, though my body weakened,
My proud spirit never broke.
Then I vowed for Vengeance!
And to save the Briton's lands;
To beat back the oppressors of my race,
To wrest it from their hands,
"And, that if the gods would deliver to me
Any of the proud Roman name,
I vow blow for blow, yea, stripe for stripe
I'll yield them back the same,
"Then, oh! my daughters1 Britons all,
Can you upon them look,
And from the cruel Roman hands
This brutal insult brook?
Remember those of you who fear,
The dread gods of heaven fight
Upon the side of the oppressed,
Lead the vanguard of the right,
"Remember, how at London,
Earth deeply drank the blood
Of three score and ten thousand
Of the accursed Roman brood,
Britons, who long have suffered
Beneath the Roman hands,
Who day by day have meekly watched
The usurping of your lands!
"Your homes have been burnt and pillaged,
Destroyed is all your grain.
Your country lies in ruins,
Your sacred priests are slain.
The Romans look down upon you,
They spurn you with their heel,
Yet ye are the warlike Britons
Who were wont to defend their rights with
steel*
"Remember how your fathers
Drove the Scots from out the land,
And then into Caledonia!
Bore the flaming brand;
And how oft they met the Hibernians,
And in many a bloody fight,
Defeated the fierce and warlike Picts
And put the Silures to flight.
"Britons J No more upon your altars
Is laid the sacrifice;
No more to appease the angry gods
The human victim dies.
No more the sacred Druids
Haunt the sacred grove,
And stand between the people
And the dreaded gods above.
No! thrown down are all your altars!
Hewn down your groves of oak
In which once the great gods walked
And with the Druids spoke.
Rise! rise! ye wronged Britons!
Throw off the Roman yoke!"
At this went up a fearful shout
From the British tribes arrayed,
But answering back the Roman trumpets
Loud their defiance brayed,
Then hurling the mighty Filum
The Romans seized the lance,
And shouting loud the "Eagle!11
With steady strides advance.
But the Britons with unrestrained ardor,
0'ercome with pent up wrongs,
Discharge a cloud of arrows
And singing their warlike songs,
Rush to meet the Romans
And upon the first rank charge;
They beat it back like a whirlwind
Then upon the second surge.
They even seized the standard
With its inscription wro^j^;
But the Romans rallied nobly
And around the standard fought.
Thus long and bloody raged the carnage,
But when the sun went down that day,
Might had triumphed over Right
And the Romans still held sway.
TO 0. H. G. V3
Dear G.
Words hastily spoke oft causes pain,
Which when we speak we do not weigh,
But blinded by mad Passion's heat
We madly act and rudely say
Things which cut like blades of steel
The feelings of our nearest friends,
And wounds are made which never heal,
And hands once friends' ne'er clasp agair
For stubborn Pride prevents amend,
Altho' the offender sees his wrong,
He cannot stoop to tell his friend
His penance, the passion is so strong#
You know not how my soul is torn
By conflicting passions which rend me sor
Like a ship which is by rude winds borne
Helpless upon some rocky shore.
In me a struggle goes always on;
"The ruling passion spurns control"
And by its power I'm borne along,
Resisting it with all my soul.
You whose passions are always calm,
Who is no flint to be fired with steel;
Judge me not harshly, but let the balm
Of our friendship your injury heal.
f*You said that I was most unjust,
| In that I Religion censured so;
I I scorned naught but the concealing dust
I Which buries the true gem far below.
I scorn but the Pharisee, who letting go
The genuine substance of all things
Of his religion boasteth so,
While to naught but outward form he cling
Whose outward self a white wall appears,
Without one blemish or blighting stain,
While behind it rests Oppression's tears
And wolf-like Greed's ill-gotten gains.
Who while his soul is but a vault
Of widows' groans and orphans' sighs,
Of the humble Publican findeth fault,
But boasteth of his many tithes#
Tear from the priest his spotless gown,
Lo, a rotten mass of sin's revealed1.
Snatch from the saint his dazzling crown,
Hypocrisy stands out, no more concealed!
Loose from its narrow, iron-bound cell,
Truth, in all its strength and might,
1 Twill save e'en those who from heaven fell;
'Twill fill a darkened world with light.
Deem me not one who seeks and finds
Evil in all, and good in none;
I only despise the creed that blinds
Our eyes to wrong, when wrong is done.
The time is coming, aye, is near,
When into pieces man shall break
The cruel idols which now we fear,
And their temple's vast foundations shake.
'Till, shattered by their sturdy blows,
The towering walls shall, tottering, fall,
As when wide the cycling whirlwind strews
The forest monarchs, huge and tall.
And on their ruins then shall rise
Religion's structure, vast and grand}
Reaching from earth to the star-gemmed skies,
Built up by God's own mighty hand.
Then throughout the wide, wide world,
Law and order shall supreme reign5
The banners of Discord shall all be furled,
And "Battlefields shall wave wigfi grain."
0, Godl that day I long to greet, -
To hail its darkness-scattering light,
When man shall man as brother meet,
^ And every soul be for the Right;
/When fleecy locks no more shall be
A proof of man1 s inferior worth,
Dark skin the brand of infamy
Shall cease to be, throughout the earth;
When the soul alone shall gauge man's worth,
Complexion all forgotten be;
Cast down distinctions all, by birth,
And all mankind from Caste be free.
For this, dear G , my faith is strong,
The struggle is e'en now at hand;
The conflice 'tween the Right and Wrong
Is raging wild throughout the land.
But when the smoke of battle clears away,
And thundering cannon cease to roar,
Right shall have ofer all full sway
And the gods shall dwell with men once more.
For this I live, I hope, I wait-
My very soul expectant beats;
Like gift-bringing Peri at the gate,
Who stands and hopes the pardon sweet.
TO THE CLASS OF *84,. ^
Class of '84, as comrades I greet you,
Friends who drank from the same bubbLing
spring;
Classmates, comrades, gladly I meet you,
And wide the doors of a joyful heart fling.
Comrades and classmates, knit closely together
By years of friendship in our "mother benign,"
Classmates and comrades, in all kinds of weather,
Friends by all ties which together men bind.
I close my eyes, and loi you are with me,
You stand by me in the old Central Hall;
And as joyfully I stretch out my hands to greet
you,
The bell rings clear from the old belfry tall.
