'/> 
 
 p 
 
 
 s^«^^^«5^ 
 
 :«^^ 
 
 p LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 Chap. .:y^.i^±^ 
 
 Shelf .: >-IIl_5"5" 
 
 i 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
COEN-HUSKS : 
 
 A POEM FOR THE TIMES, 
 
 BY 
 
 G. DEXTER DOTY. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 JAMES G. GREGORY, 46, WALKER STREET. 
 
 1864. 
 

 C, A. ALVOKD. PRINTER. 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 George Pfxter Doty, the subject of the present sketch, 
 was bom February 6th, 1844, in Spring Township, Cra^vford Co., 
 Pa. His father was George Leroy Doty; his mother, Mehnda 
 Sperry. On his father's side, he sprung from a family of Quakers, 
 who settled on Long Island; on liis mother's side, from a family 
 of Connecticut Yankees. As a little boy, he was a thoughtful, 
 serious child ; wanted to be alone, performing som6 feat of boyish 
 engineering on the little brook that runs through the farm ; — in 
 the garden, building miniature forts, with angles, embrasures, bas- 
 tions, &c., such as may be seen at Baltimore and AVashington. 
 He had never been known to see one, or even a picture of one. 
 At the age of eleven, he began to write poetry. His first attempt 
 was a satire on a conceited, ignorant exhorter, who tried to 
 preach, and ignominiously failed. This made him a neighborhood 
 fame. Then he wrote for the county paper a really meritorious 
 piece, and continued to write for it until liis death. 
 
 In the spring of 1860, he set out for the West, -on foot, for the 
 purpose of travel, and as correspondent for his early friend, the 
 Editor of the " Conneautville Courier," A. J. Mason, Esq., who 
 was killed at Burnside's Battle of Fredericksburg, as Captain in 
 the 145th Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers. He was absent 
 five weeks, and his letters were so meritorious that the next 
 spring Mason engaged him as his " special," to visit the " Oil Re- 
 gions of Pennsylvania" and Ohio. So well did he do his duty, 
 that he was engaged to make a " Tour of the West," as " special " 
 again. He went on foot, and his letters were esteemed as good 
 as Bayard Taylor's, though his "Views Afoot " were in his own 
 country. While gone, the Editors of the " Waverley Republican, " 
 
4 MEMOIR. 
 
 in June, made an arrangement with him to be Junior Editor of 
 the paper, and he was made Assistant Postmaster. In a vigor- 
 ous editorial he attacked General Scott's "'Anaconda " system ; 
 showed the fallacy of the system; warned the Xorth of the 
 enemy they had to contend w-ith — of his desperation and 
 his valor — and also showed the vigorous measures that must 
 be resorted to to conquer. The article would have done cre- 
 dit to the "Tribune" or "Times," had it appeared as a " leader" 
 in their columns. The home feeling, which was inordinately 
 strong in him, triumphed over the bright prospects that had 
 opened before him in the "Far West;" he took his "pilgrim's 
 pack" a^ain, and returned through Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, 
 and Ohio, for home. . The winter of 1861 and 1862 he taught 
 school, and in the spring he . commenced the present poem, 
 "Corn-Husks," and in a hundred days he finished it, besides 
 writing a large part of another, entitled " Luella." On the 6th 
 of August, he volunteered in Captain Y\'alker's Company, and 
 went to Washington in the 13Tth Regiment Pennsylvania 
 Volunteers ; was made Postmaster of the regitnent, the arduous 
 duties of which he discliarged till lie was t%ken sick at Aquia 
 Creek, Va., whence he was removed to "Washington, partly in a 
 canal-boat, and partly in a steamer, on board of wliich he lay on 
 wet hay, being /ozir days in getting to Washington, where. he died 
 February 6th, 1863, lacking ona day of being nineteen years old. 
 
 To the foregoing simple and comprehensive sketch, which has 
 been furnished at my request, by the father of Mr. Doty, I can 
 add nothing, except my opinion of the unusual talents for ver- 
 sification displayed by a lad of only nineteen years of age. 
 The poem, as here printed, is as it was written. It wiU be 
 read v»-ith a lively interest, and serve as a" monument to one 
 who died, if not on the field of battle, still in the service of his 
 country. The Editor. 
 
 Ntio York, 1863. 
 
TO 
 
 HORACE GREELEY, 
 
 AS Tin: 
 
 LIFE-LOIs^G CHAMPION 
 
 RIGHTS OF CORN 
 
 Ji G A I N S T T II E U S U 11 P A T ION O F T r N, 
 THIS POEM IS INSCEIBED, 
 
 I5Y 
 
 HIS IIU-MBLE ADillREE. 
 
 J G. Dexter Doty. * 
 
 pK>'y Line, Pa., July Tlth. 1S63. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 The scene of the following Poem is laid on the prairies of 
 Southern Illinois, twenty or thirty miles north of Cairo, and near 
 the track of the Illinois Central Eailroad. During a single hour 
 after sunrise, on the day succeeding the new moon, all things pos- 
 sessing animal or vegetable life are supposed to possess the power 
 of speech. 
 
.CORN-HUSKS 
 
 CAXTO I. 
 
 With steady pace and stretching lope, ' 
 The Sun came np the eastern slope, 
 Holding before him, as he came. 
 His constant shield of dazzling flame. 
 The panting ^ight, before him diiven, 
 Evacuated all the heaven, 
 And hid himself among the woods 
 By Mississippi's shadowed floods. 
 And roused by many a vengeful blow 
 Which still pursued the flying foe. 
 The prairies waked with yawning grin. 
 To hear the loud and causeless din. 
 
CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Uprisen, with wide-distendecl bill, 
 
 Tlie cock crew loud, and long, and shrill. 
 
 Mounted upon the dunghill's top. 
 
 To wake his sleepy harem up ; 
 
 Then watched, with head erect and proud, 
 
 To see their numbers round him •crowd ; 
 
 And when of cackling tongues a score 
 
 Were gathered round the stable door. 
 
 He strutted forward to the van, 
 
 With strides none other sought to span. 
 
 And from his stiffened tliroat of starch 
 
 Came forth the order, " Forward — march !'' 
 
 And, straggling through the barn-yard gate. 
 
 Through which the cows had issued late. 
 
 And lazy cow-boy failed to shut, 
 
 They slowly tracked his lordly strut. 
 
 in. 
 
 The watch-dog lay upon the step, 
 Where faithful guard he Aightly kept. 
 Stretching himself with lazy yawn, 
 To greet the still and sunny dawn. 
 The sunlight touched his shaggy hide. 
 His half-reclosed eyes opened wide. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. \) 
 
 Seeming a drowsy spell to shed, 
 Whicli lield his master still in bed. 
 But, roused to hear Sir Cock's shrill call. 
 He deemed that mischief might befall ; 
 And starting np, with ears erect, 
 To catch what eje could not detect, 
 He gazed along the dnsty lane. 
 To see what sought the feathered train. . 
 
 IV. 
 
 Half guarded by a shanghai fence 
 And half by hedge full strong and dense, 
 The farmer's planted corn-field lay. 
 Stretching w^ell-nigh a mile away 
 And, thither come, a hundred claTrs 
 Made but a momentary pause. 
 Till beak had seized the tender shoot, 
 And eager nail was at the root; 
 And by such generous aid, at last. 
 The corn came up most wondrous fast ! 
 But round the hedge a snarling nose 
 With startling quickness sudden rose ; 
 And ere a growl, both deep and loud, 
 Scarce reached the ears it quickly cowed. 
 One luckless robber's feathers flew 
 Without the wing on which they grew; 
 
10 COKN-HTJSKS. 
 
 And by another's frightened squall, 
 The intruding hosts were scattered all; 
 While he who led, with boastful clack, 
 To be consistent, led them hack! 
 
 V. 
 
 Beyond the light and fragile fence, 
 
 Whose prime was in the perfect tense, 
 
 Waked by the din so near it spread, 
 
 A little plant upraised its head; 
 
 But saw no trace of what had been — 
 
 Of what had raised the hideous din. 
 
 Save, just above the second rail, 
 
 The dog's triumphant wagging tail, 
 
 And o'er the corner of the field. 
 
 The work of many a claw revealed. 
 
 Some shoots of green were scattered round. 
 
 Mangled and bruised, upon the ground, 
 
 By feet which had so quickly fled; 
 
 And, musing thus, the plantlet said: 
 
 "I wonder what the dense is there, 
 
 To call for all this wakeful care? 
 
 Last night, I saw, the ground was bare; 
 
 But now, along the loamy soil. 
 
 Upturned by many days of toil, 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 11 
 
 I see long lines of tiny blades 
 
 Raising their green and glossy lieads ; 
 
 But what they are I cannot say : 
 
 They're much too small and far away; 
 
 And nearer ones, within my sight, 
 
 Were roughly handled ^ in the fight, 
 
 And now present a woful plight. 
 
 The hens, I'm sure, ne'er troubled me ; — 
 
 I'll ask the dog what these can be, 
 
 For Tige is much for wisdom famed — " 
 
 "Be spared the pains!" a voice exclaimed 
 
 Close in the corner of the field ; 
 
 And, o'er the head-land's ridge revealed, 
 
 A head appeared above the clod, 
 
 Half hidden by the fence-row's sod. 
 
 " Preserved by overruling fates, 
 
 I'm here to speak. Sir, for my mates ; 
 
 And let me say. Sir — " 
 
 "Say! Lord— yes! 
 And may your sayings ne'er be less! 
 I'm quite surprised to see such tongue 
 In one as you so very young. 
 "Why, -Sir, if thus you're starting out, 
 Your speech might sway the vulgar rout. 
 And raise for you a famous shout 
 Before three mortal hours have sped. 
 
12 COEN- HUSKS. 
 
 Witli snnli2:lit restins^ on your head ! 
 You miglit be even — " 
 
 '' Hold ! Sirs— hold 1" 
 Broke in the dog, abrupt and bold ; 
 " I fear j^ou're talking quite too fast, 
 And in a strain which should not last. 
 Your faculties I fain would whet, 
 Concerning rules of etiquette ; 
 I hold myself a mutual friend, 
 "With both, at present, to defend; 
 And having great esteem for both, 
 To see you quarrel I am loath. 
 And since the Fates have placed you here, 
 l^eighbors, and neighbors very near. 
 Hoping that both receive instruction, 
 I grant you both an introduction. 
 Since you, Sir Cotton, wish to know 
 Who hll each long and peeping row, 
 And him, one of them, lately born — 
 Know then my friend, Sir, Mr. Coen. 
 For w^hom I fully vouch, indeed. 
 As quite respectable in breed. 
 And you, friend Corn, wlio knew me well 
 Ere last year's harvest-sickle fell. 
 When on your mother-stalk you grew, 
 Permit me to present to you 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 13 
 
 My friend, whose name you've not forgotten : 
 Know then yonr neighbor, Mr. Cotton." 
 
 VI. 
 
 Bent by a breeze which wandered by. 
 Both bowed with well-bred courtesy; 
 Though Corn's was of the loioly sort, 
 From stern necessity, and short. 
 And thus he spoke : '' Dear Sir,- 1 trust 
 We shall be friends ; in fact, we Qnusi^ 
 Since here together we are placed ; 
 Then please excuse my undue haste ; 
 Young blood, you know, is always hot. 
 And many a quarrel hath begot 
 Which sober sense had lightly passed. 
 And not a word had backward cast. 
 Your pardon. Sir, " 
 
 *' 'Tis granted, free ; 
 Insults are quickly gone from me, 
 Recalled by fair apology; 
 Besides, I cordially agree 
 With observations made by you. 
 And hope thereby to profit." 
 
 " Few, 
 Most noble Sir, can well do more 
 Than you, to smooth the ruffle o'er; 
 . 2 
 
14 C O R N - II U S K S . 
 
 And pledging here good-will to each, 
 I trust good fellowship shall reach 
 Through all our days, till time shall trace 
 The bound that marks our present race. 
 Since Tiger here, our mutual friend, 
 Hath saved me from untimely end, 
 I hope he'll visit us frill oft: 
 The hedgerow's grass is green and soft ; 
 And when the sun is hot and high, 
 Flaming across the Southern sky. 
 The hedge will cast a pleasant shade 
 E'en to ourselves ; and thither laid 
 Upon the grass, close by its feet. 
 He'll find a cool and nice retreat 
 Through all the summer's drowsy hours, 
 When drones the fly o'er sleepy flowers ; 
 And when a month or tw^o has spread 
 My broad green leaves, and raised my head 
 As high as his, I'll not object 
 Him m Qny shadow to protect." 
 
 vn. 
 
 *' Forbear!" old Tige impatient cried, 
 With canine blush he could not hide : 
 "Accept, my friend, my hearty thanks: 
 Whene'er I rest these busy shanks, 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 15 
 
 Wliich have a deal, you know, to do, 
 I'll come sometimes and stop with you. 
 But see ! the sun is in the east, 
 And up a half an hour, at least; 
 My master too is up, I see, 
 Wondering what has become of me ; 
 Though seldom later than the sun. 
 He's lazy since his planting's done. 
 And there comes John, the sleepy-head. 
 Who's just this minute out of bed, 
 And hardly wakened from his drowse — 
 'Tis time to help him get the cows. 
 My duties, friends, require my care : 
 My presence, for a time, you'll spare; 
 Whatever private wishes be, 
 I pride myself on loyalty ; 
 I serve my master first of all, 
 Whatever may myself befall ; 
 Whatever come, I always try — " 
 " To that I well can testify," 
 Said Cotton, "for as well as you, 
 Friend Corn, my life to him is due. 
 I mind when first I landed here. 
 Three weeks ago — or very near — 
 A couple of voracious hogs. 
 Careering loose, broke through the bags 
 
16 COKN-HUSKS, 
 
 ■ In which my mates and I had come 
 The journey from our Southern home ; 
 We lay upon the granary floor, 
 And John forgot to shut the door ; 
 And were it not that Tige's quick eye 
 Observed the breached and empty sty, 
 And quickly traced its inmates there, 
 My chance for making pork was fair.'' 
 
 vin. 
 
 " Your Southern home ! Oh, yes !" said Corn ; 
 
 " I half forgot that you were born 
 
 In other climes, to southward far. 
 
 And near the sun-god's flaming car; 
 
 A richer, stronger land, I'm told, 
 
 Than this slow soil, fiill wet and cold. 
 
 Am I not right?" 
 
 '' You are, dear Sir ; 
 And very properly infer 
 That nature wears a sweeter face 
 Upon my native, natural place. 
 Some hundred leagues or so from here, 
 Beside a river wide and clear; 
 A region brighter far than this, 
 Whose pleasant scenes I daily miss." 
 "Well, friend;" said Corn, "I'd like to hear 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIMES. 17 
 
 Of all its features strange and queer. 
 I've never travelled (tliongli I liate 
 To say it) from my native State ; 
 Upon this very farm I grew 
 Only last year; and yet, 'tis true, 
 Last season, when a little lad, 
 Much opportunity I had 
 To learn of things which most amaze : 
 My father, in his younger days. 
 Had travelled much and travelled far. 
 By wagon, steamboat, and by car. 
 He grew in lifty-eight or nine, 
 Up by the Indiana line. 
 On the broad plains of Kankakee, 
 Where — as he's often said to me — 
 The eye could range for many miles. 
 And only catch a few small isles 
 Of prairie grass, or yellow wheat. 
 Or fluttering poplar, joyed to greet 
 The endless breezes of the morn, 
 Set in a sea of waving corn ! 
 But ah ! 'twould take me long to tell 
 All the adventures that befell 
 Before he reached this place at last, 
 And here his days in quiet passed. 
 Crowning his calm declining years 
 2^- 
 
18 CORN-IIUSKS. 
 
 With three long, perfect yellow ears ! 
 Perchance I'll tell some other day ; 
 But now, since Tige has gone away, 
 And left us here to entertain 
 Each other till he comes again, 
 I'd like, dear Sir, to hear you tell 
 Your history, and that right well." 
 
 IX. 
 
 "Well, surely, I shall not object," 
 .Said Cotton, "and you may expect 
 To hear some things which well might make 
 Your infant leaves with horror shake; 
 For busy, stirring sights I've seen. 
 And other fields than those of green. 
 My life, though short in years, hath been 
 Amid almost continual din, 
 And scarce hath known a quiet hour 
 Since first I dropped the fading flower. 
 Beside the crystal Tennessee , 
 My troubled life began to be ; ' 
 And watching, 'neath the summer's beam. 
 Its foamy ripples dash and gleam, 
 I little thought, as you may deem. 
 My days so soon should find a close, 
 So far among the Northern snows. 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 19 
 
 So free from tumult and from noise. 
 
 Upon the plains of Illinois. 
 Anear the town of Florence 'twas, 
 Whereat, jou know, the steamboats pause, 
 Shunning the dreaded 'Muscle Shoals,' 
 Where o'er rough rocks the river rolls ; 
 And near the railroad, stretching far 
 Its iron path for rushing car 
 Through thousand miles of varied scenes, 
 From Richmond through to New Orleans. 
 Between the river and the track. 
 Winding perhaps three furlongs back, 
 About like jon, whose shriek annoys — 
 The Central Road of Illinois — 
 The cotton-field its borders spreads, 
 A foamy sea of whitening heads. 
 
 X. 
 
 "I will not stop to-day to tell 
 
 How many — though remembered well — 
 
 The times I saw the panting train 
 
 Shoot shrieking past with might and main, 
 
 Seeming a bright and gleaming wall, 
 
 Crowded to platform, top, and sill 
 
 With waving plume and epaulette, 
 
 And glistening sword and bayonet. 
 
20 COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 Upon the winds strange rumors came, 
 Of woods of steel and fields of fiame ! — 
 Of many hands in slaughter dyed, 
 By far Potomac's reddened side; 
 But all the summer long they went, 
 To guard the distant border sent; 
 And anxious faces watched them go, 
 To face the dreaded I^orthern foe. 
 'Nor will I pause to tell you now 
 How fell a cloud on every brow. 
 When first along our own sweet vale 
 There came a freshening I^orthern gale, 
 Bearing the first dull sound of war, 
 Muttered and sullen — faint and far! 
 How deep and threatening grevv^ its tone- 
 A long, unearthly, dying moan. 
 Till on the breezes came the smell 
 Of sulphurous flames like those of hell — 
 The scent of blood so damp and fresh, 
 And then half-buried, mouldered flesh ! 
 . And then the trains, by night and day, 
 Whirled back their hosts the other way; 
 For rumor said the hated foe 
 Were on fhe river far below. 
 Ascending fast with heavy force, 
 Destroying all within their course ; 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 21 
 
 And wild, alarmed excitement ilew 
 
 On lightning wings the country through. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " One day, upon the winding stream, 
 I saw a stranger banner gleam,Q 
 Borne by a strange, unsightly craft, 
 Thick mailed with iron fore and aft; 
 And black and frowning, all about, 
 Was many a *muzzle peering out. 
 Her decks were bright with polished steel, 
 And trod by many a lordly heel ; 
 And brawny figures, not a few, 
 Stood round to guard their banner blue. 
 Straight to the town they proudly bore, 
 And paused not till they touched the shore. 
 Whereon confusion reigned supreme ; 
 Some rubbed their eyes to break the dream — 
 Some wept to see that banner float, 
 And ran with joy to meet the boat ; 
 While others fled with terror great. 
 Or stayed to scowl with vengeful hate. 
 Short space would well suflice to tell 
 How soon the Southern emblem fell, 
 And o'er the fallen ' stars and bars' 
 Uprose the gleaming ^stripes and stars!' 
 
22 coEN- HUSKS. 
 
 Large stores were seized and borne awa\' 
 To freight the boat, which waiting lay, 
 And many a planter rued that day; 
 His cotton-bales and bags of seed 
 "Were special objects of their greed ; 
 And 'mid the many thousands more 
 Scattered along the pleasant shore, 
 'Twas my sad fate — I deem it such: — 
 Myself to fall within their clutch. 
 
 xn. 
 
 ^' Some time went by ; the boat had -run 
 
 The river much, both up and down, 
 
 And on the deck we lay as yet, 
 
 Each one beside a bayonet; 
 
 And oft I saw, where'er I could, 
 
 The decks were spattered o'er with blood; 
 
 And many a cannon bore the stains 
 
 Of black heart-blood and scattered brains ; 
 
 Splinters were torn by plunging shot. 
 
 Which then I comprehended i^ot. 
 
 The boat, fatigued with useless chase, 
 
 Lay by a crazy landing-place. 
 
 Whose few old shells of houses stood 
 
 Well-nigh a stunted, straggling wood, 
 
 Eiddled by shot and shell, I deem, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES.* 23 
 
 When first tlie boat came up the stream. 
 There late had been a hurried himi 
 Of busy feet and muffled drum, 
 And many a tune a mighty host 
 The widening stream in silence crossed, 
 And camped upon the wooded height, 
 Till rose their tented cities white 
 By hundreds on the ranging sight. 
 Dull, threatening murmurs floated oft 
 On Southern breezes, stealing soft; 
 Then startling tones and wild alarms, 
 Calling the sleeping host to arms, 
 Till full before my shuddering sight 
 Burst Pittsburg Landing's awful fight ! 
 
 XTTT. 
 
 '' The Sabbath morn was calm and still ;(-) 
 The sunrise slept upon the hill, 
 
 And silence lay upon the water; 
 And who, that saw the streamlet glide 
 Adown the bluff''s descending side, 
 Had dreamed to see its waters dyed 
 
 So soon. with fiooding waves of slaughter ! 
 Beneath the jnorning's holy light 
 The swelling woods were green and bright, 
 Giving no sign of lurking foe 
 
24 * CORN -HUSKS. 
 
 Their billowy floods of green below. 
 
 Half 'neatli their shadows, stretching wide, 
 
 With either wing the stream beside, 
 
 And centre inland far, 
 Lying npon the Corinth road, 
 With special care thereon bestowed, 
 
 All passage thence to bar. 
 Uprose full many a glistening tent. 
 In mighty semicircle bent ; 
 And forty thousand armed men 
 Were on the hill and in the glen. 
 Lying in still bnt dreadful strength, 
 . A living wall, a league in length ! 
 
 But hark ! what means that sudden crash ; 
 With thunder tones the silence breaking? 
 
 Quick as the forked lightning's flash 
 Ten thousand answering shouts awaking! 
 I see, along the far advance, 
 A flashing line of muskets glance ! 
 I see a heavy cloud of smoke 
 
 Its rolling veil uplift! 
 And through the scraggy, scattered oak, 
 By deep ravines and ridges broke, 
 
 Full dark, and strong, and swift, 
 I see the rushing columns come ! 
 And o'er the fast increasing hum 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 25 
 
 Of orders qnickly given, 
 I. hear the deep and rolling drum 
 Beating that wildest of alarms, 
 The quick and hurried call ^ to a^nns P 
 And madly o'er the swarming field 
 The flying batteries are wheeled. 
 And quick as thought the thundering notes 
 
 Go flooding up to heaven ! 
 And thrown from out the brazen throats 
 Whence death looks forth, and, grinning, gloats. 
 
 The iron hail is driven ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *' In vain — in vain the muskets blazed — 
 In vain the bloody sword was raised — 
 
 The arm that bore it failed ! 
 And gallant eyes — alas! — but glazed. 
 
