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 DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 
 
 S. G. W. BENJAMIN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 
 
 134, Washinoton StkekV. 
 
 1865. 
 
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 DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 
 
 S. G. W. BENJAMIN. 
 
 mm 
 
 BOSTON:-' 
 WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 
 
 i:^. WaSTUNI'TON Rtt^kv.t. 
 
BOSTON: 
 PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
 
 15, Water Street. 
 

 The first draught of these lines appeared in the 
 " New- York Independent." As they may respond, 
 in a slight degree, to the popular sentiment at this 
 time, a few copies have been issued in the present 
 form, with some changes and additions. 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 With a noble nature and great gifts 
 
 Was he endowed, — courage, discretion, wit, 
 
 An equal temper and an ample soul, 
 
 Rock-bound and fortified against assaults 
 
 Of transitory passion, but below 
 
 Built on a surging subterranean fire 
 
 That stirred and lifted him to high attempts. 
 
 Wherefore with honor lay him in his grave." 
 
 Philip Van Artavelde. 
 
O D E. 
 
 1. 
 
 1" ET the nation weep, 
 ""^ As they bear the martyr 
 To his hist, long sleep ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Ay, let the nation weep ! 
 Another such as lie 
 We never more shall see 
 This side eternity. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ay, let the nation weep ! 
 And let the slow bells toll 
 For the noblest soul 
 
That ever dwelt in man, 
 
 Or ever led the van 
 
 Of Freedom's hosts to victory, 
 
 And rang the charge of Liberty ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Well may the nation w^eep, 
 
 And shudder at the stroke 
 
 That all their slumbering wrath awoke. 
 
 O wretch accurst, whose impious hand could dare 
 
 To smite the leader of the people's choice. 
 
 Or seek to harm a single hair 
 
 Of him whose heart, whose hand, whose voice, 
 
 Were all employed to work the people's good. 
 
 And stop the flow of fratricidal blood ! 
 
 And O, ye modern Pharaohs, ye whose gold 
 
 Was gathered by the souls ye bred and bought and 
 
 sold, — 
 Ye, that, heedless of the warning signs of God, 
 
Sought to bring again the Iron age, 
 
 To imbrute the human body, and to cage 
 
 The soaring spirit of mankind ! 
 
 Your hearts were stone, your eyes were blind, 
 
 And ye defied 
 
 The Almighty in your pride ! 
 
 We ask no more, — we know that God is just ; 
 
 Only let not the sword of Justice rust ; 
 
 We ask no more, — the bolt that hurled 
 
 Our country's saviour to the dust 
 
 Made you a mockery and a byword to the world ! 
 
 V. 
 
 And him, the good, the great, 
 Crowned by a martyr's fate. 
 What words can fitly utter forth 
 His manly virtues and his worth ? 
 Perchance he did not seem 
 So great to those who deem 
 
8 
 
 A traitor or a Nero 
 
 May be a glorious hero, 
 
 If he but wear a classic face, 
 
 Or ape the superficial grace 
 
 That marks the scion of a titled race. 
 
 Not such was he for whom we mourn ; 
 
 Of gentle blood he was not born, 
 
 Nor heir to patrimonial lands 
 
 Tilled by the bondman's unrequited hands. 
 
 He inherited a heart, 
 
 As an infant's, void of art ; 
 
 Yet imbued with a Titanic might, 
 
 In his hate of wrong, his love of right : 
 
 His was the celestial beauty 
 
 Of a soul that does its duty. 
 
 Noble patriot, husband, father. 
 
 He did not seek to gather 
 
 The laurels of a wild ambition. 
 
 That only yield a vain fruition. 
 
 To benefit mankind, — this was his aim ; 
 
To labor and to live unstained with blame : 
 
 He died without a blot upon his name. 
 
 Let a requiem sublime 
 
 Ascend from every clime I 
 
 Let the weary and oppressed, 
 
 From north and south, from east and west, 
 
 For whom his great heart yearned, 
 
 For whom his spirit burned. 
 
 To give their sufferings rest, — 
 
 Let all arise with lamentation, 
 
 And, with his own beloved nation. 
 
 Bequeath the fame 
 
 Of Lincoln's name — 
 
 A heritage for veneration — 
 
 To the remotest ofeneration ! 
 