The bell, which, to the old janitor*s displeasure,
We turned over one day as a schoolboyish jest.
How strange that we always continue to measure
Our joys by their distance, the farthest seem best
Thus one by one, the old memories are brought up,
And mischievous acts are fondly conned o'er
'Till rapidly rising, my desires are wrought up
To be with and see you, old comrades, once more.
I catch your voices and different expressions,
As loudly you laugh o'er some one's mistake;
Or, leave the room at the close of the session,
And from the gates, homeward, your different
ways take.
Comrades and classmates, who, Caste not brought
In the pursuit of knowledge, could equals all be,
The pride of position, of wealth, all forgotten,
With eyes unprejuidiced, no difference could see.
fNe tente aut perfice," classmates, our motto;
Follow it, comrades, and all will be well.
Thoroughly, completely, each thing that you must
do,
Then will your lives fpon other lives tell.
And now, classmates, the sibyl hath spoken
And told what the fates hath for each one decreed
But the wind may the leaves have so scattered and
broken,
That the fair one was unable truly to read.
But comrades, in life if you reach not the station
The prophetess sure allotted to you,
Whate'er your position, whate'er your vocation,
To your duty, your God and yourself be true.
But now, my comrades, from sight you are fading,
A warm "benedictus" i gladly give ye;
As the fire dies low, my room shadows are shading,
As the Romans of old, "salve vos, vobis vale."
Darker and darker the shadows are growing,
And lengthening fast, steal over the wall;
And fainter and fainter, the dull coals are glowing
But in them your faces I see one and all.
The fire blazes up, in a death-struggle dying,
Then quickly goes out, leaving darkness to reign,
As when the gladiator, vanquished, falls, lying
Neath the victor's proud heel, writhing in pain.
Your faces have vanished, as the fire-light expires
And lonely I gaze into dark vacancy;
But I cry, like mourners, around blazing funeral
pyres,
"Salve vos, ave vos, et vobis vale."
DEATH OF DENTATTJS. H 'J ^
READ BEFORE THE P. H. L. S.
Pomeroy, 0., Jan. 15, 1885.
Sing, Callippe, the warrior's muse,
Thou muse of Epics, sing,
Of one who lived when a Roman
Was greater than a king.
Of Dentatus, who, all in front,
Bore five and forty scars,
Proof of many a hard-fought battle,
Proof of forty years of wars;
Of him who, in his life-time,
Did four and ten civic crowns receive;
life,-
They were given for saving a comradefs
•Twas a chaplet of oaken leaves*
Of him who, in his life-time
Received three mural crowns,
For being the first to boldly mount
The walls of hostile towns;
Of him who, in his life-time
Received eight crowns of gold.
For performing eight distinguished acts
So gallant and so bold.
He, thof he had fought her battles,
And won much land for Rome,
Was still held as a Plebeian,
Still never held a home;
Which, when the Plebeians thought of,
Which, when the Plebeians saw,
They sogflnfe to give him justice, -
Sought®to pass the Agrarian Law.
But the haughty young Patricians
Seized the balloting urn,
That they might not count the ballots,
The result might not discern.
Soon after this flagrant outrage,
War was declared 'gainst the Equui;
fTwas when Rome and the Roman amy
Were ruled by the Decemviri.
These sent out the Roman army
Under two of their colleagues,
Who marched the veteral soldiers
From Rome about seven leagues,
But when the warlike Equui
Before them did but appear,
Panic seized the officers,
The soldiers trembled with base fear,
And hurling away their aims, fled,
To the turreted walls of Rome.
Then loud laughed old Dentatus,
He laughed them all to scorn;
Soldiers, who feared the bray of trumpe
Who fled at si^it of armsI
For he, the veteran soldier,
Knew all the arts of war;
F o^^heJaadOeerned^jB^rleno., —\
As gave witness many a scar;
And in the ^orum, in the streets,
He delivered many a loud harrangue,
And of former Roman valiant deeds,
And of former wars he sang.
When this the tyrant, Apius heard,
Burning with rage and hate,
He sent hem to the army,
With the office of legate;
But to his slavish generals
These secret orders sent he:
"This vaunting fool must not live,
Then to his death see ye,n
They feigned to receive him gladly,
And seemed so very kind;
hey sent him, with an hundred men,
A better camp to find;
But gave them this deadly order,
That, while marching on their way,
They should all fall on the veteran,
And him without mercy slay.
ft*#*****###****#*#
They led the old Dentatus
Into a rough and rocky pass;
On either side rose huge "boulders,
Holding them as in a prison, fast.
Here, when Dentatus looks o'er the landscs
A better place to find,
The cowardly assassins fell upon him,
Fell upon him from behind.
Spurius, the treacherous Spurius,
Struck the first cowardly blow,
^hieh, had it not been parried,
Would have laid the old Roman lew.
hen right at the base hireling,
Like a tiger Dentatus sprang,
And struck him such a terrific blow,
That the rocks with its echo rang;
And the traitor's head, cleft in twain,
Lies half and half on each shoulder,
Just as, when the fierce, red thunderbolt
Strikes the huge and rugged boulder,
Which, half on this side, half on that,
Falls into the valley below.
Then the old warrior places his back
Against the time and rain-worn cliff,
And with an effort braces his sinews,
Now grown old and stiff;
Then, like the stag, who, with antlers
Lowered, at bay doth stand,
Dfentatus, with rigid, ready ana,
Doth face the yelling band.
And with stiffened sinews,
And gleaming teeth, firmly set,
Proudly, calmly like a Roman,
Doth await the furious onsetI
But when the Apius' hirelings saw
How fiercely on them he lowered,
They shrank back from the contest,
Like yelping curs they cowered.
Which, when old Dentatus saw,
Right scornfully thus quoth he:
"On, onl ye jackals, ye ravenous wolves,
On to the feast come yei
Onl onl ye noble Romans,
But this will your welcome be1.11
As he quoth this he waved aloft
His weighty sword and shield,
Which, tho1 he had grown old and stiff,
Yet right well could he wield.
"Onl on! I say, ye vampiresI
But ere of my blood ye drink,
Charon will ferry some of ye over;
Some shall stand on the Stygis1 brink,-
Some of ye will cross that river,
Into Pluto's realms of the shades!
On(J on1, ye shrinking cowards,-
I fear not all your blades!"