 Which never yet had quailed ! 
 Borne back by overwhelming force — 
 A stream of deep, unfaiHng source. 
 The shattered ranks were broke at last, 
 
 And rolled in tumult back. 
 As rolls the wave before the blast ! 
 And, close pursuing, thick and fast. 
 The foemen's bristling columns poured, 
 Leaving upon the trampled sward 
 3 
 
26 COKN-HUSKS. 
 
 A wet and bloody track ! 
 Flooding at once the tents among 
 With flaming torches forward flung — 
 Laughing to see the lapping tongues 
 
 Of flame where other fire had been — 
 Whirling their columns fast and wide, 
 As whirls the Maelstrom's deadly tide, 
 
 And Prentiss sank within ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 " But lo ! the fight hath slept as yet, 
 
 And waketh fierce and hot; 
 For that advancino; wave hath met 
 
 A rock which moveth not ! 
 ^ The broken lines have sought the rear, 
 Leaving the front of stragglers clear ; 
 And, glancing bright, the sunlight shines 
 On Sherman's firm, imwavering lines. 
 Ten thousand flinty hearts are there 
 
 Behind a wall of steel, 
 4^nd belched from every bristling square 
 
 Their steady fire they deal, 
 Bursting at once upon the air 
 
 In one long thunder peal! 
 Far on the left and on the right 
 Came back the answering howl of fi^ht, 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIMES. ^ 
 
 Till up from every echoing height 
 
 The battle's thunder rose, 
 And rolled its surges black as night, 
 
 Ingulfing friends and foes ! 
 And round that crescent line of men, 
 Which swayed and bent, and swayed again, 
 Beatins; ao-ainst the hostile wave 
 
 Till hand to hand they met — 
 Till on the tongue that vainly cries 
 While light goes out from trampled eyes — 
 Till in the mouth that shrieks to save, 
 And mangled heart that late was brave, 
 
 The hoof and heel are set ! — 
 Around the lines whose every peal 
 Which shook the hot and bloody wheel 
 
 But piled the slaughtered higher, 
 Uprose the din of clashing steel 
 
 With grating tones and dire. 
 And rolled in floods, that half revealed 
 The columns that alternate reeled, 
 
 A volleyed flame of fire ! 
 The earth was ploughed by booming shot — 
 
 Scattered by shrieking shells, 
 And deeply drenched on every spot 
 With gushing blood, yet reeking hot 
 
 From, many a heart's torn cells. 
 
28 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The maddened soldier's footstep trod 
 Upon the red and slippery sod, 
 And heeded not that, down the hill, 
 A broad, yet warm and crimson rill 
 
 His comrade's carcass bore; 
 He felt his sinews mighty still. 
 
 And saw the foe before ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 '' The sun was low adown the west ; 
 Well-nigh o'ercome for need of rest. 
 
 Beset by front and flank, 
 Tlie lines were slowly backward pressed, 
 
 Well-nigh the river bank. 
 And then the boat whereon I lay 
 Bestirred herself to join the fray ; 
 And steaming slowly up the stream, 
 To fairly front the battle's gleam, 
 And ranging on the swarming shore. 
 Her mortars belched the stunning roar 
 Which I had never heard before, 
 And hope to never listen more ! 
 Across the sky a shooting streak — 
 Upon the air a long, shrill shriek — 
 
 A howling fiend of Hell, 
 Over the intervening floods 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIME8. 29 
 
 Hurried the screaming shell, 
 And far among the quaking woods 
 
 And marching column fell ! 
 Crashing among the splintered trees, 
 Where muskets swarmed like hi^dng bees — 
 Heaping the hills with mangled piles 
 Of fallen trees, and fallen files 
 
 No foeman's steel could scath-^- 
 Tearing along th^ crowded glen 
 
 Their course of reinless wrath, 
 Till Ihnbs of trees and limbs of men, 
 Promiscuous, marked their path ! 
 
 XYII. 
 
 "But sudden, on the eastern bluff, 
 'Mong deep defiles and ridges rough, 
 
 A column stout and strong, 
 Bursting at last upon the eyes 
 That much had swept the distant skies, 
 
 With anxious gaze and long, 
 To catch the first appearing trace, 
 With -eager step and steady pace 
 Came Buell's tried and trusty host. 
 To save the battle almost lost. 
 Full in the view of friends and foes 
 Their long, unbroken lines arose 
 3* 
 
30 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 But plainer through the leafj screen, 
 A wave of blue on seas of green, 
 Roofed over with a glistening sheen! 
 For 'neath the sinking, smoky light, 
 
 Obscured by clouds of war, 
 Each point of steel upon the height 
 
 Became a flaming star! 
 With all. the haste of straining steam, 
 They float across the turbid stream; 
 And some, who see their brethren pressed 
 By crowding foes, and sore distress^ed. 
 Gaze till their eyes, that deeply drank, 
 
 With wrathful tears grow dim, 
 Then fling their knapsacks on the bank 
 
 Impatient, plunge, and swim. 
 With eager shouts they spring to land. 
 And quickly form upon the sand; 
 And as the shining columns come, 
 With steady tramp and beating drum, 
 Cheer after cheer goes up to heaven, 
 
 And many a wild liurrah. 
 From wearied men who long have striven. 
 And blow for blow to numbers given 
 
 That well might overawe ! 
 Straight to the front they take their way. 
 And plunge in the unequal fray. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 31 
 
 Rolling the tide of battle back 
 Upon its own devouring track! — 
 The half-triumphant foe must yield 
 When on their struggling front are wheeled 
 
 The ranks that erst withstood, 
 When Donelson's contested field 
 
 Was red with fire and blood ! 
 
 xvni. 
 
 " The night set in with storm and rain ; 
 
 Ten thousand wounded men, 
 Scattered full far among the slain, 
 O'er many a furlong, moaned with pain 
 The livelong night, and moaned in vain ! 
 
 The dead were happy then ; 
 They calmly slept their final sleep, 
 By swollen brooks and ridges steep ; 
 Their dreamless couch the moistened soil — 
 Their pillow sweet with rest from toil, 
 And all the battle's wild turmoil ! 
 The wearied soldier sank to rest 
 With musket clasped across his breast, 
 Ready to rise again to fight 
 With the first peep of morning light ; 
 Ready to meet the coming foe. 
 If on this hapless night of woe 
 
32 C O R N - H r S K s . 
 
 His surging ranks again should tread 
 'Mong helpless living — senseless dead. 
 And they, among the captured tents, 
 Were wild with drunken merriment, 
 Howling above the pelting rain 
 The long and loud, uproarious strain ; 
 Unheeding that around them lay 
 Full many a comrade's stiffened clay; 
 Unheeding that the morrow's sun 
 Might see their own short . courses run — 
 Mioht see, besmeared with blood and mould, 
 Their mangled corses stiff and cold! 
 Beside the wharf, a mingled throng 
 Of boats were gathered all along, 
 Yfith decks and cabins scattered o'er 
 With shattered limbs and pools of gore. 
 Shooting athwart the gloon^iy night, 
 I saw full many a glimmering light, 
 And moving forms but half revealed. 
 Whom pity brought to horror's field. 
 The step of woman glided there, 
 Beneath the torch's spectral glare, 
 With low, sweet voice and gentle hand. 
 To hold the Tiead or bind the band ; 
 To pour the soft' and healing balm, 
 And soothe the slumber sweet and calm. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 33 
 
 The surgeon's hands were busy then, 
 
 Carving abeady wounded men, 
 
 Till clotted blood was ankle deep, 
 
 And limbs lay round in ghastly heaps. (^) 
 
 But through the long and weary hours, 
 
 While poured the chill and drenching showers, 
 
 The iron throats in silence slept. 
 
 And steel but noiseless vigil kept. 
 
 The battle's fearful howl was still — 
 
 He slept upon the bloody hill — 
 
 Save but the deep and thundering boom 
 
 Which hourly broke across the gloom ; 
 
 For though all others silent grew, 
 
 'No rest the stunning mortars knew. 
 
 The hurtling shells but mocked the sight, 
 
 Shooting across the pall of night — 
 
 A blood-red streak of fading light — 
 
 A meteor's flash — a shooting star; 
 
 Then o'er the hill-tops, weak and far, 
 
 And faint, among the hidden foes, 
 
 A little flash of light arose, 
 
 Chased by the dull explosion's tone, 
 
 And darkness met the eye alone ! 
 
34 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " The blushing morn was up again ; 
 Her voice arose from every glen, 
 
 Calling a world to life, 
 And a hundred thousand mortal men 
 
 To fierce and mortal strife. 
 The sun had scarcely touched the sky 
 When rose the waking battle's cry; 
 For, over-anxious to commence, 
 Deeming advance the best defence, 
 Both parties pushed their lines ahead. 
 With watchful eyes and cautious tread, 
 Full well supported, firm, and slow. 
 And midway met the coming foe. 
 Then up to heaven arose again 
 The frenzied yells of struggling men ! 
 Fresh troops were ranged on either side, 
 To stem the fiercest of the tide ; 
 And some, who faced the stifling showers 
 Through all the Sabbath's deaf 'ning hours. 
 Were there, unwearied, in the front. 
 Aiding to bear the heaviest brunt; 
 Full wild, in having 'scaped before, 
 To live the mad excitement o'er; 
 Pausing, with eyeballs staring wide, ' 
 On comrade fallen close beside ; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 35 
 
 Then, burning to avenge his death, 
 Rush on the foe with maniac breath. 
 And single-handed, 'mong the foes, 
 
 A moment fight — and fall — ('') 
 With triumph in the eyes that close, 
 And clenched hand, whose desperate blows 
 
 Have reared- a bleeding wall ! 
 Along the whole extended line. 
 Ere yet the dial pointed nine, 
 The rushing, thundering sound of fray 
 Eose loud and fierce as yesterday. 
 Y^t neither wave could gain an inch 
 In that despairing, deadly clinch ; 
 For Desperation fixed his post 
 Upon the flag of either host. 
 Ah ! many a gallant heart grew still. 
 Aiding to flood the swollen rill ! 
 Ah ! many a one whose arm was barred. 
 And many a shoulder silver-starred, 
 Went down to early, nameless rest. 
 As lowly as the humble breast 
 Whereon such baubles ne'er were set, 
 Who wore no sash nor epaulette. 
 Yet went with heroes battle-scarred 
 To seek their pillow, cannon-jarred, 
 
 And slept as sweet and well. 
 
36 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 And some went down whose honored names 
 The aged soldier, by the»flames 
 
 That light his hearth, shall tell ; 
 And 'neath the future battle's gale 
 Full many a soldier shall bewail 
 
 The hour when Wallace fell! 
 
 XX. 
 
 *' Upon the foeman's either flank 
 
 Both wings were sudden wheeled, 
 And upward from the river-banks 
 Came Nelson's fresh and eager ranks , 
 
 To sweep the struggling field. 
 Rushing aronnd with awful force — 
 Like blazing comets in their, course — 
 Those bristling wings came rolling round. 
 With thundering tread that shook the ground 
 And closing on the startled foe 
 
 With cold, determined steel. 
 They struck the final, fearful blow. 
 
 The battle's fate to seal! 
 While on the centre, trembling, swung 
 
 By every cannon's growl, 
 A last, fierce charge was sudden flung ! 
 And broke from every brazen tongue 
 
 A thrice redoubled howl ! 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 37 
 
 Upon the air arose their yell, 
 
 Like two opposing powers of hell ! — 
 
 The stifling smoke was black and thick, 
 
 Till breath came short, and hoarse, and quick ; 
 
 And tliickly flew the shot and fast — 
 
 Men fell like hailstones in the bl^st, 
 
 And blood ran down like water! 
 And could such deadly whirlwind last, 
 
 There soon were none to slaughter ! 
 Full short and sharp was then the light ; 
 Overwhelmed by front — by left — by right, 
 
 The baffled foe withdrew. 
 Making a half-disordered flight, 
 
 Whose speed increased and grew, 
 Till, closely pressed upon the rear, 
 
 And crowded hard by flank, 
 A wild, ungovernable fear 
 
 Broke every straining rank. 
 And fading in the far Southwest, 
 By vengeful sabres hotly pressed, 
 A roaring, rushing mass of men. 
 They rolled tumultuous back again ! 
 The battle faded from the eye, 
 And from the ear its fearful cry, 
 And darkness swept her drowsy broom 
 4 
 
38 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 Across the field of sickening gloom. 
 Where every hillock was a tomb ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " The daylight's latest gleam was fled 
 From c>iF the heaps of tliousands dead ; 
 The stars were out upon the sky, 
 Like drooping tears in heaven's eye! 
 And silence brooded o'er the spot 
 Where lately screamed the \\'hi5tling shot. 
 Dreaming of voices which were nut ! 
 Meanwhile, the gunboats all had sought 
 "Repose from battle fiercely fought; 
 And lying nigh the hushing shore, 
 They gave their prizes safely o'er ; 
 And, 'mong the rest, the bales of cotton 
 And bags of seed, well-nigh forgotten, 
 Were soon transferred to steamer's deck. 
 Receiving each a ctifferent check; 
 4nd, just as broke the sullen boom 
 Of midnight's gun across the gloom, 
 The boat swung out into the river, 
 And Pittsburg's field was gone forever I 
 Beneath the starlight's sombre gleam 
 We hurried down the shadowed stream ; 
 The puf!ing engines panted hoarse 
 
# 
 
 A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 39 
 
 Along the silent, gloom j course, 
 Awaking eclioes deep and gruff 
 Along the darkness-mantled bluff. 
 Full many a score of wounded lay 
 Around the decks in sad array ; 
 And in the cabin, every bunk 
 Contained a mangled, bleeding trunk. 
 And drank the blood that trickling sunk I 
 I heard the maimed and shattered moan — 
 I heard the frenzied wretches' groan — ^ 
 I saw the dying gasp and bleed, 
 But I was but a cotton-seed; 
 And had I brains, like those who stood 
 And gazed upon that sea of blood. 
 They must have reeled, with horror sick, 
 And eyes been filled with darkness thick. 
 When noonday's sun was streaming up 
 High o'er the bluff' 's thick-wooded top. 
 We passed Fort Henry's broken walls, 
 Shattered long erst by hostile balls. 
 We saw the muzzles ft'owning black, 
 Whose shot had torn the gunboat's deck, 
 And splintered trees that tumbled quick, 
 When flew the hail of battle thick. 
 The flaming sun had well-nigh set. 
 When, 'neath a frowning parapet, 
 
40 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 Bnstling with steel and columns blue, 
 The steamer slowly swung her to. 
 Short space was there for aught of rest 
 To catch the dubious peace, at best, 
 Which seldom for an hour can fall 
 Inside of Cairo's guarded wall; 
 Flung on with wild, unseemly haste, 
 The cotton-seed was quickly placed 
 Upon the champing, fretting train. 
 And ^swiftly whirled across the plain. . 
 Away — away, through slimy marsh, 
 Where croaking bull-frogs shouted harsh- 
 Ont — out upon the prairie's breast. 
 With lightning speed that knew no rest. 
 The bag' in which I chanced to stay 
 With some two bushels, I should say, 
 Was fated first to leave its mates, 
 • N^ow scattered far to many States. 
 By yonder station-house, whose roof 
 You plainly see, they flung it off, 
 And, scarcely pausing, hurried forth, 
 And passed from sight far in the Korth. 
 Divided soon we were again. 
 And parcelled out to various men; 
 A quart, a peck, as w^ants might be, 
 Till but a peck was left with me. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 41 
 
 And then tlie farmer brought us home, 
 And plunged us in this prairie loam ; 
 But, moistened by the April showers, 
 Warmed by the noonday's genial hours, 
 I raised my head with all my might, 
 To see again the day's clear light ; 
 I pushed aside the barriers soon, 
 And saw the sun last Thursday noon." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 '*■ Indeed!" said Corn, "your days, thus far. 
 Have savored much of strife and war ; 
 But since your travels all are o'er. 
 You're fixed, like me, to move no more ; 
 'Tis probable — and i^ery so — 
 Such scenes you never more shall know ; — 
 That henceforth, till your days shall end, 
 ^o dews but peaceful shall descend ; 
 And I congratulate you, friend. 
 That in this still and pleasant spot, 
 A happy chance hath cast your lot. 
 Also, my hearty thanks accept ; 
 Your story. Sir, full long hath kept 
 My close attention ; and I pray 
 x\n opportunity, some day. 
 The favor fully to repay. 
 4^ 
 
42 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 But see ! tlie sun is rising fast, 
 Shortening the shadows westward cast ; 
 The mystic hour, my friend, is past! 
 When next the short and happy hour ^ 
 Shall give our tongues the speaking power, 
 I've many things I wish to say, 
 And pleasantly 'twill pass away. 
 But lo! I hear the mystic knell- — 
 Till next new moon, dear Sir, farewell.-* 
 
 END OF CANTO I. 
 
€ORN. HUSKS, 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 " HiLLo, friend Cotton !" slioiited Corn, 
 
 "Wake up to g^eet the waking morn! 
 
 Your sleepy leaflets all unfold; 
 
 The sun has touched the sky with gold! 
 
 Open at once your sleepy eyes. 
 
 Or lose a glorious, glad sunrise I 
 
 The furious storm of yesterday 
 
 From all the sky has passed away; 
 
 And where the clouds hung low last night, 
 
 No single speck appears in sight. 
 
 'Tis rather cool, I frankly own; 
 
 Most so the season yet has known; 
 
 And on this side of yon fence-post, 
 
44 C O R N - H U S K S . 
 
 I tliink I see a little frost. 
 It must be cold, of course, for you, 
 Who in a warmer climate grew, 
 Where coldest nights bring only dew ; 
 But as for me, I feel quite well ; 
 This bracing air for good shall tell. 
 And liicky stars should^ have your thanks 
 For one of Nature's sportive pranks ; 
 For you have — in so cold a night — 
 At least no ears for frost to bite ! 
 But rouse you up — awake! I say, 
 Before the sunrise fades away." 
 
 11. 
 
 " I'm wide awake, and need no call ; 
 I hardly slept last night at all; 
 But I am in no mood to joke ;" 
 Gloomy and shivering, Cotton spoke. 
 ''I'm quite despondent, Sir, indeed, 
 And wish I were again a seed. 
 I fear my buds are frozen quite, 
 And ripened black instead of white. 
 Such usage, Sir, as I have had, 
 Would well beiit an Eastport shad. 
 I do not claim to be a fish, 
 And don't particularly wish 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 4:5 
 
 To meet another drenching flood, 
 Like that which last night I withstood. 
 But that in patience might be borne, 
 Although my leaves were sadly torn 
 By falling hailstones, were it all 
 The provocation could befall. 
 But this confounded pinching frost- 
 Alas! my best leaves all are lost 
 The two consuming powers between, 
 While yours, though somewhat slit, are green. 
 I do protest I'm not a stone, 
 To be so reckless tossed and thrown ; 
 I feel myself, Sir, much abused. 
 To be so rude and roughly used. 
 An observation I must make, 
 Which truth compels ; though, for your sake. 
 To hold it back I should be glad ; — 
 Your climate. Sir, is very hadP 
 
 in. 
 
 "Well, well!" said Corn, "we don't complain 
 
 Because a fierce and flooding rain 
 
 Comes down upon us now and then; — 
 
 Perhaps we'll see no such again. 
 
 Xor do we let our temper fail 
 
 For one slight dash of slitting hail 
 
4f) CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The frost, indeed, is rather tough. 
 And some excuse for answer gruff; 
 But yet 'tis quite unusual here, 
 And may not come for many a year. 
 And let me say, to ease your mind, 
 'Twill be some months before you find 
 A night, like this, till late next fall — " 
 '' I don't believe it. Sir, at all !" 
 Broke Cotton gruffly in. " I hold 
 That since the weather yet is cold, 
 And 'tis a month and more since first 
 From out the gloomy soil I burst. 
 It must be chilly all the year; 
 And every month will bring, I fear, 
 A frost like this my growth to stop. 
 And spoil — entirely spoil- — my crop. 
 I deem it best of proof, I say, 
 If on the twenty-ninth of May 
 There comes such dreadful weather, why, 
 The same may come in June, July, 
 ■. Or any other month." • 
 
 ^'JS^ot so," 
 Said Corn, " I argue not : I hnow 
 That such a thing has never been 
 This whole broad country's history in. 
 But if you ask for evidence, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 4 
 
 Just wait till Tiger leaps the fence ; 
 I've heard it said that he has seen 
 More than a dozen years grow green 
 And fade again; and he can tell, 
 For he must know the climate v/ell. 
 'Tis early yet, but he is through 
 With what the morning bids to do : 
 Coming an hour with us to pass, 
 Upon the long and silky grass. 
 Answer, old Tige, this cotton-stalk ; 
 No doubt .you Ve 'overheard his talk." 
 
 IV. 
 
 ''Weir, Sirs, I'm willing to bestow 
 
 The benefit of what I know. 
 
 At any time, on all the town ;" 
 
 Said Tiger, gravely sitting down. 
 
 " 'Tis very true, as Corn has said, 
 
 Some thirteen years have crowned my head 
 
 Experience has been my guide, 
 
 To teach the instinct given beside, 
 
 And I have gained more useful knowledge 
 
 Than Master's brother did at college. 
 
 To you, friend Cotton, let me say, 
 
 That such a storm as yesterday 
 
 May come this year, perhaps, again. 
 
48 C O R N - H U S K S . 
 
 But not so cliill as this has been. 
 
 The frost which pinched you so last night. 
 
 Although indeed but rm^y slight^ 
 
 May never come again so late, 
 
 At least in this part of the State : 
 
 In all my life it never was: 
 
 The inference your honor draws 
 
 Bat ill befits a sober face, 
 
 And still the less a serious case. 
 
 It is no proof at all, in fact ; 
 
 Besides, no leaf of yours is blacked : 
 
 You'll find yourself, by ten o'clock. 
 
 Fully recovered from the shock. 
 
 And growing faster for the shower : 
 
 Your roots will stretch with njew-found power, 
 
 And send, to re-create your blood. 
 
 The food washed downward by the flood. 
 
 'Tis very childish, Sir, in you. 
 
 To growl and make such great ado 
 
 For such a trifling, small aflair. 
 
 Which patiently you ought to bear.-' 
 
 V. 
 
 " Quite true," said Corn ; " and let me add. 
 
 Experience I too have had. 
 
 In which your welfare is concerned ; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 49 
 
 This country's features all I've learned ; 
 And, knowing better how to live, 
 Some good advice I fain would give, 
 
 If you, Sir Cotton " 
 
 "Sir! Sir Corn, 
 Your volunteered advice I spurn ! 
 What! me *Sir Cotton?' Sir, I've stood 
 An insult long which fires my blood — 
 As long as courtesy can ask. 
 And found it, too, an irksome task. 
 Sir, your advice I fling you back 
 On certain points wherein you lack.(^) 
 I wish to tell you that your, ' Sir' 
 May well be used when you refer 
 To persons of your own degree ; 
 But when you wish to speak to me, 
 I hope henceforth you will not use 
 The word whose meaning you abuse. 
 I have a title, Sir, well earned. 
 Which long ere this you should have learned." 
 
 VT. 
 
 Poor Corn, through all this fierce harangue, 
 Let all his leaves with wonder hang; 
 But when the wrathfal stalk had ceased, 
 With confidence somewhat increased, 
 6 
 
50 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 He raised respectfully each leaf, 
 And said : " Your Honor, to be brief, 
 . I ask your pardon if I err, 
 In thus addressing yon as ' Sir' ; 
 But on my word I do not know 
 The proper title to bestow; 
 And, more than that, I never knew 
 A title had been given you. 
 Pardon my ignorance, and tell — 
 If such shonld suit your Honor well — 
 Yourj proper station, place, and rank, 
 Leaving no honored title blank." 
 
 vn. 
 