 VL 
 
 Ay, let the nation weep. 
 While the slow bells toll, 
 
10 
 
 And the cannon roll, 
 
 For the funeral knoll 
 
 Of his mighty soul ! 
 
 Ye cannot break the slumber deep 
 
 That wraps his limbs in quiet sleep ; 
 
 He cannot hear 
 
 The crowds that tread 
 
 Around his bier, 
 
 Nor see the tears they shed : 
 
 For he nevermore shall dwell 
 
 With the people that he loved so well. 
 
 Let the nation's sorrow have its way 
 
 For him who was the nation's stay ! 
 
 YII. 
 
 Our hearts are sad, our eyes are dim ; 
 We hoped long years of rest for him, 
 To enjoy the peace for which he wrought. 
 The peace with his own life-blood bought. 
 
11 
 
 But he has rest 
 Among the blest, 
 And with the Christ he loved. 
 Enough ! his work was done ; 
 The victor's crown was won ; 
 And God himself removed 
 The patriot-martyr to his home. 
 Enough ! his task was done ; 
 For us remains to guard his tomb, 
 
 To bid the willow wave 
 
 Around the sacred grave 
 
 Of him who loosed the slave. 
 
 And weave the fame 
 
 Of Lincoln's name 
 
 With Washington's renown, — 
 
 Twin stars of glory, 
 
 Unftidino^ in our nation's story. 
 
12 
 
 VIII. 
 
 His work is done ; 
 
 Ou7' work is scarce beoun : 
 
 ' Tis ours to keep the nation that was saved 
 
 By his untiring zeal and earnest toil, 
 
 And by the valor of the hosts that braved 
 
 The cannon's shot, and sleep beneatli the soil ; 
 
 'Tis ours to plant the school, to teach the rising 
 
 youth 
 Of every hue, in every hamlet of the South ; 
 To instruct and elevate the public mind. 
 And show the last-discovered problem to mankind. 
 That Reason's sway outlives the tyrant's power. 
 That Liberty gives strength, and might makes right 
 
 no more. 
 jS^o longer let the demagogue with bribes, 
 With brazen face and lying diatribes, 
 Juggle votes from every facile fool 
 
13 
 
 Whose unlettered brain becomes the tool 
 
 For schemes of avarice and misrule. 
 
 Let loftier motives than the love of self, 
 
 The greed for gold, for place, for power and pelf. 
 
 Direct the people to their truest gain. 
 
 Hasten the years when all who vote can read. 
 
 When all refuse their ignorance to plead. 
 
 And hate of evil is the universal creed. 
 So shall we honor best the liallowed graves 
 Upon a hundred fields of battle, where the waves 
 Of treason dashed against our ship of state. 
 Dashed with crimson foam, but dashed in vain ; 
 So shall we heed the warning voice of him 
 Whose name, unsullied by the hand of Fate, 
 Shall be a household word in every clime 
 When kings are obsolete, when diadems grow dim, 
 And empires, palsy - stricken, plunge adown the 
 abvss of time. 
 
14 
 
 IX. 
 
 Let his monument arise, 
 
 Pointing upward to the skies, 
 
 Founded by a nation's heart, 
 
 Grandly shaped in every part 
 
 By the master-minds of art, 
 
 And consecrated by a nation's tears, 
 
 To teach throughout the after-time, 
 
 To every tribe, in every clime, 
 
 That toil for others is sublime. 
 
 Immortal Patriot ! through the mist of years 
 
 That in the future are to come, — 
 
 When we who saw thee here are gone, — 
 
 We view thy heaven-aspiring tomb 
 
 Illumined by the roseate dawn 
 
 Of the millennial day. 
 
 When Peace shall hold her sway. 
 
 And bring Saturnian eras ; when the roar 
 
15 
 
 O' the battle's thunder shall be heard no more ; 
 When Liberty and Truth shall reign for evermore, 
 From Oregon to Florida's perpetual May, 
 From Shasta's awful peak to Massachusetts Bay, — 
 Then our children's children, by the cottage door. 
 In the schoolroom, from the pulpit, at the bar. 
 Shall look up to thee as to a beacon star. 
 And deduce the lesson from thy life and death. 
 That the patriot's lofty courage and the Christian's 
 
 faith 
 Conquer honors that outweigh Ambition's gaudiest 
 
 prize. 
 Triumph o'er the grave, and open the gates of Para- 
 dise. 
 
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