At this harangue, wild raging
Broke forth a furious yell;
^nd the air wide was rent with shrieks,
As tho1 fiends had broken forth from hell
Then on they rushed; but Dentatus
Bore the onset like a rock,
And striking out with telling blows,
They soon fled like the shepherd's flock,
When down from the mountain forests
Like a torrent, the starving wolves sweep
And, the shepherds fleeing, into the flock
With famine-shrunk eyes they leap.
Some fled, but not all, for upon the ground
Three cowardly hinds lay dea^,*
Two with their wounds in the bade,
One cleft through the head.
Soon hesitating they again advanced,
All trembling with base fear
At sight of the old Roman,
Who stands leaning on his spear#
Who, with dilated nostrils
And blazing eyes, leaned
On the rock with unmoving muscle,
Like a statue he seemed.
But when he but moves his arm,
All but seven, trembling, fly,
The rest throw away their aims,
The pass echoes with their cry.
But creeping along the boulders,
Vile Lucius leads the rest,
The warrior awaits the onset
With raging, heaving breast.
Quick as thought he hurls his spear,
Right thro1 Lucius1 corselet,
The hireling reels and falls,
And soon in death his eyes are set.
But on like silently gliding serpents,
Creep the remaining six,
^nd suddenly one hurls a dart,
As if Dentatus he would transfix.
But the veteran was on his guard,
And his broad shield did interpose,
Turns the dart aside, rushes on
And fiercely deals his telling blows.
But around him they gather,
Like carrion vultures to a feast,
Two fall, "Tut four fight on,
And one soon wounds him in the breast.
Backward, backward, he recoils,
Back th£ee paces the warrior reeled,
But quick recovers himself,
And !pon Lucius' dead body kneeled;
Then gallantly with body bent,
Feigns as tho' he then would yield,
They hastily, fiercely leaping on,
He takes their points full 'pon his shd
Then one by one right gallantly,
He gives them their mortal would,
And soon all six, dying,
Lie grovelling fpon the ground.
Then the old Roman tears aside,
The cors'let with which he was girded,
And tries to staunch the gaping wound,
From which the red blood spurted.
He attempts thrice but each time fails,
His face turns deathly white,
All grows dark before his eyes,
His noble head grows light,
He reels, he falls upon the ground.
As the old Dentatus fell,
On rushed the vampire brood,
Who, thof they feard him alive,
Now thirsted for his blood.
Up the pass, o'er the boulders,
Like the ocean's waves they surged,
But the old Roman, like a lion roused,
And upon them bravely charged*
Up the pass, down the pass,
Clashing and shouting they fight,
But tho1 set upon by fearful odds,
He soon puts them to flight.
O'er their dead comrades1 bodies,
Terror stricken the cowards fled,
But like Vengeance, the warrior follow,
Tho1 from every pore he bled#
Then up the cliffs like the mountain goats,
O'er the rocks the traitors go,
And snatching up huge boulders,
Hurl them on the giant below#
But tho' like hail they fall upon him,
Tho* like hail fall the massive stone,
Yet the warrior stands up bravely,
Yet utters never a groan,
But soon dented, battered and beaten,
Falls from his aim his mighty shield,
Which he had borne in six score battles,
But never more would wield.
Then stone upon stone like fiends they hurl,
And when Dentatus fell,
The air again was rent with shrieks
From these raging fiends of hell.
Then hurling a few more weighty stones,
Down the mountain side they fled,
Like jackals, who, fearing the lion when aliT>
Still fear him when he's dead.
Some fled but not all, for up@n the ground
* ifteen lay forever still, thirty more had sd.
But ere the noble old Roman died,
Ere he in death lay still,
He raised himself feebly on his battered shie
Gazes far away o'er the hill;
Gazes where, far, far, into the distance,
Like a sentinel stands the Aventinus,
Gazes where, far into the hazy Northward,
Stands capitol crowned Capitolinus.
Gazes where, far into the sunlit Orient,
Towers proud Coelius and Quirinalis,
Gazes where , far into the fragrant Southward
Nobly stands old Viminalis.
Then he gazes with dim streaming eyes,
To where, rears itself Esquilinus,
Standing like unto a twin brother,
Side by side with Palatinus.
On whose green clad towering summit,
Once stood the palace and the throne,
Then a memory of former days comes back,
Then he utters the first heart-rending gro«
And tearfully thus the warrior spake:
"Xe, ye that guard my native home,
Beneath whose summits I have played,
Beneath whose shadow lies my home."
And as Dentatus muses thus,
While lying on his ro^gh and rocky bier,
Thoughts of his family steal o'er his mind,
Down his cheek rolls the briny tear;
And in his fancy the warrior sees,
His busy matron as her work she plies,
He sees his children cluster again
1Round his knees with joyful cries.
Then with a heartfe-rending groan burst forth,
How full of anguish, 0, who can tell,
"Home of my youth I Rome, my native Rome,
My family, alas I farewell 111
Then in his delirium the warrior sees,
The Romans march to battle again,
He hears their steady, warrior-like tread,
The trumpet's blare, and then
He sees the eagle standard advanced,
He hears the battle cry,
And leaping up at the thrilling sound,
Falls back but to die.
And soon down the mountain's pass,
Sweep the wolves with mournful howls,
And scenting blood soon o'er the dead
Hold their carnival with growls.
But when they to Dentatus came,
Who from thirty wounds had bled,
They stopped and touched him not,
But howled a requiem o'er him dead,
And more merciful than the hireling band,
Soon slunk away.
a###*#***-###*#*#****#
Thus did Dentatus fall,
Ringing in his ears the battle cry,
The noblest way for a warrior to fall,
The noblest one can die.
A LONDIIC ME'ER TO BE FILLED. ^^
There is a longing we can never fill,
A desire for something beyond the known,
A cry which we can never still,
From the peasant's hut to the proud king's thro
The flowers we scale steep cliffs to find,
Lose all their beauty once possessed,
Are thrown aside, and madly blind
To chasms deep still on we're pressed.
For higher up 'mid mounts of snow,
The star-like edelweis is seen,
And crushing all we've found below
On 'til its pure white bloom we glean.
As eagerly its stem we clasp,
Its petals wither, its beauty fades,
And longing still, with angiy grasp
'Tis crushed; and thus thro1 sun and shades.
For changing phantoms man daily strives,
But when Sodom's apple he once obtains,
Thus ends the chase thro' all our lives.