 By Corn's excuse mnch mollified, 
 ■ Cotton, in softer tones, replied: 
 "My pardon. Sir I freely grant. 
 While I despise your sickly cant; 
 Yonr faculties are quite obtuse. 
 Or truth with you^'is out of use ; 
 You should have known, full long ago. 
 What all the world beside you know. 
 Because the power of human hand 
 (Which neither of us can withstand) 
 Hath plucked me fi'om my native land. 
 And planted here, where all, in sooth. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 51 
 
 Seems strange not only, but unconth — 
 Though exiled far from natural range, 
 To soils, companions, climate strange, 
 It does not follow, though thug^ tossed, 
 That my identity is lost. 
 I still a due respect may claim, 
 And treatment fitting to my name; 
 Short words, indeed, may all express: 
 King Cotton, Sir, is my address." 
 
 vm. 
 
 Eoused by the loud, defiant tone, 
 When Cotton's anger fierce had grown, 
 A score of plants had raised their head 
 To hear the words so tartly said; 
 Eager to l:now at once the cause 
 Of what attention always draws. 
 The Osage orange bended near, 
 And Tiger pricked a curious ear; 
 A wheat-field, just across the lane. 
 Stretched up its heads with mighty strain ; 
 And even the breezes paused to list. 
 Though where they sat, they only wist. 
 And when King Cotton's speech was done, 
 Dumb wonder fell a mojnent on; 
 
52 ^ CORN-HUSKS.' 
 
 Then from the listening plants about 
 
 Uprose a simultaneous shout — 
 
 A loud, derisive laugh, which shook 
 
 The leaves to every listening nook ! 
 
 The winds leaped up and whirled around, 
 
 Then prostrate fell upon the ground; 
 
 Tossing the leaves, and screaming quite, 
 
 With uncontrollable delight. 
 
 And Tiger, midst the general din, 
 
 Put on a broad and tickled grin. 
 
 Shaking his sides with laughter more 
 
 Than ever for ten years before. 
 
 And every throat in all that crowd, 
 
 E'en to the grass, laughed long and loud, 
 
 Save one — a single Eag-weed nigh. 
 
 With trunk full stout and branches high. 
 
 Who stood from Corn a short half-pace. 
 
 Wearing a long and serious face ; 
 
 And thus he spoke: "I fail to see 
 
 The point of this uproarious glee ; 
 
 'Tis but an insult foul, at best. 
 
 To him, our most distinguished guest. 
 
 The noble stranger, who hath come 
 
 To honor this our humble home; — 
 
 A barbarous act, which plainly stamps 
 
 You all a set of graceless scamps, — 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 53 
 
 A vulgar mob, Avhose humble birth 
 
 Fain scoffs at high, distinguished worth. "() 
 
 IX. 
 
 • 
 At this King Cotton's face again 
 Relaxed somewhat its proud disdain ; 
 And putting oif its injured look. 
 To grave, though kingly smiles betook, 
 And spoke: "Dear Sir, I'm glad to find 
 At least one cultivated mind. 
 Whose capabilities can stretch 
 Farther than those of yon poor wretch. 
 I think I quite appreciate 
 The polished sense of honor great 
 Which raises you above the rest, 
 Who thus maltreat a helpless guest. 
 I think I recognize in you 
 A kindred plant, although you grew 
 Among a barbarous class of weeds, 
 Of lesser minds and baser breeds — " 
 But here another bursting laugh 
 Cut off the speech's latter half; 
 And Corn, as soon as he could chase 
 The mirthful dimples from his face, 
 In tones respectful, thus began : 
 5^ 
 
54 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 ^'Asking your pardon once again, 
 
 King Cotton, let me say a word 
 
 Concerning these harangues we've heard. 
 
 This wondrous Rag-weed here, w^hose tone 
 
 Of mind and thought so suits 3'our own, 
 
 Is 'neath my notice much too far 
 
 To spend with him in wordy war 
 
 The time, provoking but abuse, 
 
 Which might be turned to better use; 
 
 For he, as all who hear me know, 
 
 Is my hereditary foe. 
 
 Jlis fathers have been outlaws here, 
 
 I well do know, for many a year; 
 
 And ere yon heavens to-night grow brown, 
 
 The farmer's hoe may cut him down. 
 
 His roots steal half the soil from me, 
 
 And check my growth no small degree ; 
 
 At best he's but a useless weed, 
 
 On others' labors made to feed, 
 
 And oftentimes I much mistrust 
 
 The devil sowed his seed at first; 
 
 But yet the shovel-plough, I know, 
 
 Ere many days shall lay him low. 
 
 But you, King Cotton, well may claim 
 
 A sober answer: in the name 
 
 Of my companions, who have set 
 
A POEM FOB THE TIMES. 55 
 
 Aside the rules of etiquette, 
 Laughing jour Honor in the face, 
 I pardon beg; I plead their case; 
 Assuming (for there is no doubt) 
 That all are sorry for the shout 
 Which from their lips unguarded burst, 
 Upon the moment's impulse first. 
 And yet, King Cotton, 'tis a 'truth 
 Which I cannot gainsay, in sooth, 
 That I myself was much surprised, 
 For which I have apologized. 
 You will remember that you came 
 A captive here, whose very name, 
 To most of us, was all unknown ; 
 Where, too, no kings we ever own; 
 S5 that 'twas scarce a crime to be 
 As ignorant as even we." 
 
 X. 
 
 "Yotir poor excuse I'll not reject; 
 
 For surely I cannot expect 
 
 A better one from such as you, 
 
 Who speak for such a barbarous crew." 
 
 So Cotton spoke. "But now, since told 
 
 The proper station which I hold, 
 
56 . COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 I trust your treatment now will be 
 Befitting one of mj degree." 
 
 XI. 
 
 . " One thing, King Cotton," Tiger said. 
 Raising an earnest, listening head; 
 " One thing, King Cotton, I would know. 
 Before this talk shall farther go. 
 I do not know that Corn, here, meant 
 To tell a lie with full intent; 
 Or whether modesty, in sooth, 
 Induced him to withhold the truth ; 
 But I have heard my master sing. 
 In times fall often, 'Cokn is King!' * 
 And since you too the title claim. 
 Holding yourself the very same. 
 Then in the name of these, my friends, 
 Who each to higher monarch bends, 
 Filling their humble spheres, aspire 
 To none than natural places higher, 
 I challenge both the proofs to bring; • 
 Which is the true and lawful king?" 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 57 
 
 xn. 
 
 Deep silence followed Tiger's word, 
 
 In which distinctly Could be heard 
 
 The silent music of the splieres, 
 
 Sounding along the eternal years! 
 
 Attention sat on all the field, 
 
 But neither spoke, though thus appealed; 
 
 And Tiger soon . continued, thus : 
 
 "Most noble Sirs, with all this fuss, 
 
 We ought to find the truth at last. 
 
 And bind the vexing matter fast. 
 
 For either claim there must be ground, — 
 
 So7neth{ng^ at least, whereon to found 
 
 A structure so august and grand, 
 
 Or else the fabric cannot stand. 
 
 And this foundation, be it true 
 
 As yonder, heaven's eternal blue. 
 
 Or basely false, like him below, 
 
 Is what just now we wish to know. 
 
 Such titles always presuppose 
 
 Great triumphs over mighty foes, 
 
 Or long descent from kingly line. 
 
 Drawing its worth from ancient mine. 
 
 And in support each claimant shall 
 
58 OOKN-HTISKS. 
 
 His records chronological 
 Produce, tliat we may judge at once 
 Which is a king, an(i which a dunce — 
 A base pretender, who would gild 
 His name without whereon to build ; 
 Claiming, with brazen face and bold, 
 A noble name and lineage old, 
 And yet a claim transparent quite, 
 Scarcely a shadow in the sight; 
 Too feeble far to even bear 
 The slightest breath of searching air. 
 King Cotton, if your royal birth 
 Hath made you monarch of the earth, 
 Produce the records to us all. 
 And let us each before you fall. 
 Or if great deeds of valor done — 
 Of battles fought and victories won. 
 Have made your name a mightier one 
 Than these, who boast but humble birth, 
 And place of usefulness on earth, — 
 Produce the proofs; or tell, at least, 
 What hath your honor so increased. 
 To you. Sir Corn, I say the same ; 
 What have you to support your claim?" 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 59 
 
 xni. 
 
 ^' My worthy friend, yoii quite forget 
 
 That I have made no claim as yet," 
 
 Said Corn. " You're quite unfair to-day, 
 
 Assuming things I did not say; 
 
 Or else you were not well awake, 
 
 And so have made a sad mistake. 
 
 But I shall not object at all. 
 
 My birth and lineage to recall; 
 
 Tradition, Sir, hath brought to me 
 
 My family, birth, and pedigree. 
 
 And though not highly known or famed, 
 
 Of birth I never am ashamed. 
 
 A duty faithful done and well. 
 
 Filling the place which us befell 
 
 From nature's hand, is all, I grant. 
 
 Which bringeth honor to a plant. ■ 
 
 But you shall know my lineage. Sir, 
 
 And Cotton's too, unless I err 
 
 In deeming it a thing of course ; 
 
 Or yet, to give it greater force, 
 
 Can have it told ; he has his choice." 
 
 Then raising high his stalwart voice, 
 
 With all his might, Corn shouted — "Ho, 
 
60 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 • Keewaydin ! hither quickly blow ! 
 Keewaydin ! hither ! here, I say, 
 And tarry not along the way! 
 Arise, and tell to all the earth 
 Mondamin's ancient, wondrons birth!" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Within his rolling, rushing car, 
 Across the prairies wide and far. 
 The l!^orthwest Wind came speeding tast, 
 Like whirling leaves before the blast ; 
 And pausing in the pleasant shade 
 The thick green Osage or^inge made. 
 And smiling such repose to find, 
 With Tiger on the grass reclined. 
 Then, for a moment's quiet rest, 
 He bent his head upon his breast. 
 To think, recalling close and well 
 The story he should shortly tell. 
 Then to the eager, waiting crowd, 
 With graceful inclination bowed. 
 And in a voice full firm and bold, 
 Yet sweet and musical, he told 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 61 
 
 %\t legend of latikmin, 
 1. 
 
 Across the plains, to ISTortliwarcl far, 
 
 Where Lake Superior's crystal waters 
 Give back, beside the Northern star, 
 
 The eyes of dark Ojib way's danghters,- 
 Wandering now, a pensive few, 
 Beside the streams their fathers knew. 
 Ere yet their stubborn eyes were given • 
 To see their nation's blackened heaven, — 
 There lay of old a pebbly strand 
 Of glistening stones and shining sand, 
 Waving in lines v/hich hardly broke, 
 Save when the storm-king's wrath. awoke ;- 
 A pebbly beach which trembled oft 
 To birch canoe in grating soft. 
 When Chiaeo's returning prow 
 Paused underneath the pine-tree's bough. 
 
 2. 
 
 The fairest youth the eye could know 
 
 In all Ojib way's mighty nation. 
 Pride of the 'village, Chiabo, 
 6 
 
62 CORN-HUSKS, 
 
 Why sunk so deep in contemplation? 
 Thy birchen vessel swings at will 
 Beneath the shadow of the hill, 
 Drawn by the eddy's ceaseless flow 
 Kound and round, with circling slow; 
 Yet Chiabo unmoving stands, 
 With paddle dropped and folded hands, 
 And heareth strains of far-away, 
 From caves where spirit-fluters play. 
 
 To Eastward, in its endless flow. 
 
 The roaring Taquamenaw rushes; 
 To West, the daylight settles low 
 
 Among the huckleberry bushes ; 
 The Northern Star has gone to sleep 
 Down in the Lake's unmeasured deep. 
 And the Great Dipper swingeth slow. 
 With basin up and handle low. 
 Lest e'en his step should break the spell 
 Which binds the one he loves so well ; 
 The forest climbs the Southern hill 
 
 To see the twilight's columns come. 
 And hushes every leaflet still, 
 
 To hark and hear his beating drum ; 
 Yet Chiabo but gazeth down 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 63 
 
 Into the waters' growing brown, 
 As if he saw a mystery there, 
 Broken by only silent stare. 
 
 4. 
 
 Amid the shadows of the wood 
 
 Which Westward fringed the foaming river, 
 A sombre figure sudden stood, 
 
 Whose lips were dumb and opened never ; 
 And where his finger pathway made 
 The birch canoe at once obeyed, 
 Pushing against the heaviest surge 
 Without a sino'le oar to ur2:e. 
 And when the semicircle traced 
 By that slow-moving hand was paced. 
 The vessel's bottom touched its range 
 Beside a wigwam quaint and strange ; 
 And Chiabo obedient stepped 
 Along the line the finger kept. 
 Then paused, and turned to feel* his heart 
 Leap to his eyes with sudden start. 
 
 5. 
 
 Beside the form another rose, 
 
 As comes the morning star in heaven 
 
64 COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 Out of the tempest's dying throqs. 
 
 To make the peace his bolts have riven 
 And thus, in measures born of dreams, 
 Her song resounded o'er the streams: 
 
 "Fast! fast! fast! 
 Till the morning's fan sweeps o'er thee ! 
 
 Fast! fast! fast! 
 Till the darkness falls before tliee ! 
 For as the morning blushes 
 
 When the sun hath found her bed, 
 Shalt thou, when glory's bushes 
 • Are circled round thy head! 
 
 n. 
 
 " Pray ! pray ! pray ! 
 Till seven long days are ended ! 
 
 Pray ! pray ! pray ! 
 Till the pride of thy heart be bended ! 
 And then shall the wondrous token 
 
 Be given in light to thee ! 
 By thee shall the seal be broken. 
 And the bounden one set free !" 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIMES. 65 
 
 And seeing nothing, Chiabo 
 
 Turned to the lodge and flung him low. 
 
 The seventh evening closed around, 
 
 And Chiabo, with wasted features, 
 Lay at full length upon the ground, 
 
 To watch the river's restless creatures; 
 When, in as swift and light canoe 
 As ever foamy pathway drew, 
 A stranger crossed the waters wide, 
 With strokes which eye and count defied. 
 Straight to the shore his bark he steered, 
 With speed increasing as it neared. 
 Till half its length the sand-line cleared, 
 Thrusting its curious prow half way 
 Where Chiabo astonished lay. 
 
 7. 
 
 The stranger stood by Chiabo, 
 
 With head erect and carriage lofty; 
 
 Yet in his eye there dwelt a glow. 
 
 Half dimmed by dew-drops shining softly 
 
 The breezes swept his silken hair 
 6* 
 
66 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 Across his neck and shoulders bare, 
 
 And waved above^ his forehead bold 
 
 His long bright plumes of green and gold, 
 
 Then whistled soft as shepherd's reeds 
 
 Among his strings of yellow beads. 
 
 Then spoke the stranger : " Chiabo, 
 
 I come a friend, and not a foe. 
 
 And jet thy hand my strength must know ; 
 
 And .here at once I challenge thee 
 
 To rise and wrestle now with me. 
 
 For 'tis decreed that who shall fast 
 
 Till seven days are fully past, 
 
 And then shall overcome in light 
 
 Mondamin's power and skill and might, 
 
 Shall burst the cloud which hangeth o'er, 
 
 That nations then shall fast no more. 
 
 Full many a hundred have I met, 
 
 And none have torn my plumes as yet — 
 
 Arise, before the sun be set !" 
 
 8. 
 
 Then Chiabo uprose and spoke : 
 
 " MoNDAMTN", be thy loins upgirded ; 
 
 My hand alone the bear has broke — 
 My foot alone tlie deer hath herded ; 
 
A POEM FOK THE- TIMES. 67 
 
 My tongue hatli never held, it still 
 At any man's unquestioned will ; 
 And, bold as tliou canst dare to be, 
 I take the challenge flung to me !" 
 
 The sun lay on the western hill ; 
 
 The moon sat on the east horizon ; 
 The river foamed and trembled still, 
 
 As roars the maddened prairie bison ; 
 But vv'hen Mondamest flung aside 
 The yellow robe he wore with pride, 
 And bared his forehead for the strife 
 With Chiabo, of life to life, 
 The river's surges hushed in awe, 
 To see the wondrous things they saw^ ; 
 And fearfully the moon withdrew. 
 Till half below the line of blue 
 Which marked the distant forest high, 
 Then paused to gaze with cautious eye. 
 
 10. 
 
 The forest reeled from Chiabo ; 
 
 His temples throbbed with furious beating; 
 And, while he strove, he could but know 
 
 With every breath his strength retreating; 
 
68 CO-RN- HUSKS. 
 
 Yet by the throat he held his foe, 
 And half to earth had crushed him low, 
 When, sinking downward by his side, 
 ", Enough ! enough !" Mondamin taied ; 
 '^Eemove thy hand!" He heard right well, 
 And, reeling backward, helpless fell. 
 
 11. 
 
 The morning wakened Chiabo, 
 
 "Weak with the struggle and the fasting, 
 A wondrous sight to him to show. 
 
 Whose life and strength were everlasting : 
 A stalk of maize above him stooped ; 
 Its golden ears with fatness drooped ; 
 And like Mondamin's plumes were seen 
 Its long, bright leaves of gold and green ; 
 And Chiabo returned to Pleaven 
 Meet thanks for this, the favor given! 
 
 XV. 
 
 His story told, and finished quite, 
 
 The E'orthwest Wind prepared for flight ; 
 
 Yet lingered still, and moved him not. 
 
 Although the morning air grew hot. 
 
 And waited, with respectful air. 
 
 To hear the powef v/hich called him there 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 69 
 
 Tlie counter-mandate speak, and say 
 The words that bid him haste av/ay ; 
 And then, obedient to the nod 
 Of Corn, he raised him from the sod, 
 And bidding each a kind ''good-day," 
 With lightning speed he whirled away. 
 The listening plants looked silent on 
 Until he far from sight had gone; 
 And so absorbed was every one. 
 They scarcely saw, till he w^as done. 
 That in the dark, rich prairie loam, 
 The farmer to his work w^as come. 
 Already, stretching o'er each swell. 
 Which like the ocean rose and fell. 
 The dark green corn arose in sight 
 In long straight rows, a foot in height. 
 And half, a dozen snn-bnrned brows 
 Sweat o'er as many shovel-ploughs 
 Or cultivators, o'er the field ; 
 And sturdy arms, that well could wield 
 The axe or plough, the pen or sw^ord, 
 Calling no human being lord. 
 Guided, the arching rows between, 
 Uprooting weeds that sought to screen. 
 Each trusty horse a boy bestrode, 
 And never king more proiidly rode ; 
 
70 COKN-HUSKS. 
 
 And never spurred and mailed kniglit 
 Kode to more honorable liglit. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The morning's labor to commence, 
 The outside row, against the fence, 
 The farmer took ; to workmen all 
 A special portion did befall; 
 Deployed some twenty rods apart, 
 They took at once a vigorous start. 
 The farmer's plough came fast along, 
 Uprooting weeds full stout and strong; 
 And in the corner, where the corn 
 Had suffered so upon the morn 
 When first it sought the upper air. 
 And called for Tiger's watchful care, 
 Where many a weed 'gan stout to creep, 
 The farmer plunged the plough full deep. 
 And he, the stalk so singly left. 
 Trembled lest he be careless cleft ; 
 While even Tige his head upraised 
 With deep concern, and anxious gazed ; 
 Cotton as well ; but his concern 
 Took a decided different turn. 
 ''John," said the farmer, "just look there! 
 That is a nice stalk, I declare ! 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 71 
 
 One that was missed, John, when the hens 
 Last spring took up the hills by tens. 
 Be careful that your horse don't step 
 Upon that stalk — we'll have it kept 
 Standing alone, 'twill grow full stout; 
 But that big weed must be plucked out." 
 
 xvn. 
 
 A moment more, and that stout hoof 
 Had been too late for rein's reproof; 
 But, cautioned thus, John pulled his rein 
 With sidelong pull and steady strain ; 
 And barely brushing leaves dew-wet. 
 That heavy hoof beyond was set. 
 And crushing branches, leaves, and trunk, * 
 Full on the boasting Rag-weed sunk. 
 The plough, which quickly followed round, 
 Wrenched every rootlet from the ground, 
 And far along the fence went on. 
 Leaving it bleeding there alone. 
 
 xvm. 
 
 Astounded by the sudden stroke, 
 No one, for several moments, spoke ; 
 Corn, first of all, the silence broke : 
 "My friends, yet once again you see 
 
72 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 How watchful care lias rescued me 
 From dire destruction's open jaws, 
 Constrained by Fate, ere closed, to pause. 
 Yet little did "I dream, indeed. 
 When yonder crushed and mangled weed 
 Put on such proud and lofty style, 
 To utter insults mean and vile, 
 That vengeance, ere a half an hour, 
 Should smite him with such awful power. 
 King Cotton, see the dreadful fate 
 Of him you deemed a worthy mate. 
 You now mil see, I trust, full plain. 
 That braggart talk and boastings vain 
 Make not the plant — make not the man, 
 Which only sterling merit can. 
 And only has, since time began." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 '^ Your sermonizing all is lost," 
 Said Cotton, as his leaves he tossed 
 With haughty pride ; " I've surely heard 
 No single thought, and scarce a word. 
 Yon barbarous act scarce leaveth aught 
 For single moment's other thought. 
 Your principles of truth sublime, 
 Commencino; with commencino; time. 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 73 
 
 Are not the half as much to me 
 
 As yonder shattered plant I see. 
 
 The Fates, I doubt not, meant for you 
 
 The hoof which cut him through and through. 
 
 And were it not for sudden start — " 
 
 '' I pray you take it not to heart," 
 
 Corn interrupted, " since 'tis him 
 
 Instead of me, rent limb from limb. 
 
 I will not quarrel as to fate — 
 
 My danger, for a time, was great ; 
 
 A victim near, as you may guess, 
 
 To John's eternal carelessness — 
 
 A quality which always stood 
 
 As if deep-rooted in his blood. 
 
 Why, in the husking, but last year. 
 
 He broke in two my brother ear — 
 
 A monstrous shame, I do declare, 
 
 For it was long, and bright, and fair. 
 
 I hardly think he'll ever learn — " 
 
 And Cotton cut him oif in turn : 
 
 '•I do not care to hear you tell 
 
 Your silly tales of dangers fell 
 
 You have escaped, or hope to 'scape; 
 
 My wants. Sir, take a different shape. 
 
 If possible, I want some rest 
 
 From endless talk, and somewhat less 
 
74 COSN- HUSKS. 
 
 lu quantity, or lighter shade, 
 Of egotism and gasconade." 
 
 XX. 
 
 " I stand corrected," Corn replied ; 
 '' There is, indeed, enough beside 
 To claim- our strict attention now, 
 And to your word I humbly bow. 
 Before our fleeting hour shall wane. 
 It might be well to turn again 
 To the main question now in hand : 
 Your lineage, King, we now, demand." 
 " Demand !" said Cotton, nothing loath 
 For such excuse for growing wroth, 
 And thus concealing what he would 
 Not choose to tell — e'en if he co^ild — 
 " Demand ! You must be lacking brains ; 
 You'll have your trouble for your pains. 
 I do not choose to be coerced 
 By such as you; none other durst 
 So insolently make demand 
 Of me, who rather should command. 
 I" ve made no promise yet, to-day. 
 And nothing further have to say." 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 75 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A moment Corn contemptnons looked, 
 
 As if sucli words lie hardly brooked ; 
 
 And then, relaxing all his face, 
 
 Each feature sought its usual place; 
 
 And raising high his voice again 
 
 To every living thing but men, 
 
 He shouted : " Ho, ye tribes of earth ! 
 