We grasp, and lo, but dust remainsI
For 'tis the hunt that gives the pleasure,
And not the object when obtained;
We value India's rarest treasure
By the long pursuit in which 'tis gained.
TO G. B. N. ^
' > Iff
I call thee friend; for such thou art indeed,
Whose friendship shakes not like a broken reed
When st niggling 'gainst wind, biit in eveiy need ^
Staunch thy friendship has stood.
I call thee friend for thou hast tested been,
'Bove Caste, Race Pride and Prejudice mean,
Heedless of taunt, of sneer, thou hast ever seen,
Beyond Caste's towering wall.
All social lies thou hast laughed to scorn,
Pride of wealth of its gilt trappings shorn,
And down from thy heart Caste's barriers torn,
And recognized man as he is.
God our Father, then no distinction of birth;
Man our brother, white or black, in all the earth
Thou judgest him not but by his own true worth,
So broad is thy creed, my friend.
For this, and yet more, I call thee friend,
For hast thou not proved it again and again?
And to thee my pledges of friendship I send,
In return for thine so staunch.
THE WARNIH3 ° 4 " 3 4
ListI Did ye hear that dreadful sound,
That shook the earth with its awful roar,
Causing the heart to leap and bound?
'Twas the wind, and nothing more;
Only the wind, as it sighs
Through the trees, like the moan of some sad
heart,
Only the wind, that, ceasing, dies
Away, only to blow in some other part.
But it has ceased, and a perfect calm,
Like that which precedes the swift hurricane;
So quiet and still that not even the palm
Moves a leaf but motionless doth remain,
Like the hunter, who, eager for game,
Into dense thicket doth anxiously peer,
Or the frightened stag, which, when hearing the
same,
Stops like a statue ere flying with fear.
But harki it rumbles again so near,
More threat!ning than the grind of the huge
avalanche,
When it bursts 'pon the ear of the Swiss moun¬
taineer,
And causes his cheek with terror to blanche.
Hal is it only the wind? More fearful still.
Is it an earthquake under our feet which rolls.
No, more dangerous far are the sounds which fill
The air like groans from dammed souls.
Awful it is, when Enceladus old,
Doomed forever to lie fneath Etna's broad side,
With a turn which naught on earch can withhold,
Pours destruction, dire both far and wide.
Awful it is when the fire fiend starts,
And consuming all, destroying and fierce,
Hurls fire-brands high, which, like fiery darts,
Seem the heavens again and again to pierce.
Awful it is when the torrent breaks o'er,
The dam which, yielding, is swept away,
And the flood rushes out with the fearful roar,
Of an angry bull when brought to bay.
And horses and cattle and even man,'
'Neath its seething, warring wqves are whirled;
And oaks which could the stora's might stand,
Before its sweep are downward hurled.
But far more dreadful, when men oppressed,
And ground 'neath tyranny's steel-clad heel,
And wrongs which centuries go unredressed,
Arise and gird on glittering steel.
Then mad Revenge spurns all control,
And Mercy, strangled, gasps and dies,
And Lust and Hate and Greed for gold,
To carnage rush with gleaming eyes.
And houses burning in ruins fall,
And plantations rich with waving grain 1,
Are 'stroyed by flames, which, like billows
Roll far and wide o'er Southern plain.
0, men of the South! ye fools and blind I
Who of seasons can so wisely tell,
But scanning dose yet will not find
The dangers which the times foretell.
The bill-whip and the tightening noose,
Murders most foul,.outrages vile,
Night raids and sway of passions loose,
Corrupted courts, all means of guile,
The pistol-shot, the reeking knife,
Unequal laws and bitter hate,
Man slain before his pleading wife,
By all these you your malice sate.
Beware1 some huge, black tidal wave
Will, raging, soon sweep o'er the land,
From whose rage God alone can save,
Before whose strength no man can stand.
The stoxm has gathered strength with years,
No wrong fore'er unrequited goes,
For each drop will flow a flood of tears,
For each stripe must fall a score of blows«
For each victim black that mobbed, dies,
Innocent of crime, with guilt unstained,
'Pon Prejudice's altar as a sacrifice,
Ye have only a moment's dominion gained.
Ye have the dragon's teeth but sown,
Which soon to aimed men will spring,
Who in one night will have giants grown,
With aims, which, each stride, warnings rir
The sound ye hear is not earthquake dire,
But the nearing tramp of armed men,
Who Southland sweep with sword and fire,
While Disorder reigns supreme again.
Ye fools and blindI who cannot see
Th&t wrongs, which, heaped up mountain high
Will some day be returned to thee
In blood and death and groan and cry.
This sound ye hear is not the wind,
But the coming fight, 'tween right and wrong
In which the men whom now ye grind,
With given strength like Sampson strong,
Shall grasp your temple's pillars tall,
Shake their foundations from the ground,
And reeling, tottering, all shall fall,
And the erash shall round the world resound*
Charleston, V. Va., Nov, 12, 1837*
ONLY A "NIGGER." £"</ -U
"Only a nigger," some one sneering said,
As the crowd gathered 'round a mangled form,
Which upon the curbstone bruised, bled,
"Only a nigger, so what's the harm?"
A Negro lad all crushed lay,
With limbs all broken and a gaping wound
In his side,, from which none seeks to stay
The blood which flows and stains the ground,
A run-away horse had dashed down street,
In the carriage sat a frightened child,
The loungers hearts all ceased to beat
As they saw that face so pale and wild.
Men whose faces were white stood by,
And saw the child to destruction dash,
Unheeding the poor child's pitiful cry;
But some one as quick as lightning's flash,
Had forward leaped and the lines quick grasped
The mad horse furiously plunged and reared,
But the boy the reins still tightly clasped,
Nor his rearing and plunging feared.
The child was saved but the heroic lad,
Was beaten by the fierce hoofs' cruel blows;
And now all wounded and bruised bad,
He lies *pon the curb in Death's grim throes
"Only a nigger, then let him die,
Who cares for a nigger's death, I say?
No one will sigh, no one will cry,
Who cares for the death of a nigger, pray?"
The black face with a sweet smile shone,
As the sufferer heard the cruel sneer,
Then came these words in a childish tone,
While in his eye there stands a tear:
"No one in this crowd may care perhaps,
For boys whose faces are black like mine;
But God loves us little black chaps,
To him my life is as much as thine."
The brave eyes close and the wooly head
Of the little hero !pon the pavement lies,
The pure, noble little soul has fled,
And upward swift to that God flies,
Who sees beyond the rough outward shell,
Who no man by his color doth know,
Who, righteous, of no man judgeth well,
Except as his life good deeds doth show.
IMMUTABILITY.
A NIGHT'S REVERIE BENEATH THE STARS.
fTwas night and I stood alonej
O'er my head like some vast blue covering drawn,
O'er the arched dome of some grand cathedral,
Hung the burnished heavens in all their glorious
grandeur,
Bestudded o'er with myriads of gems,
Which, in their 'brillancy, outrivaled the famous
Kohinoor.
On my right horizon lay the new moon,
Like Cleopatra or some eastern queen reclining at
h&r ease.
The stars seemed in my fancy as her countless
attendants,
The moon proper was the queen's regal crown;
The soft mild light which floated down,
Were her robes which were really a substance,
Yet too frail, too airy, for mortal hands to touch 01
grasp*
On my left horizon were a few white, fleecy clouds,
Which, as they drifted by, became ships
Driven by the winds o'er vast blue waters
On a voyage that never ended.
At my feet was the Earth, silent, silent, as the gra-c
Such was the scene and I, the only beholder of tis
grandeur,
For Morpheus o'er all the rest of mankind had cast
a slumbrous spell.
And as I gazed upon it, I thought of the countless
ages
Which had witnessed this same scene.
These stars sang together on the morn of the creation
They heard the entrancing music sung
By the heavenly choir at the birth of the infant
Jesus.
Then I saw the countless changes which had taken
place since the creation,
The union of the fiery nebulae which formed the
earth,
Its revolution thro1 space as a fiery molten mass,
The long cooling process, the creation of vegetation,
The development of man.
The rise and fall of countless empires, kingdoms
and republics,
The births and deaths of ten thousand generations,
Yet they had remained the same unalterable,
As I thought this, involuntarily I exclaimed:
"Immutable as the stars.11
But a gust of wind, damp and chilly,
As though it had come from the regions of perpetu¬
al snow,
And had brought thence its chilling blast,
Swept by, and, as if. in mockeiyj seemed to says
"Foolish being, even those stars are changing,
Night after night they become less and less brilliant
And soon they will swing through space cold and
dead.
"The very sun will lose its life-giving heat
And become a charred and blackened ball,
The very earth which, to thee, appears so beautiful,
Will soon be wrapt in sulphurous flames,
And be blotted out of the universe forever.
The mountains which tower up so vast and high
And seem to kiss the dew from the ever'changing
clouds,
Must be leveled down, down, down.
The cliffs upon whose frowning, beetling faces
Are written the records of ages long since past,
Must be ground down to the breeze-blown dust.
The rivers whose murmuring like a sweet song
goes ever on,
Must be dried up and in eternal silence hushed,
All heavenly, all earthly things must fade away."
Then I exclaimed bitterly, "There is nothing im¬
mutable.!"
But another breeze, soft and mild,
Bearing with it the sweet fragrance which the
sleeping
Flowers breathed out into the balmy night air,
Swept gently by and seemed as if in rebuke to says
"There is one immutable.
He that created the heavens and the earth,
He that remaineth the same yesterday, to-day and
forever;
He and he alone is immutable."
Hope revived, skepticism vanished,
My baser nature seemed to have flown;
My soul was overawed, but a feeling
Of profound reverence enveloped me as with a cloud;
1 stood and gazed into the far off infinite depths,
Which stretched far out, and the wide gulf
Which seemed to divide the unknown and the
known,
Was spanned.
Suddenly the clock struck the mid night hour#
I retired to my couch, not to sleep,
But to ponder on the ONE IMMUTABLE.
THE WATERS OF BIMINI. 70 "71
Vain, vain was the search of Spain1 s proud Cavalier,
When he sought for the fount of perpetual youth;
And anxiously wandered for many a year,
Led on by mirages distorting the truth;
For the wrinkles grew deeper and deeper each
day,
And the eagle-like eye, growing dim, lost its fire
The raven-black locks were still streaking with
gray,
And the voice, growing weak, ceased the charge
to inspire.
The iron hand fast lost on the hilt its strong grasp
Heavy aimor as a swan's feather no longer
seemed light,
And the helmet his head as a vice seemed to clasp,
His seat was unsure in the tournament's fight;
But longing for renewal of strength, vigor and
frame,
Still the magical waters of Bimini he seeks,
Thof baffled always as each search ends the same,
And each bath leaves him still old, infiim and
weak.
At last, in his search, the Lion sweet Florida finds
Cooled by winds which blow from two mighty
seas;
Here Nature forever, with garlands, Spring binds,
And outrivals Cashmere in perfume-laden trees;
Here birds, for plumage, rob the rainbow of its
hues,
As flitting from bloom-laden trees in their flight
They slake their thirst from heaven-distilled dews,
And change tints like the sky in the sunfs dying
light,
Here the palms, like kings crowned, with their
huge fronds stand,
And orange blooms sweet like snow carpet the
ground;
Here sweet-breathed jessamines perfume the
whole land,
And dying magnolias shed fragrance all 'round.
But unheeding the beauties which before his eyes
lay,
And trampling and crushing all under his feet,
He seeks still the Fount looming up far away,
Like a mirage in Sahara's tropical heat.
Thus longing, this will o' the wisp he vainly pur¬
sued,
Growing older and weaker each attempt that he
made,
fTil at last burning fevers his strength full subdued
But he, dying, saw the Found 'neath some distant
tree's shade.
So we, for some object, all our lives struggle in
vain,
Unheeding the pleasures which lie in our power;
Scornipg the substance, the shadow we seek to
obtain,
Till stopped in our efforts by Twilight's dark
hour.
This fount in our own breast, bubbling upsprings,-
It need not be sought o'er seas in some foreign
parts;
If we extract but the best from Earth's lowliest
things,
'Tis Spring-time always, when 'tis Spring in our
hearts;
And whenever by us some kind act is done,
And we've softened the sorrow of some bleeding
soul;
Or 'gainst nature we've fought and the victory
won,
Then we've bathed in this found and no longer
seem old;
We feel the expansion, the wanath and the glow
Which thrills, like electrical wires, each part;
And the blood, as in youth, surges swift in its flow
From this fountain of youth which lies in our
heart.