 Ho, all that have material birth! 
 
 Ye waters, winds, and living things, 
 
 Of darting hoof and flapping wings! 
 
 Ye plants and trees, which draw yonr life 
 
 From clods with subtile forces rife ! 
 
 Whichever one that knoweth well 
 
 The birth of Cotton, and can tell 
 
 The story true, and fear not fail, 
 
 Arise, and tell the wondrous tale !" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A blade of wheat, which chance had sown. 
 Protected by the hedge had grown ; — 
 For even thoif^h in the lane, the cows 
 Had been unable quite to browse 
 So close beside the thorny limb ; — 
 Uprose the wheat-stalk, tall and slim, 
 
76 coRN-nusKs. 
 
 And in a slight and feeble tone 
 
 (For snn had never on him shone), 
 
 He spoke: ''Dear Sirs, I've waited ](»ng 
 
 To hear some voice, than mine more strong, 
 
 Eespond to Corn's most urgent call, 
 
 And yet no answer hear at all. 
 
 As for myself, I'm very weak, 
 
 And find it difficult to speak; 
 
 And should I try the arduous task, 
 
 Full great indulgence I should ask; 
 
 And sorry told 'twould be, at best — " 
 
 "I pray you, set your heart at rest 
 
 Upon that score," said Corn ; " your state, 
 
 I trust, we well appreciate ; 
 
 We will assume — for see we can't — 
 
 That you're a very comely plant ; 
 
 For supposition still must bring 
 
 A proper state to every thing. 
 
 Till certain proof shall set the lie, 
 
 And fling the tattered mantle by. 
 
 Full great respect. Sir, you may claim. 
 
 For long we've known your honored name. 
 
 But if you know whereof yoTi ask. 
 
 On you will fall the honored task 
 
 To tell to us the famous birth 
 
 Of him who claims to rule the earth." 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 77 
 
 xxni. 
 
 " Well, then," said Wheat, " at least I'll try ; 
 
 In that none can do more than I. 
 
 Preserved within our family line 
 
 From ancient, immemorial time, 
 
 Has been an old tradition, Sir, 
 
 To which your Honor I refer, — 
 
 TelKng not only how ourselves 
 
 First found a place on history's shelves, 
 
 But also how began to be 
 
 Yon King, whose topmost leaf I see. 
 
 I've often heard my father tell 
 
 The tale, and recollect it well; 
 
 And begging pardon in advance 
 
 For all the errors I shall chance 
 
 To make in proper use of words, 
 
 I'll tell the story as 'twas heard : 
 
 '' ®!)e f tgcnb of |ling |laiitmL(') 
 
 "In the old, primeval ages, 
 Ere the tribes of men were scattered 
 By the mandate of Jehovah " 
 From the mighty Tower of Babel, 
 O'er the sweeping plains of Shinar, 
 7- 
 
» CORN- HUSKS. 
 
 Bj the winding, wide Euphrates, 
 Through the forests round ahout him, 
 E'imrod roamed, a mighty hunter. 
 
 " Mighty man of valor was he, 
 Lithe and strong as how hent backward. 
 'None could run as fast as he could, 
 None could shoot as straight as he could, 
 None could swim as far as he could,' 
 None could match the mighty Nimrod. 
 
 " So his fame afar was sounded 
 'Mong the sons of Shem and Japheth, 
 'Mong the fast increasing nations, 
 Spreading Eastward — spreading Westward, 
 Spreading fast in all directions ; 
 And they made the mighty Nimrod 
 King and ruler of the nations ; — 
 Looking up to him for counsel. 
 Bowing to his skill and knowledge, 
 Looking upward to his valor, 
 To his strength and fearless courage, 
 For protection and for safety. 
 
 '' Once, when Nimrod's bow was weary, 
 Far among the w^ilds of Edom, 
 Resting from tlie easy slaughter, 
 To his tent within the forest, 
 To his hut of broken branches 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIIVJES. 79 
 
 Where lie passed the hunting season, 
 Came a swift and tireless runner, 
 Bearing grave, important tidings, — 
 Bearing tidings unto ISTimrod. 
 
 " ' Kise, O Nimrod !' said the runner, 
 ' For the nations all are calling ! 
 Take jour trusty spear and javelin. 
 Take your deadly bow and arrows ; 
 Rise you up and come fiill quickly, — 
 Come to save the troubled nations !' 
 
 " Then upspoke the mighty Nimrod : 
 ' Swift and fleet and tireless runner, 
 Wherefore do the nations call me ; 
 Wherefore call on me for succor ? 
 Have I not subdued the lion, 
 Prowding by the muddy Tigris, — 
 Dared and met and beat him often. 
 Chased him with triumphant shoutings, 
 As he driveth sheep before him? 
 Have I not o'ercome the tiger, 
 Far in India's endless jungles, — 
 Watched him in his crafty w^indings, 
 And destroyed him with my valor? 
 Wherefore then do nations call me V 
 
 " ' O great Nimrod !' said the runner, 
 ' There is come an evil spirit. 
 
80 COKN-HIJSKS. 
 
 Come a mighty fiend of evil 
 'Mong the sons of men to Eastward, 
 Vexing them and plaguing sorely. 
 Oft he Cometh like the serpent, 
 Coming when no eye is watching, 
 Coming to disturb the nations 
 With his wiles and artifices. 
 Setting son against the father, 
 Setting brother 'gainst his brother. 
 All the sons of men are troubled 
 By the crafty evil spirit ; . 
 Weary of the endless quarrels 
 Which he hatcheth up among them. 
 And they call on you to save them 
 From the malice of King Kau-ton.' 
 
 " And then Nimrod answered only, 
 'E-un you back and tell the nations 
 Nimrod soon will come and slay him, — 
 Come and slay the fierce King Kau-ton.' 
 
 " On the morrow Mmrod journeyed 
 Eastward to the. plains of Shinar, 
 And the people hailed with gladness, 
 Hailed Vvdth shouts of joy his coming. 
 But King Kau-ton fled him northward 
 Towards the mountains of Caucasus, 
 Closely followed up by Nimrod, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 81 
 
 With a fierce and hot pursuing, 
 
 " Yery crafty was King Kau-ton, 
 Full of wiles and snares and cunning, 
 For he wore two winning faces, 
 Looking Eastward — looking Westward, 
 Coming oft between two brethren, 
 Looking upon each with smiling, 
 Whispering vaguely of the other 
 Clouded words and dark suspicions. 
 Poisoning each against the other. 
 
 '' Arrant coward was King Kan-ton ; 
 Four swift legs he had to run with, 
 And he used them well and often ; 
 Four long arms he had, moreover, 
 Four quick hands and twenty fingers. 
 But they never sped an arrow, 
 l!^ever grappled in the conflict. 
 Two swift tongues he had, and famous ; 
 Kever wanted they for using, 
 Never moment were they idle, 
 With his snares or with his boastings. 
 "Ten long days did Nimrod follow, 
 And King Kau-ton still retreated, 
 Just in sight and looking backward, 
 ISTever turning back on ISTimrod, 
 Ever keeping face turned to him; 
 
82 CO EN -HUSKS. 
 
 Scoffing mTich, and loudly shouting, 
 
 ' Come, presumptuous fool, and take me ! 
 
 Come, thou man of straw, and take me !' 
 
 '' On the tenth day, when the twilight 
 O'er the sky had hung its curtain, 
 Nimrod saw the evil spirit, 
 Which from sight short time had hid him, 
 Sitting 'mong the rocks and boulders. 
 Covered thick with moss and bushes, 
 By the mouth of cavern gloomy. 
 Dark and fearful looked the prospect ; 
 Deadly vales and foaming torrents 
 Parted Nimrod from King Kau-ton. 
 
 " Loudly shouted then King Kau-ton : 
 ' Ho, great Nimrod ! I defy thee ! 
 With thy might I do despise thee ! 
 • Come and take me with thy valor; 
 Come, thou coward loon, and take me!' 
 
 " Coolly •IS'imrod made him answer : 
 ' On the morrow, great King Kau-ton, 
 When the sun comes up in eastward, 
 I will come across the torrents, 
 I will pass the shadowed valleys, 
 I will scale the rocks that hide you, 
 I will shoot you — I will drive you 
 From your fastness in the mountains. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 83 
 
 From your dark and gloomy -cavern ; 
 I will slay yon with my javelin, 
 And bear back your head in triumph. 
 See ! the darkness cometh quickly ! 
 Rest as calm as I till morning; 
 Lo ! your days are almost numbered !' 
 
 " Then he laid him down to sluiliber. 
 On the rocky ground he laid him, 
 While King Kau-ton loudly shouted, 
 Leaped and danced and laughed and shouted : 
 ' Ha ! ha ! Nimrod, come and take me I 
 Come, thou man of straw, and take me !' 
 
 " Soundly slept the mighty Nimrod, 
 With his bow and arrows by him, 
 With his hand upon his javelin, 
 Till the old moon, rising slowly, 
 Scarce an hour before the day-break, 
 Thrust her red horns, slow and fearful. 
 O'er the dark horizon eastward. 
 Like the antelope, to listen 
 If a wary foe be watching ; 
 Then he roused him up from slumber, 
 
 "First he broke a branch of White Ashji'g) 
 Tliick with leaves and twigs he broke it. 
 And with steps full slow and cautious, • 
 With the Ash-branch in his left hand. 
 
84 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 In his right hand all his weapons, 
 Pushed he resolutely forward 
 Toward the cavern of King Kan-ton. 
 He had passed ftdl half the distance, 
 When a dull and heavy vapor, 
 Drowsy, deadly, stupefying, 
 Smote at once upon his nostrils ; 
 And he saw a serpent lurking 
 In the thicket by the pathway. 
 Dark and huge among the shadows, 
 Breathing death around about him, 
 Coiled to spring on him that passed him. 
 
 " Quickly ]^imrod drew an arrow, 
 Dropped upon his knee and shot him, — 
 In his monstrous neck he shot him. 
 Then he rushed like lightning forward, 
 With the Ash-branch swinging round him ; 
 Round and round his head he w^aved it. 
 And the serpent, in his writhings, 
 Shrunk away and dared not touch him, 
 And •with javelin sharp he pierced him, — 
 Laid him dead among the bushes. 
 
 " Then he stripped his garments quickly. 
 Stuffed them well with leaves and branches. 
 Laid them on the ground face downwards. 
 Like to Nimrod dead or sleeping ; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES- 85 
 
 Then within the thicket hid him. 
 
 Waiting for the coming morning. 
 
 "When the day began to glimmer 
 In the east, uprose King Kau-ton, 
 Rubbed his eyes and gazed him downward 
 Through the misty morning twilight, 
 And he saw the figure lying, — 
 Saw the outstretched form of Mmrod 
 Dead or sleeping in the pathway. 
 
 "And he laughed ^vith exultation. 
 Saying, ' Ho ! my wiles have caught him f 
 Ho! my snares have caught the hunter I 
 I will take a stone and kill him, 
 If he be not dead already.' 
 
 " So, with stone full sharp and jagged 
 In his hand, he crept him forward. 
 He had well-nigh reached the figure, 
 He had raised the stone to crush it, 
 When, from out the neighboring thicket, 
 Quick as thought an arrow darted, 
 Shot, and pierced him in the bosom ! 
 
 " With a howl of pain and terror 
 Down he sank, and Nimrod darted 
 Close behind the fatal arrow; 
 Through the air he flung his javelin. 
 In King Kau-ton's heart he sunk it ! 
 
86 COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 And the fiend, with fierce grimaces, 
 
 Shrieked, ' O Nimrod ! yon have smote me ! 
 
 "YoTi have killed me — I am dying, 
 
 But in death I win the conflict, — 
 
 Yietory shall be mine in dying! 
 
 Lo! I yet shall come to haunt you; 
 
 Lo ! the sons of men shall know me ; 
 
 Mine shall be a ceaseless triumph 
 
 Through the long and coming ages ! 
 
 Ho ! great Nimrod, I defy thee ! 
 
 Victory yet is mine in dying!' 
 
 Thus he shrieked, and gasped, and perished. 
 
 "Then great Nimrod cut his head off, 
 Bore it home with great rejoicing. 
 On the self-same arrow bore it 
 Which had leaped and found his bosom. 
 Loud and long the people cheered him 
 When he bore his trophy homeward, 
 And w^ith songs and plays and dances. 
 Gave a feast to honor Nimrod. 
 
 "Then King Kau-ton's head they buried^ 
 For the stench thereof grew fearful. 
 And the arrow stuck beside it 
 In the ground, to warn all people 
 Not to dig therein forever. 
 But behold! ere many mornings, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 87 
 
 All the arrow's feathers lengthened, 
 Some to leaves, and others bristled 
 Into spears, and all their colors 
 Changed to green, and then to yellow, 
 Rich and ripe, and lo! a Wheat-stalk, 
 With its hard and mealy berries. 
 Stood before the wondering people ! 
 "And from out the soil, enriched 
 Bv the head in earth deep rotting, 
 Bm'st a shoot of green *full quickly, 
 Stretching up into the sunlight. 
 And when Kimrod came to view it, 
 Came to see the wonder growing, 
 Lo ! his eyes beheld King Cotton ! 
 Raised again to plague the nations 
 With his wiles and artifices. 
 With his boastings and his cunning, 
 •Setting children 'gainst their father, 
 Setting brother 'gainst his brother!" 
 
 END OP CANTO U. 
 
CORN-HUSKS 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 The drowsy dayliglit's sleepy eye 
 Grew red upon the Eastern sky, 
 Creeping, with lazy step and slow, 
 From out the prairie-grass below. 
 The herd upon the distant hill, 
 Where nature held dominion still, 
 Arose and shook the tinkling bell, 
 And heard an echo from each swell. 
 The murmured hum of waking life 
 Bespoke another day of strife ; 
 And, shrieking, whirled across the plain, 
 Came down the earlv northern train.. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 89 
 
 n. 
 
 Housed by the loud and bellowed call 
 Wliieli waked the village sleepers all, 
 And called from out the depot's door 
 Of travellers' heads, perhaps, a score, 
 Corn shook himself with sudden start, 
 And forced his sleepy lids apart ; 
 And, wondering at the drowsy power 
 Which held him 'yond the usual hour, 
 He bowed to greet the rising sun, 
 As his forefathers e'er had done. 
 He saw, and noted as it passed, 
 The golden light the morning cast, 
 Streaming in glory o'er the plain, 
 And on the fields of yellow grain ; 
 Then turning, with triumphant look, 
 To see the feathery showers shook 
 By passing breezes from the corn, 
 Like incense to the breathing morn! 
 
 III. 
 
 Right well might Pride all others chase, 
 And undisputed mould his face ! 
 Eight well might Pleasure liglit his eyes, 
 As morning lights her sombre skies! 
 . 8* ^ 
 
90 C O R N - H U S K S . 
 
 For, stretched in variegated hues 
 
 O'er rolling s^Yells and hollowed "slues," 
 
 Till hills and rows promiscuous mixed, 
 
 Upon the eye no outline fixed. 
 
 The cornfield lav ; till wearied eye 
 
 Its distant bound could scarce descry. 
 
 Some million nodding ])]umes were there, 
 
 Upraised and floating in the air. 
 
 And each bright tassel crowned a stalk. 
 
 Beneath whose shade a man might walk 
 
 And touch not, unless hand lie raise, 
 
 The silk which spoke the growing maize. 
 
 Across the railroad's bright, straight track 
 
 The same green sea was mirrored back ; 
 
 The hedge or fence which bounded one, 
 
 But marked another field begun. 
 
 And, dotted down like isles between, 
 
 Were lighter spots of prairie green, 
 
 Or yellow fields of ripened wheat, 
 
 Where skimmed the chasing shadows fleet ; 
 
 And here and there — though " few and far 
 
 Between," as angels' visits are — 
 
 A little field of cotton reared 
 
 Its stunted growth, and cautious peered. 
 
 As though it scarcely felt at home 
 
 Among the sons of prairie loam, i 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 91 
 
 Or cried against the hand unskilled 
 Which guessed its waj, and careless tilled. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Meantime had fallen a wondrous change — 
 The old, jet ever new and strange — 
 A transformation great had passed 
 Across our friends since looked we last. 
 To such extent had Cotton grown, 
 His person would be scarcely known ; 
 A want of care ht could not claim. 
 And in his stature proved tlie same. 
 The hedge would struggle now in vain 
 To bar the world beyond the lane 
 From eyes that swept across its top. 
 With scarce a bit of stretching up. 
 And Corn had grown so wondrous tall, 
 Twelve feet would barely measure all ; 
 His leaves would match a yard-stick well, ' 
 When straight the curve in whic^h they fell ; 
 And undisturbed by hills about, 
 Growdng full free, and thick, and stout. 
 Five growing ears were silking out ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Aiong the liedge, with measured trot, 
 Old Tiger sudden neared the spot, — ■ 
 
92 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The hanging corn-leaves brushed aside, 
 
 And spurned the grass with lengthy stride, 
 
 To pay a call he did not owe, 
 
 Yet chose to make ; and, bowing low 
 
 To each, he stretched him on the grass. 
 
 Where leisure hours he loved to pass ; 
 
 And when his shaggy sides and breast 
 
 Had sunk to comfortable rest, 
 
 With heavy paws exactly placed 
 
 Where perfect ease position traced, 
 
 He smiled and bowed to each again, 
 
 And thus, in friendly terms, began : 
 
 '' Good-morning, friends ; I'm glad, indeed. 
 
 To see such pleasantness decreed ; 
 
 The weather's very fine ; in fact. 
 
 The season scarcely could react 
 
 The drama of the past few weeks, 
 
 And show no more unwelcome streaks. 
 
 Full warm — ^but not excessive so, 
 
 For yon sun-loving plants to grow ; 
 
 A plague to animals like us 
 
 Indeed, but even better thus 
 
 For you, King Cotton, who, I trust, 
 
 To-day might gnaw contentment's crust. 
 
 There's nothing much awry or wrong ; - 
 
 The sun is high, and hot, and strong ; 
 
A POEM FOK -THE TIMES. 93 
 
 The nights are moist with pleasant dew, 
 The breezes soft, and heavens bhie; 
 No ' pinching frosts' nor ' floods of rain,' 
 What now can cause you to complain?" 
 
 VI. 
 
 " I've no complaints to make to-day," 
 The King addressed began to say; 
 "I'm growing reconciled somewhat 
 To evils I can temper not ; 
 A kind of -forced contentment. Sir; 
 He stands, you know, who cannot stir. 
 From out this prairie soil I draw 
 The life I must j I yield to law, 
 Which leaves to me no right of choice, 
 And scarcely a protesting voice. 
 Yet all the time, as well you know 
 (For vain deceit I scorn to show), 
 I do abhor this region all. 
 And would, if could I, break its thrall ; 
 A captive. Sir, must bear his lot 
 As best he may, and murmur not." 
 
94 CORN- HUSKS. 
 
 vn. 
 
 " Quite true, indeed, most noble King,- 
 It half disarms misfortune's sting," 
 Corn, in respectful tones, observed: 
 "That noble motto oft hath nerved 
 The world's great heroes to upbear, 
 And ne'er succumb to weak despair, 
 Because, forsooth, they sometime found 
 Their projects shattered on the ground, 
 And they a moment sunk below 
 Progression's tidal ebb and flow. 
 But, pardon 1 'tis not my design ^ 
 
 To give you precepts, *line on line,' 
 Nor yet a sermon noAv to preach: 
 There is another way to teach. 
 Your notice I would beg to call 
 To yonder wheat-field's farther wall. 
 Already, clattering on my ear. 
 The eager, warning cry I hear; 
 Your eyes to-day a sight may see 
 They never did by Tennessee : 
 A triumph of these modern days. 
 To which I call your earnest gaze ; 
 A thing peculiarly impressed 
 Upon the great and growing West; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 96 
 
 An institution first, foremost, 
 
 To mark the country which we boast." 
 
 vm. 
 
 Along the fence, with hurried click, 
 And clattering strokes full sharp and quick, 
 The trusty old McCormick came. 
 Sweeping as sweeps the prairie flame. 
 The eager reel came whirling fast, 
 Bending the wheat as bends the blast; 
 Below, the leaping sickle plied 
 The tireless jaws unsatisfied. 
 And shouted loud its joyous strain, 
 To grip the meekly bowing grain. 
 The raker's hands were busied well 
 To grasp the heavy waves which fell, 
 And scarce could pause to wipe the sweat 
 Like dew on brows and temples set. 
 With feet firm fixed, and rake full strong. 
 The heavy sheaves he steady flung ; 
 And well it called for all his strength ; 
 A bundle marked each rake-stale's length. 
 With quick, firm step, unneeding rod, 
 The yielding ground the horses trod, 
 And round the corners nicely turned. 
 
96 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 With quick exactness perfect learned, 
 And hardly changed the steady strain 
 The farmer held on each stont rein. 
 Behind came half a score of hands, 
 Well skilled to form the twisted bands, 
 With fingers lithe that twirled with zest, 
 While heavy knee a moment pressed, 
 And brawny arms that flung aside 
 The heavy sheaf so quickly tied. 
 A jug of clear cold water drowned 
 The thirst which parched at every round. 
 Replenished oft by John, who lay 
 Beneath the hedge-shade nigh all day, 
 Lazily shelling in his hand 
 The heads of wheat which chanced to stand 
 Within his reach; then out w^ould blow 
 The chaif, and chew the morsel slow. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Long Corn looked on with serious face, 
 To mark the reaper's coming pace, 
 While perfect silence filled the place ; 
 And then, with slow, majestic wave. 
 His tasselled head a signal gave ; 
 And all his million brethren nigh, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 97 
 
 Of creeping vine or colnmn high — 
 The countless shrubs that formed the hedge, 
 And grass-spears lining all its edge — 
 The dark green oats, but half revealed 
 Beyond the narrow cotton-held — 
 The millet and Hungarian grass, 
 And all the garden's countless class. 
 Burst forth at once, in tones that rang 
 Like tinkling water-droj)s, and sang : 
 
 *' The harvest is ripened ! 
 
 The sickle is whet ! 
 The lord of the harvest 
 
 Hath service to let! 
 The wheat-stalk is yellow, 
 
 And bowed is the ear! 
 The reapers are marshalled — 
 
 The binders appear! 
 
 2. 
 
 *' The pride of the prairie — 
 
 The pet of the vale — 
 The Kight Hand of nations, 
 
 Whose strength shall not fail — 
 The wheat shall be garnered, 
 9 
 
98 00EN-HU8KS. 
 
 The joy of us all ! 
 The soonest to ripen — 
 The soonest to fall I 
 
 3. 
 
 " The harvest is ripened I 
 
 Unmurmuring, now, 
 To meet the sharp sickle 
 
 Our brother must how! 
 Hurrah for our brother I 
 
 No sigh of regret! 
 His mission is finished — 
 
 The sickle is whet !" 
 
 X. 
 
 ** It seems, King Cotton," Tiger said, 
 "You do not sing." 
 
 "Not I, indeed; 
 I've no particular desire 
 To laud yon braggart upstart higher. 
 There's one good reason, and I've more: 
 I never heard the song before; 
 Have you?" 
 
 " I have, a dozen times." 
 " Well — well ! that string of staggering rhymes 
 Must be a wondrous favorite here!" 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 99 
 
 "Quite true; we sing it every year. 
 
 That harvest-song is older far 
 
 Than I, or any of us are." 
 
 " But why, King Cotton," uttered Corn, 
 
 "Why pricked so long by envy's thorn? 
 
 Yon wheat-iield's course is nearly run — 
 
 'Twill lie fall low at set of sun ; 
 
 Why pardon not the errors done?" 
 
 "Well, Sir, I cannot all forget 
 
 The insult memory treasures yet, — 
 
 The fiction, false and base as Hell, 
 
 That from its lips unblushing fell." 
 
 " But," Tiger said, " you quite forget 
 
 Our approbation is not set 
 
 Upon its story, which is new. 
 
 And not decided yet as time ; 
 
 We've not the time to search it out : 
 
 Meantime, we're much inclined to doubt — " 
 
 (Here Tiger slyly winked at Corn !) 
 
 " That Cotton was so basely born. 
 
 And for your comfort I may add 
 
 (For then a chance to see I had 
 
 Which you had not, and therefore know), 
 
 The stalk which scandalized you so 
 
 Was rooted up a week ago. 
 
 I saw him lying torn and dead, 
 
100 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 Withered beneath the cattle's tread — 
 
 Half buried in the choking dust — 
 
 A retribution swift and just. 
 
 But this unpleasant subject now 
 
 To other, greater themes shall bow; 
 
 I move you that you tell, to-day, 
 
 Of all those regions far away 
 
 Where Corn and I have never been, 
 
 And know not of; also, wherein 
 
 You rule with power, which bids you claim 
 
 A kingly rank and kingly name. 
 
 What say you, Cornf 
 
 "I quite agree 
 To do the same as soon's may be ; 
 King Cotton's deeds I fain would hear, 
 Whereon a throne he seeks to rear; 
 Although most likely it will fill 
 The bare half-hour remaining still, 
 Another's coming, and I'll do 
 My best, Sir, to enlighten you." 
 
 XI. 
 
 "Well, Sirs — " and Cotton bowed to each, 
 To introduce his spreading speech. 
 And putting on the pompous brogue 
 And nasal twang just now in vogue, — 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 101 
 
 *' Well, Sirs, I can't object at all 
 
 To make reply to such a call ; 
 
 I trust to ever ready stand 
 
 At any time — in any land — 
 
 To fearlessly defend my name, 
 
 When envious foes shall dare defame. 
 
 Though held, myself^ a captive here, 
 
 To claim my rights I shall not fear, 
 
 Nor ever cease to advocate 
 
 The mighty power I personate — 
 
 Tlie power which rules the very ground 
 
 WTiere I, by freak of fate, am bound. 
 
 XII. 
 
 '' Long years ago — I cannot say 
 How many suns have passed away, 
 Pausing upon the wintry sky 
 
 A moment, ere they set, 
 To see the drop of ink grow dry 
 
 Which history's pen had wet ; 
 The number which have passed since then 
 Are writ in calendars of men. 
 Which you and I shall never read, 
 And little care to know or heed ; 
 But it was long, full long ago — 
 That much beyond dispute we know — 
 9* 
 
102 CORN-HU8K8. 
 
 That Cotton plunged liim in the wave 
 
 And swam the waters bkie, 
 To dig his olden kingdom's grave, 
 
 And build thereon a new. 
 Through storm and flood, and ocean's roar, 
 My fathers sought this distant shore, 
 Led by a vague, uncertain dream 
 Of future glory, which should beam 
 Upon this stern, forbidding coast, 
 Which hath become creation's boast. 
 The dead old world was flung aside : 
 King Cotton sought a noble bride ; 
 His seed recoiled, and loathed the earth 
 Which gave but narrow empires birth ; 
 He longed to rule the earth alone ; 
 Andj^ rending chains around him thrown. 
 He plunged him in the western sea 
 
 To find the scope he sought — 
 He touched the land — he shouted free — 
 
 He sought — he found — but what ? 
 
 xni. 
 
 " An endless stretch of forests old ! 
 Through scores of miles and leagues untold 
 The mighty continent was spread, 
 Resounding naught but savage tread. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 103 
 
 The sandy shores gave only back 
 
 The wandering Indian's lonely track; 
 
 The wooded hills, that watched the streams, 
 
 Heard naught but whirling eagle's screams; 
 
 Saw naught but heaving flood below, 
 
 Unrippled in its mighty flow, 
 
 Save but by floating birch canoe, 
 
 Or snags half sunken, half in view, 
 
 Whose place the alligator knew. 
 
 The wild duck skimmed the silent lake. 
 
 And screamed througli all the reedy brake ; 
 
 The wilderness dominion held, 
 
 And knew no Ibeman's name ; 
 The storm-wind's mighty power it quelled. 
 
 And bid its howl be tame! 
 The mighty ocean lashed the shore, 
 Then paused to hear its echoed roar 
 Come back, with deep and sullen sound. 
 From woods where silence reigned profound. 
 From sea to sea a vast unknown, 
 Bv desolation trod alone ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 '' To-day, the eye which sweeps across, 
 
 Beholding either ocean toss. 
 
 Takes in the noblest, grandest view 
 
104 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The face of earth can yield 
 Beneath the tent of heaven blue, 
 
 And sweeps the proudest field ! 
 It sees a nation which has yet 
 ♦No rival star in heaven set ; 
 Standing a lone and mighty one, 
 Without a peer beneath the sun. 
 Ten thousand miles of ocean coast 
 Beat back the waters' baffled host. 
 And mighty cities stand like doors, 
 Through which the wealth of ocean pours ; — 
 Cities that into life have sprung 
 At but a word from Cotton's tongue. 
 A thousand steamboats proudly ride 
 Its sweeping rivers, deep and wide. 
 Waking the shores that silent slept 
 Till Cotton's wand across them sw^ept. 
 And twenty thousand miles — and more — 
 
 Of iron track are flung 
 Upon the hills, to bind the shore 
 
 To empires vast and young. 
 At Cotton's call uprose they all, 
 And each with him shall stand or fall ; 
 Each fall to dust, if fall it must, 
 When Cotton bends to fortune's gust I 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 105 
 
 XV. 
 
 " From Maine to Texas, scarcely broke 
 
 By weak pretender's feeble croak, 
 
 His kingdoili's snbtile chains are spread 
 
 As light and thin as spider's thread, 
 
 Yet with a strength which well can make 
 
 The stoutest nations sudden quake. 
 
 Let but King Cotton raise his hand, 
 
 And tighten up one silken band. 
 
 And Lowell's factories shriek with pain — 
 
 Yet, if he hold it, shriek in vain! 
 
 The nation's hamlet most remote 
 
 Hears and gives back the helpless note, 
 
 And deadened Commerc*e furls the sail 
 
 That idly flaps in ruin's gale. 
 
 Let but King Cotton set him down 
 
 Within his halls, and surly frown, 
 
 And even across the sea there comes. 
 
 From many a million suffering homes, 
 
 A cry for bread no power can hush — 
 
 'No tyrant's bayonets can crush. 
 
 A million spindles idly pause, 
 
 Held fast by trade's almighty laws, 
 
 Loosing rebellion from his chain, 
 
 With famine following in his train. 
 
106 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The old world's tottering thrones may bear 
 Long years of desolating war ; — 
 A hundred Bonapartes may rise. 
 Shake with their tread the earth and skies, 
 And still as low in darkness set, 
 Leaving its sceptres mighty yet, 
 With scarce a vestige of the flame 
 Which built them each a demon name;— 
 But let King Cotton raise in power 
 His golden sceptre for an hour, 
 And blood-red Anarchy leaps out, 
 With flaming torch and maddened shout, 
 Loosing a thousand starving hordes 
 Whose ears are deaf — whose tongues are swords- 
 Flooding the streams with human gore 
 Which smiled with peace an hour before, 
 Till every throne, girt round with fire, 
 Becomes its monarch's funeral pyre ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Amid the columns high and grand 
 That like to sculptured mountains stand, 
 Upbearing, by Potomac's side. 
 This mighty nation's boast and pride, 
 King Cotton stands, miseen the while, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 107 
 
 And haughty rules the massive pile. 
 And, carried thence in loyal hands, 
 Far o'er the seas, to other lands, 
 The starry banner floats, to claim 
 From all due reverence for his name — 
 Backed by a wall of ready steel, 
 Till every foe shall know and kneel. 
 A thousand cannons bellow fire 
 On him that waketh Cotton's ire, 
 And—" 
 
 " There !" said Corn, " do hold, I pray, 
 And breathe a moment by the way; 
 You'll overtax, I'm much afraid, 
 Your mental powers with such tirade, 
 A question,, great King Cotton, I 
 Would ask, if I have liberty." — 
 And Cotton bowed a grave consent — 
 " How happens it that Cotton sent 
 So many thousand soldiers far 
 To check the tide of ]^orthern war — 
 Why marshalled by Potomac's side 
 Were all his nation's, army's pride. 
 As you yourself have told, I think ? 
 Your story lacks connecting link. 
 If this great nation's ruling rod 
 Rises and falls at Cotton's nod — 
 
108 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 If all the walls of Washington 
 Are thrones for- him to sit upon — 
 Why, pray, go up his bannered hosts 
 To scare the foe v/ith fearful boasts? 
 Moreover, v^ho and vnhat this foe'^ 
 There is the point I wish to know." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ^' Well," answered Cotton, " I have crooked 
 
 My story some ; I overlooked 
 
 One incident — a great one, too — 
 
 I meant to bring before yonr view. 
 
 Things, Sir, have got a little mixed, 
 
 And still are not exactly fixed. 
 
 Some crack-brained shoots of IS'orthern soil 
 
 Have late stirred np a great turmoil ; 
 
 In short, grown tat from Cotton's hand, 
 
 And puifed with pride, they thought to stand 
 
 Without his aid ; ay, even thought 
 
 To grasp the kingdom he had wrought 
 
 From out his hand ; therefore uprose. 
 
 And broke at once his long repose. 
 
 And first of all, Sir, they cajoled 
 
 Those who the nation's sceptre hold 
 
 To strike a quick and heavy blow 
 
 To lay King Cotton's kingdom low; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES, 109 
 
 They sought to turn the power received 
 From him that trusted, who deceived. 
 Against himself; as he who holds 
 O'er reeking floods and burning coals 
 Dominion, making each a slave 
 To skim the plain or plough the wave, 
 King Cotton was; and, as those powers 
 Break forth in ill-protected hours 
 And madly rend their captive chain, 
 So rose the foes of Cotton's reign. 
 But all their schemes were quickly foiled; 
 The blow was struck, but it recoiled 
 On their own heads ; King Cotton sprung, 
 And loud and long his war-cry rung ! 
 Four hundred thousand men uprose 
 To crush at once his braggart foes ; 
 And nations too ere long shall come. 
 There sounds a low and threatening hum 
 Across the sea. iJ^apoleon whets 
 The sword which barely slumbers yet, 
 And great John Bull, with bellow deep, 
 Paws up the ground and longs to leap ; 
 His frisking tail is all alive, 
 And horns set low for sudden drip^e. 
 The Pine at last to Palm must bend — 
 I have no fears, Sir, for the end." 
 10 
 
110 CORN- HUSKS. 
 
 xvin. 
 
 "iVw' //" said Corn, emphatic. "Yet 
 Some little things you quite forget; 
 And, more than that, I beg to state, 
 You make a blunder very great. 
 King Cotton's self uprose him first, 
 And plunged the land in strife accursed. 
 Those ' crack-brained shoots of Northern soiF 
 "Watched the great King long fume and boil, 
 And watched with sorrow — pity, even — 
 To see his wits to devils given ; 
 Beheld him writhe with strugglings vain. 
 And shriek and shout with might and main,- 
 And laid no finger on his coast. 
 To cool his blood or check his boast. 
 They saw him rise with haughty pride, 
 And grasp at empires vast and wide — 
 They saw him spit, with sneering wrath, 
 Coiled serpents thick in freedom's path. 
 Yet patient watched his features grim, 
 Till reason should o'ercome his whim. 
 But, when he raised his daring hand 
 To strike' their own well-cherished land, 
 They rose in might to tear his grip 
 From off* the nation's sinking ship — " 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. Ill 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ^' But hold. Sir ! you forget, as well, 
 That even if Cotton did rebel, 
 'Twas 'gainst an armed, unlawful mob, 
 Who sought of all at once to rob; — 
 A mob that chanced to rule the hour. 
 And thought to strip his rightful power. 
 Just please remember. Cotton tights 
 For conquest not, but for his rights: 
 He only battles to defend 
 His kingdom. Sir — not to extend." 
 
 XX. 
 
 "^^ Defend !" said Corn, " why, in the name 
 Of all the reason earth can claim, 
 I ask, /r<9m %ohat f I wish to know 
 Who wants to be King Cotton's foe ? 
 Who cared a single fig for what 
 King Cotton did, or what did not^ 
 Until his liand was raised to tear 
 The stars from out our banner fair? 
 Until his impious fingers dared 
 To grasp the shaft which time had spared, 
 And strove to hurl at once to earth 
 The sacred shrine of Freedom's birth? • 
 
112 0ORN-HU8K8. 
 
 King Cotton, ere your hand shall tear 
 From Freedom's brow a single star — 
 Before your fingers shall pollute 
 Upon her temple one volute — 
 Before your foot shall tread her flag 
 To flaunt a vile and bloody rag, 
 A flood of fire shall blast your land 
 From mountain-tops to ocean's strand ! 
 The structure, which so long hath stood, 
 Cemented by the noblest blood — 
 Southern as well as Northern — earth 
 Hath drunk since fair creation's birth, 
 Shall never basely, weakly fall, 
 Till ruin wraps creati'on's pall ! 
 No star shall leave its dazzling crown 
 To drag the rest in darkness down I 
 Secession — Dissolution — all 
 The fiends, whate'er their names ye call, 
 Shall headlong down to Hell be flung, 
 To plague no more with lying tongue ! 
 Leave ofl", great King, your vile intent : 
 This Union never can he rent /" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 King Cotton laughed — derisive — long. 
 
 And sneering answered : " Sir, you're wrong ; 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 113 
 
 Your long ' spread-eagle' goes for naught- 
 King Cotton, Sir, has no such thought. 
 The illusion I will kindly break, 
 For you have made a great mistake. 
 I cannot say King Cotton bears 
 Affection for the Stripes and Stars 
 Above a hundred silken rags 
 Whereof so many a nation brags ; 
 But as for wishing to uproot 
 The ancient tree, stamped round by foot 
 Of Washington, and trained thenceforth 
 By noble names of equal worth — 
 Why, Sir, you poor ^eluded dog, 
 Your wits are sadly in the fog. 
 King Cotton never meant to do 
 The ' impious' act which so stirs you ; 
 He never sought, and seeks not now, 
 To 'tear a star from Freedom's brow.' 
 He fights, I tell you, for his own, 
 Lest he by foes be overthrown. 
 Indeed, why should he rend in twain 
 Your boasted Union's olden chain. 
 And one fat province nearly lose? 
 Kot he ! he still would rather choose 
 To rule the whole ; he does not strive 
 To break in two the busy hive ; 
 
 10-^- 
 
114 CORN-HU8K8. 
 
 ]S"o! let him rule unbroken still, 
 
 For rule he must^ and rule he vnll P^{^^) 
 
 xxn. 
 
 " Well," answered Corn, *' I do confess, 
 Mj darkness is not growing less ; 
 If wonder held me fast before, 
 Amazement fills me now the more. 
 King Cotton, when jour high-priests waked 
 The thirst which must with blood be slaked, 
 Till o'er your hills their torches blazed 
 And up in air the serpent raised — (^') 
 When at another shrine you swore, 
 The allegiance you this nation bore — 
 When hooting rabbles madly tore 
 The starry banner from the sky, 
 And flung their vile Palmetto high — 
 When drunken mobs upraised the sword, 
 And o'er a dozen ramparts poured, 
 Whose frowning cannon seaward looked, 
 And never foe to Cotton brooked — 
 When to the world you cried aloud 
 Your hands had stitched the nation's shroud- 
 That this Republic's very name 
 A place on earth no more could claim — 
 When many a thousand swords leaped out, 
 
A POEM FOB THE TIMES. 115 
 
 Beleaguered Sumter's flag about, 
 And belching cannon, at your call, 
 Kained fire and death within her wall. 
 Tearing to earth the very flag 
 Which let no tongue uncivil wag 
 Against King Cotton's majesty — 
 As you yourself have told to me — 
 What meant you. Cotton? And again, 
 When, with a hundred thousand men, 
 Up to Potomac's waves you went, 
 On some most mighty mission bent — 
 Pillage or conquest — be it aught 
 It may — for something sure was sought. 
 And for defence the need was none — 
 King Cotton, v)liat would you have done ?" 
 
 Kxm. 
 
 *'Well, Sir, already once I've told 
 
 How grew the Northern ' mud-sills' bold — 
 
 Led on by Greeley's lying press. 
 
 And crafty Seward's low finesse — 
 
 And sudden wrenched, in one feU hour, 
 
 From Cotton's grasp the ruling power. 
 
 They set the presidential crown 
 
 Upon a low-born western clown. 
 
 And grouped around him all the foes 
 
116 CORN- HUSKS. 
 
 King Cotton's mighty empire knows. 
 Therefore King Cotton grasped the sword, 
 To prove himself the rightful lord. 
 He tore to earth the lying * stripes' — 
 Grown now of bitter foes the types — 
 He seized the nation's arms and forts, 
 Threw wide her prisons, shut her courts ; 
 Then northward marched, while thundei-ing 
 
 shout 
 Rose loud and deep along his route, 
 And with a dark and threatening fro^^■]l, 
 Before the Capitol sat down. 
 The nation's bold usurper quaked, 
 When, to their sudden peril waked. 
 They saw the foe they thought to crusli, 
 With fearful might upon them rush. 
 Cutting them off from T^orthern aid — 
 A feature which they had not weighed— 
 With fifteen States behind his back. 
 And nations following in his track — " 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 "Hold there!" Corn interrupted; "hold! 
 That glaring lie is much too bold; 
 Let moderation mark your boast: 
 Your 'fifteen States' were ?'6Vi, at ruvst. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. IIT 
 
 What! claim you Delaware, who yet 
 Has raised no single bayonet 
 Against her flag, but rather raised 
 Against yourself? I am amazed! 
 And Maryland — that noble State ! 
 Long live her good Chief Magistrate, 
 To grace the scroll of Honor's great ! 
 You quite forget that when you sent, 
 With sneaking steps and vile intent, 
 Your own commissioners, to buy 
 Brave Hicks from truth and loyalty. 
 The noble answer that he made. 
 Stronger than many a shining blade! 
 ' Back to King Cotton, Sirs, and tell : 
 ril see his majesty in Helli^^) 
 Before he rules my State or me, 
 Or claims from us one bending knee!'" 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Hicks — yes ! the old arch-hypocrite ! 
 My vengeance shall o'ertake him yet ! 
 Who thus betrayed — so base betrayed — 
 The King who rightful claimed his aid. 
 Ay, let him tremble! let them all, 
 When Cotton's heavy hand shall fall. 
 Already given is one fierce blow, 
 
118 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 And many more they yet shall know. 
 , Let traitors all remember well 
 Who 'gainst King Cotton's rod rebel, 
 The blood that flowed when vengeance woker, 
 Front Royal's first terrific stroke !"('^) 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 "Well, Cotton, it surprises me 
 
 That one of such a high degree 
 
 From that ignoble fight should claim 
 
 A spark of honor to his name ; 
 
 Much rather should you blush with shame 
 
 For deeds by lawless scoundrels done, 
 
 Outnumbering foemen five to one. 
 
 But I shall not to-day forestall ' 
 
 The verdict which thereon shall fall 
 
 From coming years and coming men, 
 
 Writ by the fair historian's pen. 
 
 I beg to call your notice back 
 
 Into the subject's natural track, 
 
 And ask the question once again, 
 
 What Cotton's hundred thousand men 
 
 Went up to Washington to do 
 
 To Greeley's dupes and Seward's crew ? 
 
 Since you deny that his intent 
 
 Was then to see the Union rent ? 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. , 119 
 
 You've told me what support he had — 
 What fearful hosts for battle clad — • 
 Now please proceed." 
 
 xxvn. 
 
 "Most gladly, Sir; 
 My inclination needs no spur. 
 King Cotton's hosts went up to flood 
 His foemen's land with flame and blood; — 
 To punish many an ancient wrong, 
 And stinging insults deep and long. 
 They went to reinstate his power 
 On every Northern hill and tower; — 
 To seize the Capitol, and tear 
 From thence the base usurper's chair, 
 And set his ^^ceroy, Davis, there. 
 For if but four years more had passed 
 Before the Northern rising vast — 
 If Breckenridge could but have held 
 The rod, he need not have rebelled. 
 Too late had then been all their snares — 
 TocTlate their speeches, books, and prayers — 
 Too late their howls of bitter gall — 
 King Cotton's bit had gagged them all! 
 King Cotton's hand had coolly laid 
 Away the ancient paper made — 
 
120 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The cause of many a fierce dispute — 
 The tree which. bore but bitter fruit — 
 Had laid each haggled, crumpled fold 
 Where old colonial charters mould, 
 And set a King to rule alone 
 Upon his oligarchy's throne ! 
 He did not care to break the bond 
 Of which you seem to be so fond ; 
 He only sought again to reign, 
 And all his former power regain 
 By force of arms, if need must be, 
 And see that no rebellious knee 
 Henceforth with paper walls should dare 
 His universal rule to bar. 
 Their types and presses grew too much 
 A dangerous foe within their clutch, 
 And even pulpits grew so bold, 
 That heresy claimed all the fold. 
 But let King Davis wear a crown, 
 And tear the weak Republic down. 
 And all those foes should quickly feel 
 And fear his heavy grinding heel; — 
 No more at Cotton's power should scoff, 
 Or cease to howl when tongues were off. 
 For this King Cotton buckled on 
 The armor used long years agone, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES, 121 
 
 And went him up to Nortli frontier, 
 
 To threatening shake the vengeful spear." 
 
 xxvm. 
 