TO THE RIVER TIBER ^3-^3
Pomeroy, Dec. 10, '84#
Thou chronicle of ages, long, long pastI
Thou, who hast seen the seven far-sung hills,
On which proud Rome her foundations still doth
hold,
Covered with the flocks of the Latin shepherds of
old.
Thou who, long ere Romulus or Remus was born,
Flowed fearlessly, grandly, tranquilly ont
Thou, who sawest, long ere the lofty walls of Rome
Had reared high their battlements and their turrets
of stone,
The shepherds of Latinus and their rude huts or
homes
Clustered along thy banks;
Tell me of the things thou hast kept so long,
Hidden in thy bosom.
Thou bor'st the twin offspring, safely on thy breast,
To Faustulus, the shepherd, to a place of rest.
Thou sawest, too, that deed of shame,
Remus by Romulus, his brother, slain.
And the capture, too, of the fair Sabine maiden,
And the return of their captors, with spoil heavily
laden,
Thou sawest.
Thou knewest the seven kings of proud descent,
Who ruled Rome, until Lord Brutus rent
The kingdom from their hands.
And of false Sextus' burning deed of shame,
And of fair Lucrete, by her own hand slain;
Thou knewest.
Thou heard'st the exiled Tarquin, as he thundered
at the gate,
His face distorted with revenge, with avarice and
with hate;
Thou saw'st Horatius and Herminius, bravely the
bridge defend,
While at every good stroke that they home did
send,
Reeling, tottering, fell a Tusculan fiend;
While up from the opposite bank did ring,
A shout of triumph.
Thou borfst on thy current, safely along,
Brave Horatius, to the glad, triumphant throng
That watched from the walls of Rome.
Thou sawest, too, another deed of shame;
Another disgrace 'pon the proud Roman name-
Thou sawest the out-weighing of the gold
That saved from the Gaul, the Roman stronghold;
Thou heardfst the legions of Hannibal, as they
thundering came
O'er the Alps, and across Italia's plain,
And defeated the Roman armies.
And when went up that wall of shame, more than
of woe,
That reverberated along thy hollowed shore,
Thou hidst thyself in thy hollowed shores
In very shame.
But when through burning Carthage the Roman
legions rode,
And with their glistening spears, down the Car¬
thaginians mowed;
Thou heardst, and with swelling pride, thy
Concaved banks overflowed.
Thou sawest the consuls rule at Rome, in superb
and regal state,
Until, upon the consulfs throne, the haughty Caesar
sate,-
The haughty Julius Caesar, haughtiest of the
HauAhty Julian clan,
Before wnom the slavish Romans fell, and held as
more than man.
He ruled the abject Romans as with qn iron rod,
Yet they cringed beneath his tyranny, and wor¬
shipped him as a god*
let, though the haughty tyrant ruled harshly and
severe,
He made the proud Roman name respected far and
near.
He conquered in battle, too, the fierce and warlike
Gaul,
Who, like thedeep-rooted mountain oak, was
strong and fira and tall;
Who, fierce, was like the lion, who lies hidden in
his lair,
And upon the traveler, with a roar, springs sudden¬
ly, unaware.
In cunning, the gigantic Gaul was equal to the
fox,
And from his huge and massive head hung un¬
combed, tangled locks,
Which gave unto his Gorgon face a look so fierce
and grim
That none, no matter howe'er bold, could even
loo£ on him;
let by this mighty Caesar, the terrible Gaul fell I
Of this and other wars as great, 0, Tiber, thou
canst tell.
But when he would upon his brow, the Tarquin's
crown place
And wear it by land and sea (except at Rome) with
kingly grace,
Then there came the great lord Brutus, to save the
Romans home,
(Descent from that same Brutus who expelled a
king from Rome)
And with true-hearted Romans, hurled the tyrant
from his throne;
And then the noble Brutus, too, ty his own unsul¬
lied hand was slain,
Than whom none more noble did the Roman walls
ere contain.
And then, 0, grievous sight 1 Thou sawest the
republic fall,
An emperor on the Tarquin's throne, an emperor
in his hall;
And then thou sawest the empire, too, fall from
its infim base,
And warlike Alaric, the Vandal king, stand in the
Forum place.
Yes, noble Tiber, thou hast seen within the Roman
wall
The Christian and the Pagan, the Vandal and the
Gaul;
Yet, father Tiber, thou canst still another tale
unfold,
Which surpasses far,
Thy tales of war,
And the daring deeds of old.
Thou seest now King Humbert rule, with kind and
gentle hand,
Italia1s brigand-infested hills and broad and sunny
land;
Of him, 0, ancient Tiber, a noble deed thou canst
tell,
Which surpasses far thy tales of war
Which thou canst tell so well.
At Naples was the dread pestilence, whose ravages
are far greater
Then when the mighty Vesuvius, bursts through
its flaming crater,
And down the sloping mountain side
In a long, red, seething line,
Pours its destructive torrent
O'er the sunny fields clad in vine.
At another Italian city they held their annual fair,
And sent their invitations to the Royal noble pair,
Then back this answer from the king:
11 At Naples all is woe, at your city they rejoice,
To Naples then I go.
Then, Tiber, let throughout the world,
Unborn generations sing,
The praises of Italia1s Lord,
Italia1s noble king.
it**##****#****#***#*##**#
And as for thee, thou living monument of dust-
mouldered nations,
On vhose winding brink is stamped the impress of
many generations;
Thou, who, at Rome's fall, when the Vandal caused
the streets to flow in blood,
Wept a torrent of tears and poured out thy de¬
structive flood,
That by the Vandal the bending grain might not
be mown
Which by Rome's unfortunate husbandmen was
sown;
Flow on, and ever in thy course, Tiber, do thou
tell
Of Rome's faded Glory; Now, Tiber, fare-thee-well•
TO JOHN G. WHITTIER. 7<? - ?0
ON HIS EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY-DEC, 17, 1887.
Four score years! yet how short to thee must seem
All these years; but as a nightfs swift dream.
To him who works, Time's winged wheels drag not,
No idler hast thou been; each day witii labors fraught
For God and thy fellow-man.
0 life well spent! 0 years with deeds bowed down'.
Thy reward received; on earth obtained thy crown.