 "Ah, well! a nice programme, indeed, 
 Except to those he meant. should bleed! 
 A plot of great dimensions, such 
 That common minds can hardly clutch 
 At single grasp its whole extents- 
 Yes, mighty things King Cotton meant I 
 And yet, if I be rightly told, 
 'No such fierce iloodS as yet have rolled 
 In fury o'er a single rod 
 Of iN'orthern streams or Northern sod. 
 How happens it that Cotton failed 
 To see his foes on blood regaled? 
 How is it that McClellan sits 
 Serenely in his rifle-pits,. 
 Beneath the shadow of the throne 
 "Whereon King Davis sits to groan, 
 Besieged full close within his * own ? 
 Explain to me why Halleck lies 
 'Yond Corinth's boasted batteries, 
 
 Unfought by him " 
 
 -i. 11 • 
 
122 COfiN-HUSKS. 
 
 *'Have patience, Sir; 
 Your eagerness can but deter, 
 I should have told, and quickly too, 
 Had you but paused till I was through. 
 IVe told you that King Cotton planned 
 Himself to sweep his foemen's land ; 
 But, failing here — and that he did 
 Is a sad truth which can't be hid, 
 And frankly own I must and will — 
 His generals have lacked the skill 
 To carry out his perfect will- 
 Failing in this — and fickle Fate, 
 Deserting at the need most great,' 
 Turned back his arms i little -while, 
 Luring the foe with transient smile, — 
 He bars the foe with blasting fires, 
 And back within himself retires ; 
 And on his own, though threatened hearth, 
 Defies the mightiest powers of earth ! 
 Right on his threshold firm he stands, 
 And smites the foe with both Iiis hands. 
 And waits in patience for the hour 
 When, at his mandate, many a power 
 Across the sea shall grasp the spear, 
 And quake the foe with sudden fear. 
 Already Madness sits himself 
 
A POEM FOB THE TIMES. 123 
 
 Upon their ruler's manter-slielf — 
 
 Strides haughty through their Congress halls, 
 
 And mans the cannon on their walls; 
 
 Deep blindness fills their haughty eyes, 
 
 And devils fill their hearts with lies. 
 
 They seek King Cotton's land to bar 
 
 Around about with fiery war, 
 
 Sealing against the world his ports, 
 
 "With mighty ships and frowning forts, 
 
 Hastening with such blind madness on, 
 
 The very thing they most should shun. 
 
 Across the sea a murmur grows 
 
 Louder on every wind that blows; 
 
 John Bull, as I have said before, 
 
 Paws up the ground with sullen roar — " 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 *^Well, let him paw, and stamp, and roar: 
 Thank God, he dares to do no more ! 
 His martial taste has much improved 
 Since first his braggart red-coats moved 
 Upon the men of Lexington, 
 Add learned how fast themselves could run. 
 He's learned to know what Yorktown means, 
 And sighs to think of New Orleans ; 
 
124 C0RN-HUSK8. 
 
 Zack Taylor wal^d his sleepy brain 
 
 With Buena Yista's reeking plain ; 
 
 And two small gunboats, t'other day. 
 
 Having a bit of pleasant play 
 
 In Hampton Roads, well-nigh bereft 
 
 Poor Bull of what few wits were left. 
 
 But please once more explain to me 
 
 The point I cannot plainly see; 
 
 You say, *Let Cotton set him down 
 
 Within his halls, and surly frown — ' 
 
 And then proceed to tell of all 
 
 The consequences, great and small. 
 
 Which would the old world's thrones befall- 
 
 The half of which I can't recall — 
 
 Kow will your majesty explain 
 
 Away the doubt which clouds my brain? 
 
 We well do know that Cotton's quays 
 
 Have hugged in vain the empty seas 
 
 Above a year, and sought to win 
 
 Some straggling trader's vessel in ; 
 
 We know that all these weary days 
 
 King Cotton's eyes can seaward gaze, 
 
 And see the frowning frigates sleep 
 
 Upon the bare and boundless deep, 
 
 Sealing his ports, with deathly grip, 
 
 Against a single passing ship; 
 
A POEM FOE THB TIMES. 125 
 
 And yet John Bull but only ' paws,' 
 And yet no sword IS^apoleon draws. 
 What hope you farther?" 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Hope — why, hope 
 Is to the drowning man a rope: 
 And he whom hope holds ever fast, 
 Can never fail to win at last. 
 I fear me not the promised aid 
 Shall come at last, though long delayed. 
 Indeed it 'must ; no power can quell 
 When starving mobs for bread rebel; 
 And Manchesters and Liverpools 
 Are not — coMJioi be ruled by fools, 
 To bring fell woe in every shape 
 Upon their heads, they might escape, 
 By simply claiming what is just 
 And due themselves; they will not trust 
 The sordid promise of the IN'orth, 
 Which brings but blood and rapine forth. 
 No ! Britain's sword shall fall in might 
 To save itself rebellion's blight. 
 And tear away the ships like straw 
 Which block the way of Traffic's law ! 
 11^ 
 
126 CORNIIUSKS. 
 
 True, * hope deferred but maketh sick 
 The heart' that bids its coming quick; 
 But time shall bring, as sure as fate, 
 The blow which cannot be too late. 
 Moreover, let but Cotton smite 
 The foe again with sudden blight — 
 Let Bull Eun's victory live again 
 Above her hosts of slaughtered men — 
 Let Wilson's Creek, with mighty blow, 
 Lay one more Northern Lyon low. 
 Or Ball's Bluff hear the triumph yell 
 When abolition Baker fell — 
 Let Fair Oaks be repeated yet, 
 To see another laurel set 
 Upon " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Fair Oaks ! ye gods ! who dares 
 xo mock another's battle scars. 
 And to himself unblushing claim 
 The wreath which crowns McClellan's name I 
 Why, at your boasted fight, Fair Oaks, 
 Who got the most and heaviest strokes? 
 Who raiif Who followed close behind? 
 That fully settles, to my mind. 
 Which party beat — which beaten was; 
 
A rOEM FOR THK TIM KB. 127 
 
 Necessity's are mighty laws — 
 
 For any thing sufficient cause ; 
 
 And he who runs with wondrous tact, 
 
 Must have some motive for the act. 
 
 And 'tis but justice to suppose 
 
 That he who runs when eager foes 
 
 Are near at hand, and runs away, 
 
 Cares not to meet them on that day. 
 
 Then wherein is the victory great 
 
 Which yet shall bring, ' as sure as fate,' 
 
 From nations which have borne a year 
 
 The rod whose very sight is fear, 
 
 The aid and strength with which you hope 
 
 "With this great nation's arms to cope ?" 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 '' The hour is past !" and Tiger raised 
 
 Himself, and yawned, and Eastward gazed, 
 
 To see how far the morning sun 
 
 His daily course in heaven had run. 
 
 " The hour is past ! When comes it next. 
 
 Unless with many duties vexed, 
 
 I shall be here at rise of sun. 
 
 To hear the end of what's begun. 
 
 Thus far, I've been much entertained, 
 
 And many new ideas gained. 
 
128 CORN-HUSK8. 
 
 Good-day." And Tiger leaped the fence 
 With single bound, and trotted tlience, 
 Seeking the tooting breakfast horn, 
 And passed from sight among the corn. 
 
 END OF CANTO HI. 
 
CORN-HUSKS 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 1. 
 
 ''The Morning comes — the smiling Morn! 
 
 Across the sky her banners flinging— 
 To see the Night's dark tresses sh6rn, 
 
 While hers in golden light are swinging ; — 
 To break the web which slumber twined, 
 And fleeing darkness left behind! 
 
 2. 
 
 '' The Morning comes — the happy Morn ! 
 
 Beside the sun all closely keeping, 
 Locked hand in hand: and Day is born. 
 
 When o'er the hills the twain are leaping ! 
 
130 CORN- HUSKS. 
 
 And Love and Beauty join in one 
 The Morning and the Morning Sun ! 
 
 3. 
 
 " The Morning comes — the harvest Morn I 
 Her glowing hand the sickle fetches; 
 
 And Plenty tips her bounteous horn, 
 To fill the hand which Labor stretches. 
 
 But lo ! the Morning softly flies, 
 
 And Day hath claimed her glowing skies!" 
 
 n. 
 
 The morning song had scarcely died 
 From off the prairies rolling wide, 
 When Tiger's foot came brushing through 
 The long grass, wet with morning dew. 
 And CoVn, rejoiced to see the smile 
 Of glad content which beamed the while 
 On all the world his eyes could trace, 
 And mirrored back from Tiger's face, 
 Shook downward, from his giant height, 
 A shower of gems of sparkling light ; 
 Then, gently bowing, bended down 
 The leaves and tassels growing brown," 
 And spoke: "Well, Tiger, you liave brought 
 •Your presence sooner than I thought ; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 131 
 
 You see the sun — his lower limb 
 Even yet below the grass is dim ; 
 His face is scarcely all in sight, 
 Although, indeed, unusual bright. 
 You're early." 
 
 "True,'' old Tige replied, 
 Shaking the dew from dripping side. 
 '' Master this morn was out of bed 
 Before the eastern sky grew red ; — 
 With John has been, since early light, 
 Grinding. the sickles keen and bright. 
 He means to reap his corn to-day, 
 Last night I overheard him say. 
 And I have come as I agreed, 
 To hear the King and you proceed 
 With this discussion that I've heard, 
 And careful treasured every word." 
 
 in. 
 
 " Well, let him reap ; I trust he'll find 
 My brethren all to fate resigned, 
 Joyful to meet the keen-edged blade. 
 And meekly bow each ripened head, 
 With utmost duty all fulfilled. 
 To glad the hand that careful tilled. 
 I trust, moreover, that the crop 
 
132 OORN-HU8K8. 
 
 Shall fill his cribs to very top, 
 
 And show a larger, sounder yield 
 
 Than ever grew upon the field; • 
 
 Although I think I've heard it said, 
 
 Ten generations now are dead 
 
 Which once have stood on this same spot 
 
 Where now I stand, while they are not! 
 
 My sole anxiety, my friend, 
 
 Is that the blow may not descend 
 
 Till from King Cotton's lips I catch 
 
 Of brazen boasts another batch. 
 
 Indeed, he's well prepared to-day, 
 
 Having but little else to say 
 
 Excepting — " 
 
 "Say! Why, bless you, Sir, 
 More grievously you could not err. 
 This morning hour shall never come 
 To find King Cotton stricken dumb; 
 His tongue shall run while earth shall roll, , 
 Or clings the star to northern pole. 
 Moreover, you mistake, or lie. 
 In deemiiig boasting all that I 
 Have now to offer in behalf 
 Of self against a senseless calf — " 
 *• Well — well !'' said Tige, " sicch monstrous 
 shots 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 133 
 
 Bespeak a conflict growing hot; ^ 
 
 Such shafts of wit and argument, 
 
 Thus home to adversary sent, 
 
 Must blunt his sharpest steel at once, 
 
 And bid him own his foe a — rhmce ! 
 
 I see the- proof before my sight 
 
 That Seward, even yet, is right ; 
 
 His ' conflict irrepressible' 
 
 Not yet hath found its measure full. 
 
 And sudden breaketh out with those 
 
 Who seem but friends, and yet are foes. 
 
 Even here, across this parting fence, 
 
 The single stalk which represents 
 
 The mighty power, whose clenching hand 
 
 Darkens the sky and floods the land. 
 
 Must needs a taunting insult fling, 
 
 To rouse his foe with bitter sting. 
 
 Ay, Sew^ard! One must rule alone. 
 
 And see the other overthrown, — 
 
 Cast dow^n and trampled by the heel 
 
 Which only for itself can feel !" 
 
 IV, 
 
 *' You quite mistake us both," said Corn ; 
 " King Cotton's words are sharp this morn, 
 And bite, 'tis true, where'er they strike ; 
 12 
 
134 COEN-HUSKS 
 
 I too can answer if I like. 
 
 But do not choose ; the tinie shcdl come 
 When Cotton's boastings shall be dumb ; 
 When all the hosts to battle stirred, 
 Obedient to my single word, 
 Shall plant my flag npon his hills, 
 And seize the valve which rmis his mills. 
 But let it pass ; I do not care 
 To-day to chase the subject far ; 
 And though we do not all disclaim 
 The ' irrepressible' you name, 
 Nor that to which it surely tends, 
 We do protest that we are friends; 
 King Cotton, are we not ?" 
 
 "Why, Sir, 
 As individuals, we are ; 
 Although my hand, as Tige has said. 
 Shakes all the world with boding dread, 
 I stand me here, quite unconcerned 
 What wordy shafts are 'gainst me turned. 
 But one idea I infer 
 From what you just were saying. Sir, 
 Which strikes me as entirely new. 
 If that the thought itself be true ; 
 i never even dreamed that you 
 Were here to represent the power 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 135 
 
 Wliicli seeks to make King Cotton cower. 
 Indeed, I now full well can see 
 Why you so closely questioned me, 
 When last we talked, concerning all 
 Tlie wrath which rose at Cotton's call ; 
 And see I, too, the artful trap 
 Wherein I fell, by sad mishap. 
 Surely, King Corn — (I give to you 
 What courtesy demands as due : 
 A title fact, ere months go by, 
 Shall brand and prove a bare-faced lie) — 
 Surely, King Corn, your modest tongue 
 To silence on this point hath clung " 
 
 "And yet shall cling," said Tiger. "Yet, 
 
 King Cotton, do you quite forget 
 
 That I, two months ago, laid claim 
 
 To Corn's full right to kingly name ; 
 
 Upon that morning when the dew, 
 
 Though cold, I own, was thought by you 
 
 To be a horrid ' pinching frost,' 
 
 And many a growl your kingship cost? 
 
 But then, 'tis true, I did not say 
 
 That marshalled for this fearful fray 
 
 Were all these troops by Corn's stout hand, 
 
136 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 To. save from death his native land 
 
 I did not say it ; but I thought 
 
 That if your brain could compass aught 
 
 At all, you snre could see thus far, 
 
 And recognize 'gainst whom* you war ; — 
 
 The one whose power your own shall blast, 
 
 And down to deep destruction cast " 
 
 VI. ♦ 
 
 " Cast what, old Tiger ? Do you think 
 
 My throne so near destruction's brink. 
 
 That yon poor stalk of bashful corn 
 
 Can proudly smite my peoj^le's horn. 
 
 And laugh to see me helpless fall, 
 
 And die beside my castle wall, — « 
 
 Dancing upon my palace floors 
 
 With name emblazoned on my doors? 
 
 Ye gods! His own shall feel my tread, 
 
 And see his own dissevered head 
 
 Grinning a ghastly, death-set smile ■ 
 
 On foes that rule his ancient pile ! 
 
 Even now, behold ! in spite of death 
 
 At hands of frosts and JSTorth- wind's breath. 
 
 Encompassing on every side, 
 
 I leap the barriers that divide ; 
 
 And here behold King Corn defied 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 137 
 
 Upon Ms own dominions wide ! 
 
 No ! ere his foot shall tread tlie earth 
 
 Whereon myself had noble birth, 
 
 I swear that " 
 
 *' Hold a moment there 
 Before that fearful oath yon swear, 
 For which the power to all fnliil 
 Is gone from yon, if not the will." 
 So Tiger spoke. " Besides, my lord, 
 That awful thing, so much abhorred, 
 Is now beyond your power to check, 
 Though all the woes earth knows should deck 
 Your oath; for even now the Sun 
 Beholds broad acres, once your own. 
 Resigned to Corn, and him who stands 
 His right hand premier in his lands — 
 Even Wheat himself; yon stubbles show 
 Whereon he stood a month ago ; 
 And little deemed you then, I ween, 
 The object of your moment's spleen 
 Had grasped on many a thousand roods 
 Whereon your memory fondly broods. 
 King Cotton, forth by battle driven, 
 Beholds his ancient acres given 
 To cereal grains, whose power sustains 
 The feeble life which yet remains. 
 12^ 
 
138 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 You know that ere this wicked war, 
 
 Which well might make the world abhor 
 
 Its savage instigator, sprung 
 
 From brain of yours and lying tongue, 
 
 Your own vast nations all were fed 
 
 From N^orthern soil and JNTorthern bread ; 
 
 And just as well you know, that when 
 
 You strove to tear the bond in twain, 
 
 The walls of war uprose to bar 
 
 The thousand loads of boat and car 
 
 From land of yours ; you also know 
 
 How soon uprose a cry of woe — 
 
 The cry which gaunt starvation draws 
 
 From shrinking lips and hungry maws. 
 
 Look to your markets; how the price 
 
 Of bread was doubled in a trice. 
 
 And every month, whose last sun set, 
 
 Beheld it rising higher yet, 
 
 Till even your vilely slandered foes 
 
 At mercy's bidding quickly rose — 
 
 The foe 'gainst whom your cannons roar — 
 
 And fed at home your starving poor,(''^) 
 
 Whose fathers — ^husbands — strove to shed 
 
 The blood of him who generous fed. 
 
 'Twas stern necessity, I own. 
 
 Which bade King Cotton's friends dethrone 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 139 
 
 The giant god tlieir hands had raised, 
 And thought to see the world amazed. 
 I own that want alone compelled 
 To give the acres Cotton held 
 To corn and wheat; but men must eat. 
 And cotton-bales were sorry meat. 
 But that 'tis done is all we wish 
 To give you for this morning's dish. 
 It matters not how you may look 
 Upon the matter; Corn hath shook 
 King Cotton from his ancient throne, 
 And soon shall fill the whole alone. 
 And more; the field whereon you grew — 
 The clods from which your life you drew. 
 And which your words would so adorn, 
 Bears now a rousing crop of corn." 
 
 vn. 
 
 " How know you this ?" 
 
 " Why, just as all 
 The knowledge th^t to us can fall ; 
 I learned in part — not all, indeed — 
 Hearing my master talk and read. 
 As for this item, which, I see, 
 Disturbs somewhat your majesty, 
 
140 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 The South-wind told me Idiig ago ; 
 And told it not you also?" . 
 
 "JSTo; 
 And yet I only half believe 
 
 The tongue that " 
 
 " Never did deceive," 
 Said Corn, with warmth ; " and I may add. 
 That he who questions must be mad. 
 For also to myself, some weeks 
 Ago, was told the news which breaks 
 So sudden now on stubborn ears. 
 And mind which doubts the truth it hears. 
 But 'tis a fact; and thousands more, 
 From far Atlantic's beaten shore 
 To Mississippi's turbid tide, 
 And ftir to South, — the Gulf beside, — 
 Are given over to the sway ♦- 
 
 Of him who *talks with you to-day. 
 Even the Northern 'mud-sill's' foot* 
 Which you have sworn should ne'er be put 
 Upon your soil, hath overrun 
 Your ^cres, well-high every one. 
 'Tis useless longer to oppose 
 Already half-successful foes; 
 Fate hath decreed your power shall fall, 
 And men no more shall own your thrall. 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 141 
 
 Forbear the strife ! Throw down the sword ! 
 Recall each wandering, beaten horde, 
 And bid the beams of peace benign 
 On jour distracted country shine ! 
 Yonr utmost power can do no more; — 
 Then why not give the conflict o'er?" 
 
 vm. 
 
 '' Not quite so fast, Sir Corn ; I yet 
 Yield not to foes which can be met — 
 Ay, met and beaten ! Time shall show 
 Whether this mean, unworthy foe 
 Can bid King Cotton humbly kneel 
 To brutal force of conquering steel. 
 JS'o, Corn ! my hand shall never cower ! 
 Your hosts shall feel my fearful power 
 At many a dark, unguarded hour ; 
 Falling at once, at dead of night, 
 As falls the dread malaria's blight; 
 Blasting your arms with withering^ flame, 
 Such as of old could sudden tame 
 The British Lion — tamed and bound — 
 And bade him crawl, like craven hoiind, 
 To lick the beavy band that smote, 
 With humble words in quivering throat. 
 Look to yourself, great Corn, I say. 
 Against destruction's flaming day, 
 
142 CORN-IIUSKS. 
 
 Wlien every glen and shadow black 
 
 Shall send a foe on slumber's track! 
 
 When Halleck's spear shall fail to smite 
 
 The foe which day shows not in sight ; 
 
 When great McClellan's mighty sword, 
 
 Which iiery wrath so long hath poured, 
 
 Shall shrink to earth like wilted gourd. 
 
 When, cleaving yet again the air, 
 
 It falls — and finds no foeman there ! 
 
 When strategy shall die and rot 
 
 From foe its eye discovers not. 
 
 Yet sudden springs when none can aid. 
 
 And deeply. dyes the sleepless blade f 
 
 When Plague and Fever, hand in hand. 
 
 Stalk through the ranks which might withstand 
 
 The battle's hail and never quail. 
 
 How soon shall every soldier fail ! 
 
 How soon King Cotton's hand shall sweep 
 
 The haughty foe to terror deep. 
 
 Who yet shall learn, in triumph's hour. 
 
 To know, and feel, and dread his power ! 
 
 Shall find that, though his towns shall fall. 
 
 And foes o'errun his acres all, 
 
 Y/hile yet he hath immortal life, 
 
 His hand shall never cease from strife !" 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 143 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Well, then, King Cotton, be it so : 
 Let every liill a robber know ; 
 Be every bush, at dead of niglit. 
 The lonely traveller's shivering fright ; 
 Be raised the cross, in every glen,(^^) 
 Above the bones of murdered men ; 
 And many a ruin stand to tell 
 Whereon guerilla's vengeance fell ; 
 Let Eapine stalk from town to town, 
 Pass by the fields and leave them brown. 
 And lay his bloody, fiery hand 
 On every hamlet in the land; 
 Let prowling hordes of lawless scamps 
 Beset by night my soldiers' camps. 
 And do their worst to break the spear 
 Which only strikes again to rear 
 The noble fabric you destroyed, 
 And left a worse than empty void. 
 But let me tell you. Cotton, now, 
 , That Right to Wrong shall never bow ; 
 That Truth and Justice shall prevail 
 Till every hellish foe shall quail; 
 Till every hand that dares to bar 
 The onward march of Freedom's car 
 
144 COKN-HUSKS. 
 
 Shall wither, scorched with awful flame, 
 Beyond the power of tongue to name ! 
 Destruction waits, with foaming jaws, 
 For him who breaks Progression's laws; 
 And righteous wrath shall overtake 
 Who sheddeth blood for darkness' sake. 
 Go on, King Cotton ! Call you up 
 A thousand woes to fill your cup ; 
 And yet beware, lest devils fill. 
 And bid you quafi" a'gainst your will! 
 Ay, see your towns and cities blaze, 
 Without a pitying eye to gaze — 
 See lawless robbers, called to life 
 At word of yours, take up the knife ; 
 And yet beware, lest sudden start 
 Shall plunge it in your own black heart !" 
 
 X. 
 
 " Ye gods ! Sir Corn, your words are stout, 
 And spit with spiteful venom out ! 
 I never thought your bashful tongue 
 So smoothly geared, or highly strung. 
 Indeed, if you should practise w^ell. 
 And learn some phrases cast in Hell, 
 And, always gaining, do no worse. 
 You'd do a very famous curse. 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 14:5 
 
 But now, good Sir, since you have given 
 The woes to which I shall be driven, 
 Please lay aside your pompous talk ; 
 With me in common English walk, 
 And tell me how these dreadful things 
 Shall come to pass; what hidden springs 
 You mean to touch, to flood on me 
 Such waves of full destruction's sea. 
 I'm quite befogged." 
 
 "Quite likely — quite; 
 His brain must surely be in night 
 -Who coolly therewith could invent 
 Such scheme of damnable intent. 
 King Cotton, loose, if wish you so, 
 Your thousand robbers on the foe ;— 
 Call out your fierce guerilla bands, 
 And place the torch within their hands, 
 To devastate your fertile lands ; 
 And how much time shall be required 
 Tu make yourself of plunder tired ? 
 A vrandeyhig troop, to pillage bred, 
 By desperate, lawless leaders led, — 
 At home wherever night o'ertakes, 
 And ready house a shelter makes,— 
 Live by the sword, and soon shall learn 
 To little care 'gainst whom they turn ; 
 13 
 
146 CORK-HUSKS. 
 
 Booty alone^— alike — the cry, 
 And friend or foe must yield — or die ! 
 Who then shall pity, when the wrath 
 Called np by you shall fiood your path — 
 When hellish cup, for others mixed, 
 Shall pass your own foul lips betwi:^t? — 
 When Law and Justice fly the land 
 Which knows no rule but sword and brand, 
 And petty robber chieftains hold 
 A sway which cares for naught but gold? 
 Wlien blackest Anarchy shall reign, 
 And make your land another Spain, 
 Who then shall pity him — or ought — 
 Who on himself these horrors brought?" 
 