A race now freed blesses thee with grateful love,
And hearts o'erflowing their humble homage prove
And hold enshrined thy name.
In days when clouds, dark, o'er cast the sky,
When ceaseless like incense from Jewish altars high
Prayers for liberty did high to heaven rise,
As swift and sure as the broad-winged eagle flies,
And knocked at Heaven's gate;
Thy voice, for Right o'er all the land was heard,
Pleading in song like some sweet voiced bird,
Which beating with its fluttering, bleeding wings
'Gainst the bars which holds its mate, so sweetly
siqgs
And for its freedom pleads.
Thou hast lived to see the Right in triumph ride
With glittering legions o'er Might's vanquished
Pride.
The slave, a freeman! and Justice reign o'er all,
Her irons shattered, her shackles broken, fall,
And man, God's image, upright stand.
Where once the slave's suffering cry rang out,
His children rush from school with joyous shout.
Then live, 0 lover of thy fellow-man,
'Til East, West, North and South, thy gaze shall
scan,
And no man oppressed behold.
Live to greet that, by thee, long hoped for day
When Caste's barriers, yielding, shall be swept away
Before the ever conquering legions strong
Of Right ever battling swift destroying Wrong,
And Color shall all forgotten be.
EPILOGUE. 2i
*Tis done; my songs are sung,
I close the book and carelessly turn away.
What tho1 no roses at my feet are flung
Nor plaudits wild greet loud my uncouth lay,
I sang not for praise alone#
What thof the critiques scornfully sneer
And metre, thought and rhyme with harsh words
assail
And with the wise look of a prophetic seer,
Predict that such unpolished rhymes will fail#
I sang not for their praise#
But f^m the heart each song arose
Like the spring which up bubbles from the moun¬
tain side,
Then involuntarily a small brooklet downward flows
Then onward, until lol a mighty river sweeps on
in pride.
So, involuntarily I sang.
I sang because the heart o'erflowed
And songs, to me sweet, unbid would rise,
And the Muse's face before me ever glowed
Like a bright winged bird, which, alluring ever
onward flies#
And so I sang#
PROSE
DESCRIPTION OF THE SCENERY ALONG
THE BANKS DF THE GREAT KANA¬
WHA AND NEW RIVERS.
The Great Kanawha and the New River are really only one river. From
the source of this stream, in the northern part of North Carolina, on, un¬
til it rushes headlong over the rocky ledge at Kanawha Falls, it is called
Ngw River5 but from there on until it unites with the broad, beautiful and
majestic Ohio, it is known by that strangely musical name of the Great
Kanawha# Strange how much music there is in these old Indian name si Take
this one, Kanawha, for example. There is nothing more musical than the
pronunciation of this word; that is when pronounced by the native Virginians
themselves. Not in the harsh, rough and abrupt manner of those who live
north of Mason and Dixon1 s line and who pronounce it as though it were spelled
C-a-n-o-y; but in that soft, smooth, liquid dialect so characteristic of the
South, which gives to the dullest prose that sweet and indescribable chaim
of poetry. Upon the lips of one to the "manner born," it becomes Kan-aw-wah.
As musical as a line of poetry. Indeed the name when thus pronounced, re¬
minds one of the music, which all lovers of poetry find running throughout
Longfellow's "Hiawatha." To me, the murmurings of the river, as its waves
wash the feet of the mountains at its side and continually singing of pre¬
historic events, flow tirelessly on, is not any more musical than the name
itself of the river. Kan-aw-wah. Pronounce it thus, and if you have any
music in your soul you will be struck by the poetry and music contained in
those three syllables.
But we were going to describe the scenery which one beholds when ascend¬
ing these rivers, or rather, river, for we shall hereafter speak of them as
only one river.
In the first, place the Great Kanawha is one of the most "beautiful
rivers in the world. Its waters, except when it has been raining, are
clear and limpid. Here it dashes over a rocky bed and the water is churned
into foamy spray and has the appearance of sea foam. There it flows smooth¬
ly with only a gentle muimuring like that which one hears on placing a sea
shell to the ear. Then again it will dash over some huge rock and coming
down, will make a noise like the rumbling of many chariots#
At Kanawha Falls where the train stops twenty minutes for dinner, the
water rushes headlong over a rocky and precipitous ledge that is from
fifteen to twenty feet high. The river comes flowing smoothly and almost
silently down stream until on the very verge of the ledge and then, first
pausing as if to gather strength and courage, recklessly dashing down the
sides of the rocks, strikes the water below with a roar like that of an en¬
raged lion, rolls up in huge waves as though striving to climb back up over
the smooth face of the cliffs - worn smooth by the constant action of the
river, which has flowed over them so long that "the memory of man runneth
not to the contrary."- And then suddenly, with baffled rage, white with the
spray thrown up in its desperate struggle with the stubborn and immovable
cliffs, as though yielding to some unseen yet nevertheless irresistible force,
it flows on to its union with the superb Ohio. The sight is certainly im¬
pressive, for although it does not possess that grandeur which Niagara is
said to display, yet there is something majestic about it to one when he stands
for the first time upon the banks of the Kanawha and beholds its waters as
they come rushing and plunging over the ledge and as he hears the roar that
continually follows# One cannot but think of the enormous amount of water that
has poured over these huge rocks since the creation. It brings to mind Tennyson's
lines which he interprets for us from the murmuring of The Brook:
"Men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever."