 " Not you, indeed ; nor do I care ; 
 You'll have no sympathy to spare ; 
 You'll need it all yourself, I fear. 
 Before another ending year. 
 But all these pictures which yort draw, 
 Of blazing towns and trampled law, 
 Are foolish quite — are nonsense — fudge — 
 And cannot make King Cotton budge 
 A single inch ; too well he knows 
 What pity means which comes from foes. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 147 
 
 I tell yon, Corn, I fear me not 
 
 For all these horrors, reeking hot, 
 
 Which jou denounce so thick and fast : 
 
 My system, Sir, is much too vast — 
 
 Too well arranged — too well controlled 
 
 By leaders stout, and true, and bold. 
 
 I trust my rod in able hands: 
 
 Who fears while Beauregard commands f'('^) 
 
 xn. 
 
 *^ Kot Halleck, surely, goodness knows ; 
 
 Nor Grant, as Pittsburg Landing shows; 
 
 Nor Pope, who slashed his flying rear, 
 
 And saw him run with awful fear, 
 
 Even to seek, by aid of car, 
 
 For safety's vales in Bichmond far. 
 
 Although, perhaps, his thousands ten •' 
 
 Might force Fort Sumter's seventy men 
 
 To lower their tattered flag again, — 
 
 And bid the world to stare their eyes, 
 
 And gape their mouths with wild surprise, 
 
 To see such deeds of valor done 
 
 As hundreds overcoming one ! 
 
 But, last of all — the 'crowning act ■ 
 
 I scarce can vet believe a tact, — - 
 
14:8 COEN-IIUSKS. 
 
 He rends an armv vast and stout 
 
 To plundering hordes, and sends them out ' 
 
 xni. 
 
 '' And what of that ? The case demands. 
 Self-preservation foremost stands, 
 And warrants all and every thing 
 Which aid and strength to self can bring. 
 I fear me not ; each soldier's blade 
 Grives to himself support and aid ; 
 And awkward sure must be the one 
 Whose arm but strikes its master down. 
 King Cotton's hand has never got 
 To such sad pitch: he fears him not. 
 But how, Sir Corn, do you expect 
 From this fierce warfare to protect 
 Y(fhrself ? How 'scape the terror just. 
 And fell defeat? for come it must. 
 
 How save yourself^ " 
 
 ^'Myself! Ye gods ! 
 I'll hang your sneaking curs by squads ! 
 Outlaws, who forfeit every claim 
 To human treatment — human name! 
 And every town which dares to aid. 
 Shall see its walls in ashes laid! 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 149 
 
 Even as Schofield's vengeful sword(^^) 
 Descends .to cleave the wicked horde 
 Who long have wet Missouri's soil 
 With noble blood, and cursed by spoil, 
 So every foot of Southern sod 
 Shall feel just Law's terrific rod ! 
 Call out your robbers, if you think 
 Your land itself shall 'scape the stink — 
 Call out your robbers, boasted King, 
 And see each villain's carcass swing!" 
 
 xrv. 
 
 " What ! think you, Corn, that blood shall flow 
 
 In such broad stream, and never know 
 
 A fierce, retaliating foe? 
 
 Think you the nations dumb shall stand, 
 
 And never check your reeking hand ; — 
 
 Look on and see such bloody work 
 
 As ne'er disgraced the barbarous Turk, 
 
 And raise no righteous blade to lop 
 
 The arm which mercy cannot stop ? 
 
 IN'o, Corn ! all Christendom shall raise 
 
 The sword of wrath, till war shall bfeze " 
 
 13* 
 
150 C0KN-HUSK8. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Then be it raised! I do not care; 
 
 For here, King Cotton, do I swear 
 
 That Law shall rule, and Union hold 
 
 Her Southern sceptre, as of old. 
 
 Though every head which will not bow 
 
 Manure the soil it curses now ! 
 
 Up, then ! I do not care a straw 
 
 For all the swords that Wrong can draw 
 
 For, firm on Right's eternal wall. 
 
 King Cotton, / defy them all ! 
 
 And you — your utmost power can do 
 
 No more to harm; whatever crew 
 
 You call, to aid in bloody fray. 
 
 Shall quick be swept from earth away. 
 
 Away the spear ! The buckler fling ! 
 
 And bathe in peace's cooling spring 
 
 The lips hot-parched in useless fight. 
 
 To aid tlie wrong against the right !" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 *' And <even. Corn, if this should be. 
 Think you 'twould sink me one degree? 
 Though I the buckler downward fling. 
 Think you it holds my crown of King? 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 151 
 
 jSTot so ; my rod, unbroken still, 
 Shall bo.w the nations at my will ; 
 For you remember that I hold 
 My power in captive chains of gold — 
 Commercial rule — a greater far 
 Than that derived from bloody war. 
 And only wdien usurper tries 
 To bar wdth laws, monopolies, 
 And tariffs, does King Cotton draw 
 The sword, to right the wronging law." 
 
 xvn. 
 
 " Well — well ; I do not care me much, 
 
 To-day, with argument to clutch 
 
 The little consolation left 
 
 To you, of all well-nigh bereft. 
 
 One thing, though, might be added here, 
 
 Which cannot give you much of cheer : 
 
 You've learned your lessons very dear. 
 
 Time was when Cotton's power was great 
 
 Throughout these vast United States, 
 
 Till mad ambition bade him stretch 
 
 Ungodly hands the whole to snatch. 
 
 But righteous retribution sprung 
 
 From startled sleep, and sudden flung 
 
152 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 Her blood-red banners o'er Lis head, 
 And struck his power forever dead : 
 At least what power at home he held, 
 Bj laws 'gainst which his hand rebelled." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " And yet, Sir Corn, yon cannot say 
 That aught, in fact, hath broke my sway. 
 King Cotton's empire world-wide is — 
 A universal rule is his; 
 And though these western ports are shut 
 By chains which Britain dare not cut, 
 Yet Cotton's power, you still must own. 
 Is undiminished — none hath flown; 
 And Britain bends as low to-day, 
 Beneath his soft yet potent sway." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " In part, quite true ; and that, you see, * 
 
 But proves what late was said by me: 
 
 That all the power he held before 
 
 On this, his proud adopted shore, 
 
 Is gone forever — bid to fly 
 
 By one wrong act of deepest dye. 
 
 Full high your mighty venture cost ; 
 
 You staked your all — and threw — and lost! 
 
A POEM FOS THE TIMES. 153 
 
 And well have learned what fearful stings 
 This damnable rebellion brings. 
 'Tis true, John Bull must have his bales. 
 To bid him graze in quiet's vales; 
 And have he did ; but did not kneel 
 To beg of Charleston or Mobile. 
 Savannah groaned beneath her load, 
 And l^ew Orleans was overflowed ; 
 But Bull discovered in the way 
 A frightful, lurking beast of prey, 
 And sneaked him off with sullen growl, — 
 Let off from stomach growing foul, — 
 To drav/ his bales, as best he can. 
 From Africa and Hindostan. 
 There, Cotton, was your great mistake, 
 From which hath sprung a bloody lake. 
 You filled with lies your people's ears — 
 Lies that are washing out in tears ! 
 You've told me that your rod had power 
 To ' make the British Lion cower ;' 
 So told you. then; and Toombs and Rhett 
 •Blazoned the black lie wider yet, 
 Till, all deceived, your followers few 
 In pride and numbers stronger grew, 
 And rose, at call of yours, to fling 
 The nation's neck 'neath foot of king,('-) 
 
154 eOBN- HUSKS. 
 
 And 'neath destrnction's waters roll 
 The Constitution's sacred scroll. 
 And now, defeated — torn — dispersed, — 
 By ruined dupes despised and cursed, — 
 Your eyes may see the bitter fruit 
 Of lying tongue none dared dispute." 
 
 XX. 
 
 "I own, Sir Corn, that steel hath brought 
 
 Defeat to me in battle fought ; 
 
 Yet, as yourself. Sir, half admit, 
 
 Upon my throne I firmly sit ; 
 
 And yet, by laws of trade, I swing 
 
 The sceptre of a mighty king. 
 
 Cotton the w^orld "tnust have — and will: 
 
 I hold unchecked dominion still." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 '' And there the very point you touch 
 
 I do not care to argue much; 
 
 As I have said, who cared a fig 
 
 For Cotton's boastings, puifed and big — 
 
 Whether he called him king or slave, 
 
 A covrard loon or warrior brave. 
 
 The foe of falsehood or its knave, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 165 
 
 Until lie raised his hand to put 
 His boasts in practice ; till his foot, 
 Had not it met with timely check, 
 Had placed itself on Freedom's neck? 
 For words are often harmless qnite, 
 Provoking smiles when meant for fright ; 
 And when this wicked war is flung 
 Back to the Hell from whence it sprung, 
 I little care though Cotton claim 
 A hundred titles to his name." 
 
 xxn. 
 
 " You yield the point, then ?" 
 
 '' Yield ! not I ! 
 I cannot tell a bare-faced lie : 
 I say I care but little how 
 That minor point be argued now, 
 So that the strife be given o'er. 
 And peace and plenty reign once more. 
 But while you proudly claim to hold 
 Such power o'er Britain's Lion bold, 
 Just for a moment please suppose 
 That jVorther?i ports a year should close ; 
 That Bufi'alo be swept away. 
 With all the ships that own her sway; 
 
156 COKN-HIJSKS. 
 
 Suppose tliese endless prairies slept, 
 And all Chicago's granaries swept 
 At once from eartli by one fell blow ; 
 How soon tlie loss should Britain know ! 
 I tell you, Cotton, when the strife 
 Shall come direct 'tween death and life, 
 Your boasted rod, from fingers dead. 
 Shall useless fall as stones you tread. 
 As Tige says truly, 'Men must eat, 
 And cotton-bales were sorry meat."' 
 And while I freely grant to you 
 Whatever justice claims as due, 
 I cannot sink myself so low 
 To lie, when all men better know. 
 And what to mine is Cotton's power? 
 What to the oak the poppy's flower? 
 Behold the million acres given 
 To me, from whence yourself are driven — 
 Behold the tens of millions strown 
 Upon the IS^orthern hills alone ! 
 From Maine's far hills of hoary frost, 
 To Oregon's salubrious coast ; — 
 From mountain sides, whose summits high 
 Hold nightly converse with the sky, 
 Over the noble Keystone State, 
 To California's ' golden gate,' 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 157 
 
 Who holds with Corn divided sway ? 
 What power his potent hand can stay ? 
 A score of million freemen's hands 
 Turn up for him the willing lands, 
 And bend the knee to him alone 
 Which never bent to tyrant's throne. 
 Across the sea his vessels speed, 
 The old world's gaping mouths to feed, 
 Till gaunt Starvation backward shrinks. 
 And to his hole in silence slinks." 
 
 xxm. 
 
 " Then, Corn, if all this power be yours— 
 This boundless sway your tongue assures — 
 Why must your haughty fingers seek 
 To bind the foe you deem so weak 
 With tariffs high and laws unjust. 
 To aid your own remorseless lust ? 
 Why must your greedy hand arise 
 To land and sea monopolize. 
 And give to him no choice at all 
 But at your feet to humbly fall ? 
 And when that foe proclaimed him free 
 From rod of yours eternally, — 
 Following in the path you trod 
 To break from Britain's grinding rod, — 
 14 
 
158 CORN-HUSKS, 
 
 Claiming the right yourself first claimed, 
 Why quick and hot your anger flamed ? 
 Why raised you up the sword to spill 
 Your brother's blood on every hill ? — 
 Why went your soldiers down in floods, 
 To sweep the land with guiltless blood?" 
 
 xxrv. 
 
 Corn answered not ; his eyes- were fixed 
 
 Through green-roofed aisles the rows betwixt, 
 
 To see the forms he barely could 
 
 A furlong's length from where he stood. 
 
 The rustling stalks, that gently swayed 
 
 In the soft breeze the morning made. 
 
 Flecked all the ground with spots of light, 
 
 Which danced and swung before the sight ; 
 
 And through the openings half revealed. 
 
 By swinging corn-leaves half concealed, 
 
 A dozen moving forms were seen 
 
 Among the floods of fading green. 
 
 Upon their blades the sunlight danced 
 
 As through the air they gleamed and glanced. 
 
 Shooting the glistening streams of light 
 
 As shoot the [Northern spears at night. 
 
 A low and steady hum arose. 
 
 Mingled with quick and slashing blows, 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 159 
 
 And, broad behind, an open way 
 Marked where tlie path of slaughter lay. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 "Cotton," said Corn, deliberate — slow — 
 In tones full solemn, hushed, and low, 
 With eyes whose steady stare was kept 
 Upon the wave which nearer sv/ept, 
 "Cotton, that low and threatening hum 
 Proclaims to me my hour is come. 
 Yet, if I have a moment left 
 Ere yet I be by sickle cleft, 
 I'll strive to make a full reply 
 To question asked a moment by. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Time was, King Cotton, years ago. 
 When Corn knew not a single foe; 
 His kingdom stretched its boundaries far, 
 From Southern Cross to Northern Star, 
 And undisturbed, undared, alone, 
 For ages held his ancient throne. • 
 For this broad land was all his own ; 
 Hereon 'twas first from earth he sprung. 
 Here to the winds his banners flung, 
 
160 COEN-HIJSKS. 
 
 As told the J^orthwest wind to you 
 Long erst ; and, be the story true 
 Or false, no man to-day can tell — 
 JSTo tongue may break the silent spell — 
 No eye may find a certain track 
 To trace his birth through shadow back. 
 So let it pass; that here he grew, 
 Yourself and others always knew ; 
 He therefore holds, 'tis very clear, 
 A rightful sway by birthright here. 
 From distant lands he hath not crossed, 
 Whereon his dwelling-place was lost, 
 To seek another on the shore 
 Already held by rights of yore. 
 
 xxvn. 
 
 " One day, to find a western home, 
 Two ships came o'er the ocean's foam, — 
 The first of which King Cotton bore, 
 And Southward sailed to seek ^e shore. 
 The other felt its anchor shock 
 Against a hoary Northern rock, 
 And sent its wearied crew to seek 
 A home in forests wild and bleak. 
 Both found King Corn — a Sachem then- 
 The chief of brave and, hardy men. 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIMES. 161 
 
 Whose savage bosoms pity swayed 
 To give tlie feeble strangers aid. 
 And, first of all, they freely gave 
 Their great Mondamin's power to save, 
 Till Famine, howling, left alone 
 The prey he deemed almost his own. 
 
 xxvm. 
 
 " Thenceforth Eang Corn's dominions grew 
 Beyond what fiction ever knew; 
 His land, as yet a howling waste. 
 Saw lines of life and action traced 
 O'er every hill, till forests sank. 
 And cities marked the river's bank. 
 Yourself right well described, I ow^n, 
 A month ago, the Wast unknown' 
 Through which his friends, triumphant, boi^ 
 What flag shall float forevermore ; 
 And all the grand results you claim 
 To Cotton's power, and Cotton's name, 
 All grew, as all the world well knows, 
 From Corn's untiring, heavy blows. 
 But let it pass — it is not much ; 
 Perhaps the point again I'll touch. 
 But Corn, held in the white man's hand, 
 Saw towns and cities dot the land, • 
 14^ 
 
162 ' C0EN-HUSK8. 
 
 And, soon adopted, wore the sword, 
 And saw himself the white man's lord. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Time came when fonl Oppression crept 
 Across the sea while Freedom slept, 
 And wove a chain of iron stont 
 Her young and hardy limbs abont. 
 Then Corn and Cotton both nprose. 
 To join their hands 'gainst common foes. 
 And years of strife and horror bore, 
 Till every hill was drenched with gore. 
 Together locked, they struggled long 
 Against the tyrant, old and strong, 
 And saw their blood like water poured 
 To check the foe's devouring sword; — 
 Together fought, till Victory came 
 To light the land with other flame, 
 And, perched on banner battle-scarred. 
 Outstretched her golden wings, to guard 
 From foreign foeman's utmost might 
 The land, which lived in Freedom's light. 
 Thenceforth the proudest, happiest land 
 By sunlight kissed or breezes fanned, 
 At beck of Corn, stretched out and smiled 
 Beneath his sceptre soft and mild. 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 163 
 
 The old world heaved with labor stont 
 To spew its crowded millions out, 
 Who found them here a boundless field 
 For powers all cramped and nnrevealed; 
 And, flinging fetters from their hands, 
 Aided to build the dome which stands 
 The noWest work which earth can boast: 
 Fair Freedom's glad, protecting coast ! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "There came a change ; through all these years, 
 
 Unpulfed with pride — unscared by fears. 
 
 King Cotton's step had plodded slow. 
 
 And made no single man his foe. 
 
 King Corn and he no warfare knew ; 
 
 For each, to self and justice true. 
 
 Revered the Union's binding force. 
 
 Of vv-hich they both were equal source. 
 
 1^0 petty jangles came to jar 
 
 The nation's onv.^ard-roUing car. 
 
 Till despots shook with fearful dread. 
 
 And sullen hung each hating head. 
 
 Then canie a change — a wondrous change — 
 
 Herald of warfare fierce and strange! 
 
 The 'universal Yankee's' brain 
 
 Struck sudden on an un wrought vein, 
 
164 CORN-HUSKS. 
 
 And from liis fingers, in an hour, 
 Came fortli the type of awful power! 
 tKing Cotton started — rubbed his eyes 
 Like one who wakes in wild surprise, — 
 And, upward rising, launched to life 
 A long, and yet unfinished strife. 
 Ah ! who shall tell what bolts of wrath 
 Have smote the trees by Freedom's path — 
 What hands have torn her triumph arch, 
 And blocked Progression's forward march — 
 What tears shall be — what blood has been— 
 From Eli Whitney's Cotton-Gin ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Waked to a sense of sudden power. 
 King Cotton's eyes began to glower 
 With direful hate on him who, late, 
 Was like a brother and a mate. 
 Untaught by previous station low 
 To proper mind in higher show, 
 An arrogant, despotic pride 
 Took place of every thing beside ; 
 And all the ties which time had fepared. 
 Of common strifes and perils shared — 
 Of hours by hopes in common cheered, 
 And threatened dangers equal feared, 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 165 
 
 ."Were swept at once from Cotton's mind, 
 
 Leaving no single trace behind. 
 
 And there began, as well you know, 
 
 Full sixty years or more ago, 
 
 Tlie conflict long and terrible, 
 
 Well called the ' Irrepressible,' 
 
 Whose cup of wrath shall soon be full. 
 
 xxxn. 
 
 "King Cotton grasped — when did he less? — 
 With miser haste and eagerness, 
 At every foot of common soil 
 Which both had gained by equal toil ; — 
 And more : he turned his greedy eyes 
 To find in other lands a prize, 
 Provoking wars fiiU fierce and long. 
 Backed by the Union's armies strong, 
 To stretch his chains to farthest length. 
 And give himself increasing strength. 
 E-ight well you told, a month ago. 
 What wrath befell King Cotton's foe : — 
 ' The starry banner floats to claim 
 From all due reverence for his name, 
 Backed by a wall of ready steel, 
 Till every foe shall know and kneel ; 
 
166 COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 A thousand cannons bellow fire . 
 
 On him that waketh Cotton's ire.' 
 
 Ay, Cotton! and with deepest shame 
 
 Do I confess the charge you name ; 
 
 But fact hath seen and writ it ttiie: 
 
 The many knelt before the few. 
 
 For long, long years the nation's rod 
 
 But smote or spared at Cotton's nod; 
 
 And learned you soon, and learned you well, 
 
 To share your power with imps of Hell ! 
 
 xxxm. 
 
 " And yet, why pause to speak of all 
 
 The cursed work which marked your thrall — 
 
 Why trace the line of insults up 
 
 To this, the last and blackest cup. 
 
 By mile-stones, standing every one 
 
 To mark some deed of darkness done? 
 
 Wherever Cotton found his way, 
 
 And stretched his web of iron sway, 
 
 He left a shadow thick and black 
 
 Hanging above his blasting track ; — 
 
 A deadly snake, whose slimy coil 
 
 Blocked up the way of honest toil, 
 
 Till Corn awaked in wild alarm. 
 
 And raised protesting voice and arm ; 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 167 
 
 Yet meekly raised, and got alone 
 The pledge of half his rightful own, — 
 A solemn pledge, that it should be 
 From Slavery's foot forever free ; 
 Then flung away the blazing brand. 
 Which could not smite a brother's hand. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " Then years went by ; and greater grew 
 King Cotton's pride, and insults too; 
 Yet blacker grew the hate he bore, 
 Deep in his bosom's envious core, 
 To Corn, and all who owned his power, 
 Growing so fast each passing hour. 
 He saw his rival's boundaries reach 
 To far Pacific's fertile beach. 
 Calling to life, with every year, 
 New States upon the west frontier, 
 And passing o'er, with rapid stride, 
 The waiting prairies rich and wide. 
 Then Cotton turned him round about, 
 To seek some hellish system out 
 Whereby his hand might seize the land 
 Whereon himself could never stand — 
 
168 00KN-HU8KS. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "And did not wish: lie only sought 
 The power to nation's councils brought 
 By farther stretch of boundary-lines, 
 Pressing free labor's close confines. 
 He sought to fix a barrier fast 
 Against the E'orthern surges vast — 
 To roll them back to die and rot, 
 Close cramped in suffocating spot ; 
 He thought to see this prairie sod 
 By shackled feet in terror trod. 
 And heavy hoofs, with iron shod. 
 Ride down the imao^e of his God ! 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Ah, well-a-day ! tliat he should find 
 
 But one so base, degraded mind, 
 
 So void of conscience as to bring 
 
 Such draught from Hell's unfathomed spring 
 
 To wet his country's parching lip, 
 
 And give to mad destruction's grip ! 
 
 Alas ! how potent was the charm 
 
 Which thus could Kight and Truth disarm, 
 
 And bid thee give thy mighty breath 
 
 To aid this devilish imp of death 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 169 
 
 To smite the tender hand that nursed 
 
 « 
 
 With serpent's fang and flames accursed! 
 
 Alas, great Douglass ! This broad State 
 
 Had owned the greatest of her great, 
 
 Had not Ambition's surges dark 
 
 Blotted thy manhood's noble spark ! 
 
 Had not thy soaring wing been clipped 
 
 By lying pledge by Cotton lipped ! 
 
 How well that life a moment stayed 
 
 To show your hand the A^Teck it made, 
 
 And wring Remorse's bitter prayer 
 
 To sheathe the sword you sharpened bare — 
 
 To crush your handiwork, and spare! 
 
 xxxvn. 
 
 " 'Twas done at last — the vow was broke 
 
 The N'orth from trusting slumber woke — 
 Woke but to find herself betrayed, 
 And foes to boast the ruin made. 
 And then, with dust upon his head, 
 Trampled beneath King Cotton's tread, 
 Corn stretched a silent, patient hand, 
 To loose the chains from off his land. 
 Long years went by, and still he toiled 
 To crush the hissing monster coiled 
 15 
 
170 CORN -HUSKS. 
 
 Across his path, a barrier set, 
 Contracting closer — closer yet. 
 He waked a hundred glorions names, 
 Whose tongues were clothed with lightning 
 
 flames. 
 To scorch the wrong with awful might, 
 And bring the hidden truth to light. 
 From Sumner's mouth and Greeley's pen 
 He cried aloud the Rights of Men, 
 And bade Ohio's war-horse champ 
 Around about the foemen's camp. 
 Filling with fear, which only grew 
 To see the blade" which Seward dreW. 
 These prairies caught the rolling fire, 
 So like their own, and wafted higher, 
 Till here Kins; Corn discovered him 
 Whose hand should smite the foeman grim ; 
 He saw the nation threatening rolled 
 Beneath Buchanan's feeble hold — 
 He placed the helm in Lincoln's grip. 
 And bade him save the sinking ship ! 
 
 xxxvm. 
 
 ^' Hark to the swelling shout which springs 
 Upon a thousand breezes' wings. 
 
A POEM FOE THE TIMES. 171 
 
 Rolling from far Pacific's shore 
 To mock Atlantic's sullen roar ! 
 Quaking the earth beneath its tread, 
 As o'er a waking earthquake's head ! 
 Hark to the cry — the magic three, 
 In tones that swell like sounding sea — 
 Oi' Lincoln! Freedom! Yictory !' 
 Behold the rollino- billows foam 
 Above the trembling traitor's home, 
 Bearing the boat where Lincoln rides 
 As safe as borne on gentlest tides — 
 Wafting it over every surge. 
 And pait destruction's gaping verge, 
 Till, safely moored on farther strand. 
 The nation's sceptre owned his hand. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 '"And owned for what? A dozen States 
 Glared like the convict through his grates, 
 And ten(^^) the flag of Freedom trod 
 'I^eath traitor feet on Slavery's sod. 
 Ten thousand swords were glistening bright 
 'JS^eath scowling eyes of vengeful light. 
 Plotting in sullen groups apart 
 To feel their way to Freedom's heart ! 
 
172 C0KN-HUSK8. 
 
 King Cotton, baffled in his plot, 
 Had roused liis anger flaming hot, 
 And sudden raised the torch on high, 
 With ' Rule or Ruin' for his cry — 
 He rent the flag to which he swore 
 Eternal love the day before, 
 And called around his* hounds of Hell 
 To hoot in triumph when it fell, 
 And swear it never more should w^ave 
 Except above his nation's grave. 
 And then, by long forbearance stung, - 
 The bloody flag to breezes flung. 
 And bade the iron shower to fall 
 And blast the men of Sumter's wall. 
 
 XL. 
 
 '^ And ' Honest Abe' — God help him now I 
 Must Freedom, mute and tearful, bow 
 To meet the axe which ready stands. 
 And find no strong, supporting hands ? 
 Must he behold his country thrust 
 At once to lowest, meanest dust. 
 Rent limb from limb and drenched with gore, 
 And meanly break the oath he swore? 
 Behold him raise, that strength be given, 
 An honest hand to righteous heaven — 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 173 
 
 Behold him kneel, and plead, and pray 
 To fling the bloody sword away — 
 By all the ties of common blood, 
 Of victories WTonght and foes withstood, 
 Of common interests — common birth, 
 To tear their traitor flag to earth ! 
 Then, roused to see the nation bleed 
 By this, the last and damning deed, 
 Behold him rise, with gathering frown. 
 To strike the hellish traitors down ! — 
 Stretch forth his awful, hanging rod, 
 Armed with the seal of Freedom's God, 
 Proclaiming fire, and woe, and death, 
 And war's devouring, flaming breath. 
 Till every hill's deep core is riven 
 To hear its wheels in thunder driven! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 " You know the rest — ah ! know too well 
 How devastation's firebrands fell. 
 When from the mad, insulted JSTorth, 
 Just vengeance poured his armies forth. 
 And marked for each a fearful track. 
 Besmeared with blood and ruins black ! 
 Yourself have seen the awful tide 
 Roll onward by. Potomac's side, 
 15^ 
 
1T4 CORN-HUSKQ. 
 
 When Bull Eim drank tlie first fierce flood, 
 And choked itself with reeking blood ; — 
 The wave which reached from Fort Monroe 
 To Harper's Ferry's streets of woe; 
 Yourself have gazed with frighted soul 
 To see its surges Southward roll, 
 Blasting the Old Dominion's face, 
 Till Peace could hardly find a trace 
 Of all the works her hands have reared 
 'Beneath the flag by tyrants feared. 
 She sees the shrines of every age 
 O'erthrown by war's terrific rage, 
 And fields, where fire and death have reaped, 
 Leaving the grain promiscuous heaped. 
 Eternal record there to make 
 Of Cotton's lie and men's mistake! 
 
 xLn. 
 
 *' Behold to-day your native land 
 Beneath one vast and blazing brand! 
 Behold fierce war's destructive flame 
 Sweep every State your tongue can name ! 
 Behold your cities, almost all. 
 Prostrate beneath your rival's thrall, 
 "With half your land securely held. 
 And all resistance therein quelled. 
 
A POEM FOK THE TIMES. 175 
 
 One solitary fortress stands 
 As yet nntorn from Cotton's bands, 
 To snllen watch the turbid wave 
 Wherein his fleet hath found a grave — 
 Stands yet a little while to mock 
 The patient spade and mortar's shock, 
 And only thus; short time shall see 
 Thy ramparts, Yicksburg, yield to me. 
 "No other cannon's voice can cry 
 Against the boat which passes by; 
 And soon shall Mississippi's flood 
 Wash^ from its shore the stain of bluod, 
 And know no open hostile force 
 From Sonthern mouth to J^orthern source. 
 Keleased at last from Cotton's chain, 
 Its valley smiles w^ith light again, 
 Trembling with joy to see the morn 
 Lighten its belts of waving corn ! 
 
 XLin. 
 
 "From Richmond's black and bloody walls 
 King Cotton's watchman feebly calls 
 On ancient foes to haste and save, 
 Or send their spades to dig his grave, — 
 'With loud, despairing, desperate cry, 
 For aid — for aid — before he die. 
 
ib COEN-HUSKS. 
 
 He points to camps which held at night 
 
 Two hundred thousand men of might, 
 
 Then, shuddering, turns from plains awaj 
 
 Where half at morning rotting lay. 
 
 He sees King Cotton's valleys drained 
 
 Of every soldier they contained, 
 
 And mustered by King Davis' hand 
 
 To make a last and desperate stand ; 
 
 And yet McClellan hovers nigh, 
 
 Darkening all the eastern sky, 
 
 While Pope sends down from western hills 
 
 A breeze which breeds but ague chills. 
 
 And both may pounce at any hour. 
 
 And blot from earth his tottering power. 
 
 Beware, King Cotton! Ere the snows 
 
 Shall lull the hills to long repose, 
 
 Shall Kichmond's halls be glowing bright 
 
 Beneath the starry banner's light, 
 
 Or, low in ashes, drenched with blood, 
 
 Mark where damnation's city stood! 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 "Ay, great King Cotton — king no more — 
 Destruction opens wide the door. 
 And hands of might, with impish grin, 
 Await the word to plunge you in I 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 17T 
 
 The power political joii held — 
 
 The power which every rival quelled — 
 
 Hath found your heart with sting of asp, 
 
 And gone forever from your grasp. 
 
 No more shall men their homage bring, 
 
 With songs and wreaths to crown you king — 
 
 'No more your haughty feet shall tread 
 
 Upon the nation's bended head. 
 
 Just retribution teareth now 
 
 The lying crown from off your brow, 
 
 And placeth it where Heaven meant. 
 
 In wise creation's true intent." 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Corn bowed his head ; a moment bright 
 
 The sickle flashed in morjiing light — 
 
 Upraised, an instant dazzling shone, 
 
 Then fell — and Cotton stood alone! 
 
 While on the winds, w^hose breathing brought 
 
 A dying rustle, faintly caught, 
 
 With lirm and joyous bounds along 
 
 Was borne the reapers' harvest song : 
 
178 coRN-nusKS. 
 
 1. 
 
 "HxjRRATi! Imrrali! for tlie blades ^e draw, 
 And tlie strokes tliey deal to famine's claw — 
 For the arms that swing till the earth shall ring 
 With the triumph shouts of her rightful king ! 
 Far and high as the sunbeams fly. 
 Fling to the winds his battle-cry ! 
 Bright as the morn when the day is born, 
 Wreathe you a crown for old Kma Corn! 
 
 Hurrah for King Corn! 
 
 Till the seas shall list to the story ^ ■ 
 And every land on their storm-heat strand 
 
 GroiDS hright in the light of his glory ! 
 
 % 
 
 "We do not care for the tongues that swear 
 Their faithless vows at another's glare; 
 And less care we if the servile knee 
 Shall down at the shrine of the despot be : 
 Each blade we draw with a wild hurrah, 
 To gladly feed each hungry maw 
 
A POEM FOR THE TIMES. 179 
 
 Whicli kneels forlorn, till the plenteous horn 
 Tips from the hand of old King Corn ! 
 Hurrah for King Corn ! 
 
 Till the seas shall list to the story, 
 And every land on their storm-'beat strand 
 Groios hright in the light of his glory ! 
 
 " King Corn shall smile though his foes revile, 
 And draw no sword till their tongues beguile 
 The fair young bride who stands by his side, 
 Bright with the crown his hands have tied: 
 Fierce is the wrath whose flame shall scath 
 The foe that stands in Freedom's path ! 
 Sharp is the thorn for him whose scorn ' 
 Falls on the bride of old King Corn ! 
 
 Hurrah for King Corn! 
 
 Till the seas shall list to the story, 
 
 And every land on their storm-heal strand 
 Grows hrighl in the light of his glory ! 
 
 4. 
 
 " Our brows are wet with the drops of sweat 
 Which Com thereon for a crov\^n hath set; 
 And the sun-browned hands that reap his lands 
 Shall share his rule by his high commands. 
 
180 COEN-HtrSKS. 
 
 Toil we then for the Kights of Men, 
 Till Wrong shall fall to the dust again — 
 Till Freedom's morn shall the earth adorn, 
 Waked by the hand of old Kixg Corn ! 
 Hurrah for King Coen ! 
 
 Till the seas shall list to the story ^ 
 And every land on their storm-heat strand 
 Grows bright in the light of his glory /" 
 
 END OF CANTO IV. 
 
NOTES 
 
 16 
 
I^ OTE S. 
 
 (1.)— Page 21. 
 This Expedition went up the Tennessee River as far as Flor- 
 ence, Alabama, in February, 1862, a day or two after the surren- 
 der of Fort Henry. A railroad bridge and a quantity of military 
 stores were destroyed, and some cotton seized, which I take the 
 Uberty to suppose on board the Tyler^ at the battle of Eittsburg 
 Landing. The officer in command reported considerable Union 
 feeling along the river, many persons " shedding tears of joy at 
 the sight of the 'Star-Spangled Banner,' which had not been 
 seen in Florence for nearly a year." 
 
 (2.)— Page 23. 
 
 One of the most complete surprises of the war commenced this 
 battle. "No pickets, it is said, were ever posted in front of 
 General Prentiss' Division, though bodies of- the enemy were 
 
 known to be prowling in that direction At two 
 
 o'clock this morning (April 6th) Colonel Peabody, fearing that all 
 was not right, despatched a body of four hundred men beyond 
 the camp, to look after any force which might be lurking in that 
 vicinity. Tlie step was wisely taken, for a half-mile's advance 
 showed a heavy force approaching, who fired upon them, with 
 great slaughter. Those who escaped fell back to the Twenty-fifth 
 
184 NOTES. 
 
 Missouri, swiftly pursued by the enemy, whose advance reached 
 the brigade of Colonel Peabody just as the long roll was sounded, 
 and the men were falling into line. Their resistance, taken so 
 unawares, was of short duration, and they retreated in as good 
 order as possible under a galling fire, till they reached the lines 
 of the Second Division," one of whose regiments "knew nothing 
 of the approach of the enemy till they were in their midst, firing 
 into their tents and applying the torch as they came. . . . 
 By "six o'clock the attack had become general along the entire 
 front." 
 
 Throughout, I have adhered as closely as possible to the 
 description of the battle as given by the correspondent of the 
 Cincinnati Commercial. 
 
 (3.)— Page 33. 
 
 "As I sit to-night, writing this epistle, the dead and wounded 
 are aU around me. The knife of the surgeon is busy at work, 
 and amputated limbs lie in all directions. All day long the 
 wounded have been coming in, and are placed on the decks and 
 within tlie cabins of steamers, or wherever they can find a 
 resting-place. I hope my eyes may never again behold such 
 sights !" — Correspondent from lattle-field. 
 
 Another writes: "At one of the old houses at the Landing, 
 which was used as a hospital, the heap of amputated limbs which 
 were thrown through the window reached to the window-sill .'" 
 
 (4.)— Page 35. 
 
 A correspondent from the field of Fort Donelson writes: 
 " Many of the men became perfectly frantic, and rushed madly 
 forward, even beyond the rifle-pits, and fell fighting single-handed 
 among thousands of foes .'" 
 
NOTES. 185 
 
 Another, from Pittsburg Landing : " Dead bodies in the woods, 
 and dead and dying in tlie fields, lying in every conceivable 
 shape, met the gaze on. either hand. Some lay on their backs, 
 with their clinched hands, raised at arm's length, upright in 
 the air." 
 
 (5.)— Page 43. 
 
 A parallel to the mildness of Cotton's tone, soon after his cap- 
 ture and transportation to Xorthern soil, and the native arrogance 
 which afterwards returns, may bo found in the conduct of the 
 prisoners of Fort Donelson, after a short residence in the camps 
 in which they were confined at Chicago, Indianapolis, and Cin- 
 cinnati, Silent and sullen at first, their insolent boldness in 
 proclaiming their secession sympathies finally became almost 
 unbearable to their guards, and the people of the neighborhood. 
 
 (6.)— Page 50. 
 
 Let the Rag-weed i:)ersonify, to the mind of the reader, tlie 
 dough-faced apologists of secession in the Northern States, 
 usually the lowest and most worthless of the population, and for 
 whom the friends of the Slave Power always discover a sudden 
 and strong liking as soon as their sentiments are made known. 
 May we not hope that their end may be even like unto his, and 
 that right speedily ? 
 
 (8.)— Page 77. 
 
 I believe it is the general opinion of those who have investiga- 
 ted the subject, that Wheat and Cotton both originated in south- 
 ern or southwestern Asia; hence the propriety of introducing 
 them under the peculiar circumstance of the "Legend of King 
 Kau-ton." 
 
 16^ 
 
186 NOTES. 
 
 (9.)— Page 83. 
 It is a notion very generally held, tliat so utter is the repugnance 
 of the rattlesnake to the leaves of the White Ash, that it will 
 pass over live coals of fire in preference to them ; and a number 
 of instances are on record of experiments which seemed to prove 
 it ; — all of which are not fully authenticated, and still leave the 
 question one of doubt. It is to be hoped that scientific men will 
 soon settle the point beyond dispute, for it certainly belongs to 
 the class of " curious, if truey 
 
 (10.)— Page 114. 
 
 If any person be inclined to doubt that the doctrines, here 
 avowed by King Cotton, are those held by the leaders of this 
 Rebellion, or to consider the boldness with which they are pro- 
 mulgated an exaggeration, he is respectfully referred to the 
 Louisville Courier — a paper suppressed at home for treason, re- 
 vived a,t Bowling Green, and removed at last to Nashville, where 
 it died when the Rebels evacuated the city, and where it put forth 
 the following refreshing theory of the Rebellion : 
 
 " This has been called a fratricidal war by some ; by others, an 
 irrepressible conflict between Freedom and Slavery. "We respect- 
 fully take issue with the authors of both these ideas. We are 
 not the brothers of the Yankees, and the slavery question is 
 merely the pretext, not the cause, of the war. The true irre- 
 pressible conflict lies fundamentally in the hereditary hostility, the 
 sacred animosity, the eternal antagonism, between the two races 
 engaged. 
 
 ■• The Norman Cavalier cannot brook the insolent familiarity 
 of the Saxon Yankee, while the latter is continually devising some 
 plan to bring his aristocratic neighbor down to his own detested 
 level. This was the contest waged in the old United States. So 
 
NOTES. 187 
 
 long as Dickinson doug"h.-fac3s were to be bought and Cochrane 
 cowards frightened, so long was the Union tolerable to Southern 
 men ; but when, owing to divisions in our ranks, the Yankee 
 hirelings placed one of their own spawn over us, political con- 
 nection became unendurable, and separation necessary to preserve 
 our self-respect. 
 
 "As our Norman kinsmen in England, always a minoritj, have 
 ruled their Saxon countrymen in political vassalage up to the 
 present day, so have loa, the ' slave oligarchs,'' governed the Yankees 
 tillioWim a tioelve-monih. We framed the Constitution, for seventy 
 years moulded the policy of the Government, and placed our own 
 men, or ' Northern men with Southern principles,' in power. 
 
 " On the Gth of November, 1860, the Puritans emancipated 
 themselves, and are now in violent insurrection against their former 
 owners. This insane holiday freak will not last long, however, 
 for, dastards in fight, and incapable of self-government, they will 
 inevitably again fall under the control of the superior race. A few 
 more Bull Run thrashings will bring them once more under the 
 yoke, as docile as the most loyal of our Ethiopian 'chattels.' " 
 
 (11.)— Page 114. 
 
 The first flag of rebellion — that of South Carolina — bore for its 
 device the figure of a Palmetto-tree, with a rattlesnake winding 
 around it. Pit emblem 1 
 
 (12.)— Page 117. 
 
 The precise date of this occurrence has escaped me, but I think 
 it was in March, 1861, that the Commissioners of the "C. S. A." 
 called on Governor Hicks, of Maryland, to persuade him to call a 
 convention. The Governor rather hesitated. "But," said one 
 
188 NOTES. 
 
 of them, " you must remember, Governor Hicks, that ' Cotton is 
 kingP''^ Drawing himself up to his full height, the noble old 
 patriot sternly replied: "Go back, Sir, and tell King Cotton Fll 
 see him in Hell before he rules me or my State 1" 
 
 (13.)— Page 118. 
 
 The First Regiment Maryland Volunteers, Colonel Kenly, was 
 surprised and attacked near Front Royal, Va., May 24, 1862, by a 
 large rebel force under General Turner Ashby, and completely cut 
 to pieces before re-enforcements could arrive. The few men who 
 escaped reported the utmost inhumanity and ferocity on the part 
 of the " chivalry," " On a third approach of Ashby, he displayed 
 a white flag till within pistol range, and Colonel Kenly ordered to 
 cease tiring. The white flag was then thrown down, and the 
 enemy rushed on our troops, cutting and slashing, and refusing 
 all quarter. The ivounded luere despatched without mercyy 
 
 Notwithstanding that General Banks was "credibly informed 
 and would gladly believe that the atrocities said to have been per- 
 petrated on our wounded are greatly exaggerated or entirely un- 
 true," and that a "respectable citizen of Baltimore." who 
 "escaped from Winchester," declares that "the many rumors 
 which we have received with regard to the treatment of this 
 regiment are altogether unfounded," there is good evidence that 
 the Rebels do entertain a pe-Mdiar, malignant hate against the 
 Union troops of the border States, who they imagine should be 
 with them ; and that this fiendish feeling was exhibited to a 
 great extent in the attack on tlie loyal Marylanders at Front 
 Royal. 
 
NOTES. 189 
 
 (14.)— Page 138. 
 
 Early in May, 1S62, soon after taking possession of the city. 
 General Butler distributed one tJiousand barrels^ of government flour 
 to the starving poor of New Orleans, -whose fathers and husbands 
 were mostly in the Rebel army. 
 
 (15.)— Page 143. 
 
 Hundreds of rude crosses, along the roadsides of Spain, Italy, 
 and Mexico, reared by tlie superstitious peasants, mark the spot 
 where travellers have been robbed and murdered by highway- 
 men and gueriUas. 
 
 (16.)— Page 147. 
 
 At Grenada, Miss., soon after the evacuation of Corinth, Beau- 
 regard is said to have declared that there would be no more 
 regular war in the Southwest — it should henceforth be a war of 
 guerillas. 
 
 (17.)— Page 149. 
 
 "St. Louis, June 22. — General Schofield, commanding the Fede- 
 ral forces in Missouri, has issued an order, holding the rebels and 
 rebel sympathizers responsible in their property, and, if need 
 be, in their persons, for damages hereafter committed by gae- 
 rillas or marauding parties in this State. Five thousand dollars 
 will be exacted for every soldier or Union citizen killed ; from oua 
 to five thousand dollars for every one wounded ; and the full value 
 of all property destroyed or stolen by guerillas will be assessed 
 and collected from the class of persons above mentioned residing 
 in the vicinity of the place where the act may be committed. The 
 sums thus collected will be paid to the legal heirs of the soldier 
 
190 NOTES. 
 
 or citizen killed, or to the person wounded, or to the rightful 
 owner of the property destroyed or stolen. This order is very 
 stringsut, and abundant machinary is provided to carry it into 
 speedy effect." — Telegram. 
 
 Again: Gleneral Mitchell, while at Iluntsville, Ala., captured 
 several of the guerillas and bridge-burners v/ho had 'annoyed 
 his army for some time, and telegraphed to the Secretary of "War 
 to know what should be done with them. Stanton's reply was 
 brief and explicit: " Let them swing P^ 
 
 (18.)— Page 153. 
 
 "Results have sadly proved that if Breckinridge had been 
 elected, four years more would have found the free States without 
 a country, save that which is controlled by the institution of 
 slavery. The rebellion of 1861-'62 is the voice of the devil pro- 
 claiming that, in the event of the election of Breckinridge in 
 1860, four years more loould have found us a Slave Monarchy!" — 
 John W. Forney. 
 
 This point is fully elucidated in Canto III., Sec. XXYII. 
 
 (19.)— Page ITI. 
 
 In this estimate I do nof include Virginia, in which State' alone 
 of the seceded eleven, do I believe that a majority of the people 
 were in favor of the Union. There is little doubt as to the rest, 
 
NOTES. 
 
 191 
 
 (20.)— Page 178. 
 
 This song may be sung to an air wliich I know only as '• Hi, 
 farmers, ho!" the soprano of which runs about as follows : 
 
 4^:— 
 
 -4. :_._.>,._i=3-=3=zi:'=|E^V=:^gi=d=:zE 
 
 Hnr - rah ! hnr - rah, for the blades we draw, 
 For the arms that swing till the earth shall ring 
 
 ^m^m 
 
 And the strokes they deal to Fam - ine' s claw ! 
 "With the tri - umph -shouts of hei' right - ful king! 
 
 :::?;=?=^=f=g?=j=:3_^^ 
 
 
 11 
 
 Far and high as the sunbeams fly, Fling to the winds his 
 Bright as the morn when the day is born,Wreathe you a crown for 
 
 i 
 
 
 3; 
 
 bat - tie cry ! 
 
 old King Corn ! \ Hur - rah for King Corn ! Till 
 
 the seas shall list to the sto - ry, And ev - ery land 
 
 on their storm-beat strand Grows bright in the light ot his glory. 
 
 ^ _H -tf— ^ * 
 
 THE EXD, 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ..iiiJlillilllllllliii 
 
 018 597 070 A 
 
 mm 
 
 mmmm 
 
 
 
 45»>»: 
 
 .%%%i\%\w