About twelve miles above the Falls the train dashes around a great
curve and brings us in full view of the famous "Hawk's nest." An indescrib¬
able thrill of horror shot through me as I gazed up at it - a huge cliff
Pr°jecting away out from the mountain's side many, many feet above the sur¬
face of the river. As one gazes up at it he cannot but think of the lovers
who, from its dizzy heights, leaped to their horrible death far below# But
the train starts, and standing on the rear of the car we gaze up, up, up, at
the fearful heights until another curve shuts it out from our vision#
The next thing we pass of any interest is the Settler1s Cliff, which
rises straight up from the railroad about 4-0 feet, inaccessible from the per¬
pendicularity and smoothness of its surface# In the meantime we are passing
high mountains which rise right up from the river's edge and are so vertical
that you hold your head back in order to see their summits until your neck
begins to pain#
The mountains are covered o'er with trees of all kinds whose foilage the
early frosts have acted upon and have turned into beautiful banners, and the
mountains appear to be covered with hosts of warriors, who, armed with pikes
and with bright banners waving, are gathered together to resist the onward
approach of Winter# There stands a group of Valiant oaks, centuries old and
scarred by the hard battles in which they have opposed the turbulent, howling
winds, which, sweeping down the precipitous sides of the mountains in fierce
elementeiy warfare, have sought to wrest these oaks from their firm footing
and hurl them into the swollen, chafing waters below# Oaks, into whose
hearts the ax of vandal man has never penetrated. Pines and cedars, whose
green tops wave and nod in the gentle breezes which continually and lazily
sigh through them like the restless moan of some grief-laden heart. Maples
whose red leaves flaunt out like the red flag of the Commune or the banner
which the Matador flaunts tauntingly in the face of the maddened bull in the
Spanish Arena*
While, above all this gorgeous beauty which Nature has spread out,
you behold clouds of every size and tint imaginable, floating lazily over
the summits of these mountains, like broad-winged eagles who, in their
®erial flight, have soared higher and higher, up and up, as though they
would bathe their unwearied pinions in the sun* Now, they appear to be
ships, with bellying sails outspread, flying before the wind; now they
have changed and have become castles, with lofty and defiant turrets. Every
moment they assume a different shape, ever changing, never motionless# Never
did I, on canvas, see anythong to equal it# No artist can portray its beauties,
its grandeur# Turner, the great landscape painter, at the sight of it would
have laid aside his brush and sadly saidi "How far doth nature surpass man!
How far doth the handiwork of the Creator surpass that of his creatures 1" It
may be that I am enthusiastic, but to me nothing has more clearly demonstrated
the existence of an all-creating God than the mountains along New River.
But while we are thinking of all these things the train whirls on. Now
through some short tunnel, now around some short curve, ncm it appears as
though it were going to dash headlong into the side of some mountain, but a
curve saves us. Then again we cross the river on some bridge, and looking out,
see the river tumbling over the rocks and hurrying rapidly on. Now a coke
oven is passed with fires gleaming from its numerous doors like some Argus-eyed
demon. Right over our head, it seems, a car laden with "black diamonds" shoots
down the mountain side. One by one, we pass the mining towns of Nutall, Fire
Creek, Caperton, Sewell, and numerous others. At their respective depots,
stand grimy miners vfao have just finished their week's work and are now on
their way home to prepare themselves for Sunday. Honest-hearted fellows who
spend their lives deep down in the bowels of the earch to dig out fuel in
order that we who tread upon the crust may live in comfort. How much do we,
who work on the outside, depend upon these honest, horny-handed miners,
who risk life and limb, and wrest from unwilling earth her treasures!
Truly
no class of men are independent# We are all mutually dependent.
"Stone Clifflw The brakes are applied, the train slows up, stops.
Our journey is ended. We hurry out. A puffl The train starts. It
whirls around a curve and is gone.
That night, guarded by the lofty mountains and lulled to sleep by the
washings and murmurings of the turbulent and chafing waters of New River,
we dream of the wonders which Nature has in store for all lovers of the
beautiful. T0 those who admire wild and picturesque scenery, we would say,
take a trip up the Great Kanawha and New rivers, on some bright October day,
and you will behold scenery which Switzerland alone can surpass and which
the Yosemite Valley can but equal.
DANGERS OF ANARCHY.
The American people, wrapped in the security of the popularity of
their form of government, have been wont to behold and to hear with in¬
difference of the mi^ity revolutions which are constantly occurring in
"the different countries of the old world# Nay, we have gladly hailed
each popular uprising as an attempt on the part of the down-trodden,
basely-used many who constitute the ruled, to throw off the yoke placed
upon them by the tyrannous, exacting few who are the rulers.
We have hailed each outbreak as a desire, on the part of the masses,
to establish a government whose broadest foundation-stone would be liberty,
and whose highest pillar would be equality. We have hailed them as
evidence of the progression of the common people in the knowledge of po¬
litical economy and of civil government#
We have also thrown open wide our harbors and bade the oppressed of all
nations welcome to our shores, to our prosperity, and to citizenship in this
great government, which is "of the people, by the people and for the people."
But there are always two extremes and midway between these two extremes
rests the golden mean.
Is there not such a thing as being too sympathetic? Such a thing as let¬
ting the outward and onward rush of our sympathies, sweep away our better
judgment?
Anarchy, Communism, Socialism, Nihilism - all poison-exhaling branches
of the same deadly Upas tree - have in the last ten years planted themselves
in this country and - be blind to it if we will - have taken root and are
spreading•
The riots at Pittsburg in 1877, in the first year of the Hayes administra¬
tion, during the great financial panic which threatened the vhole country with
bankruptcy; the McCormick reaper manufactory riot at Chicago last year,
and the terrific massacre at the Haymarket, in Chicago, last year, show
to what an alaraing extent the pernicious doctrines and the suicidal
theories of Anarchy have spread. We no longer, with a telescope, gaze
at this evil over three thousand miles of sea. It is in our midst. We
meet it daily. It is no longer the Russian Nihilist, the French Communist
and the German Socialist, but the American Nihilist, the American Socialist,
the American Communist.
Wherever there is a dispute between employer and employed, can be seen
the agitator with restless eyes, from whose cavernous recesses gleams the
strange light of insanity, with unkempt beard and "hair on end like quills
upon the fretful porcupine." With violent gesture and bitter tirade, he
seeks to inflame the heart and mind of the employed. Every tirade closes
with bitter maledictions and denunciations upon the Government. Himself a
refugee from his own native land for his traitorous actions, and, although
finding here a secure asylum, yet gratitude finds no place in his heart.
His heart is a seething, fiery caldron, filled with hatred of himself, of
mankind, of the world and of his God. Constantly in speech attacking the
Government, how long will it be before they attack it by force of arms?
There is no question as to the fact that they are organized, banded to¬
gether, that they are constantly acquiring ams.
The safety of the Government demands the destruction of Anarchy. No
sickly sentiment with regard to personal liberty or personal rights, free¬
dom of speech and freedom of the press, should be allowed to stand in the
way. Anarchy must be rooted out. When up from the narrow ranks of Anarchy
goes a cry of "Death to the Government!" up from the great American people
should go a shout as if from one man, striking disorder and confusion into
the ranks of Anarchy, and scattering them like "chaff before the wind."
"Death to Anarchy! Live the Government!"
W