mi ^^■r&^^^f^M. kiBRARY OF CONGRESS.! # : # I <^A/.?.s.aaj I \ UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f ^ A /©y 17 X r^!f.jf \m^ I^AA^v-> 'r<'0'J^r\ ryi^Oi.^.'^- M~ w^vrjm: 7 inMQ, A .A ,- o, , sAA/^ R^-A^ '/^/*\/^/^, WBBk Rfif^MdM AAA 'm«A2'2 e last,. yet the noblest of time." He said, and as the parrie d lance^ In tilt or tournament may glan^ce, As shadows oft around us play, While still we view the solar rayV- As tidings may unlooked for come- To shroud in gloom the joyous h ome'i So he, thus rapt in pride of feeling*? Hope, yet her cheering smiles revei ''IsBf » His eye, still resting on the leaf Of Freedom's history, bright thio' brief. Like cloud upon cerulean skies. That threatens desolating showfir. Beheld a war-plumed spectre rise To gird itself in robes of power ; And thus it frown'd upon the free, " I take responsibility." It was a spectre of the age Its haunt a western hermitage, 16 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! And like a herald of the Pope, Whose promise but deludes the hope, Like harbinger of coming joys. Whose erring flattery decoys, It left those western shades elate. To perch upon the throne of state. And like the spirit of the cloud. That throws o'er all things bright a shroud, Like meteor of no certain form. Presaging some disastrous storm ; A hollow voice from ocean's wail. Precursor of approaching gale ; Or mildew on the blooming plain, To rust the grass and blight the grain, It rested on that sceptre free, A bird of evil destiny ; Regardless of the sullied fame, That must await young Freedom's name. To broils and battles, fields of danger. To feats of arms, it was no stranger. For like some messenger of wrath To scourge the Britain in his path, Or like the fal^^on in his pride. With some pluck i eagle as a guide, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 17 Like lion pouncing on his prey Some jackal leading on the way, A martial guardian, rashly good, It oft on victory's brow had stood ; And history still doth tell the story Of laurel crowns and deeds of glory. But as the ship may storms outride, Still spreading sails untorn with pride, While he, who guides the tempest thro', Knows when and where and how to do. Yet breakers soon that bark overwhelm, If skilless pilot take the helm ; So did our nation pass thro' wars, And gather glory with few scars. So did the " Union" her sails spread. While men of skill her counsels led ; But when he grasp'd her helm of power, Around the state dark clouds did lower ; For then, like auguries of yore. Events their shadows cast before. Yes, as the frost in early spring Doth nip the buds ere blossoming, As icy coldness in the breeze Doth chill the plant and blast the trees, 2' 18 O TEMPORA ! O mores! As vermin clustered on thestem, Doth soil the leaf and spoil the gem, That autumn's groves and summer's bowers Are thus foreshorn of fruits and flowers ; So did Old Hickory, time hath said it. Destroy both home and foreign credit, And doom the country, on the morrow. To debt, to danger, and to sorrow. Her gloom was like her wonted glory. And thus we have the Patriot's story — " Once there were seasons When good men might slumber. Wants had their reasons, And evil deeds number ; Faith on bright pinions Hail'd virtue in station, While sycophant mmions Were not of our nation : Honour and duty Were counted our glory, Plunder and booty The dark things of story ; Lawyers were worsted. Each truth had its teaching, O TEMPORA ! O mores! 19 The clergy were trusted, We had honest preaching ; Hearts then were single, The free wore no collar, Or quailed to hear jingle The "almighty dollar." They trusted in no luck. In stocks none played gammon, They nor bowed to Moloch, Or yet worship'd Mammon. The hair-brain decision That all wealth is money. Was hail'd like the vision That sweet is but honey ; They govern'd ambition. For honesty kept her Where law gave permission To use purse or sceptre." He paused, and yet a look reveal'd Far more than words had unconcealed. He saw that men of foreign boast In threat'ning aspect throng'd the coast ; 20 O TEMPORA ! MORES ! That Freedom's home was growhig rife With error and with reckless strife ; That men in place of elevation Were but the tools of mere dictation, And rogues indeed, nor yet a few, Were clothed with powers to honor due ; That partisans, the " Hickory Foxes," Would even steal the ballot boxes ; While truth and justice, law and reason. In politics, were out of season. Then turning to the social round. Where peace and friendship once were found, Where woman like an angel kind Did soothe and cheer the sterner mind. And to the heart apply that balm Which gently luU'd the spirit calm ; And even there, some rabid faction Had put the women all in action, The artless smile, the grace, the beauty, The pets, the flowers, the task of duty. The more retired, domestic cares, In shade were thrown by state aflfairs ; And, though not vers'd in poHtics, Yet flags and bouquets they could fix, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 21 And hence each Miss, who had her hearty, Had song or scandal for his party. And in the moral circle, too, 'Bout nothing there was much ado ; For though all Protestants agreed, The Bible taught alone their creed, Without a hint to that coercion Which Roman prelates call perversion, Yet sects and parties had their " ism," And then, withal, their catechism ; So much inclined were men to nibble At shades and forms, where not a dribble Of truth or light could reason find To elevate the Christian mind ; While Anti-Christ, the moral foe Of Liberty, could union show. Indeed, it seemed that of the whole. The body politic and soul. Unless there were some emendation. The hope were vain to save the nation ; The prospects all were fraught with sorrow, Foreboding evil on the morrow. Portending factions and pollution, Which threatened sore the constitution ; 22 O TEMPORA ! MORES ! Yet as by Liberty, enchanted, Of better days he thus descanted : " Tho' dark is the scene, Once the promise of gladness, Ever cheering and sheen, Might dispel every sadness. The demagogue then Was in this land a stranger. Our yeomen were men To scan closely each danger ; Yes, virtue, alone, Was the joy of the people, And justice had tone Like a bell on a steeple ; The radical wight. Or the Papist suborning, If heard of at night, Was not seen in the morning ; For rogues, altho' some, Like the unsinging Quakers, Most artfully mum Kept a look out for breakers." He paused ; then as from reverie woke, And still of years bygone thus spoke : O TEMPORA ! O MORES'! 2S *' There was a time, an era when Young Freedom had for rulers men, When all the orders of the wise In varied grace without disguise, Regarding each their proper station. Did honour to the race and nation ; When power conferred a trust of duty, And office was not sought for booty ; When men of candour were selected, And rogues, though foreigners, rejected ; When prudent fathers, yeomen able. Graced well the democratic table. And mothers with their smiling daughters, Like oil, when poured on troubled waters. Could tame the tempers of their sons. And watch with joy the little ones. When love of order and of duty Were more esteemed than wealth or beauty. And flowing locks of borrow'd curls With morals left to " priest-rid" girls, Were yet unmentioned. In those times. The parent nipp'd the buds of crimes ; For seeds of error, sown in youth, Full well they knew would shade the truth : 24 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! And hence the child on mother's knee, Was taught of God and Liberty. Then, all contented with their lot, Few cared to seem what they were not. But as republicans were plain. And in their notions somewhat sane. Dissimulation, being scarce, The social circle was no farce ; For honest in each thought and feeling. The very smile a truth revealing. As birds or squirrels in their nest. The host was happy with his guest; Each counting joy or grief essential As all with man is providential. Then cold formality was rare. For strangers seldom met to stare And glances change, like baboons, when Mere decency might make them men ; But each, regarding every other Of Freedom's sons an equal brother. Was ever pleased to join in story A sharer of the nation's glory ; And thus in etiquette to run The path as trod by Washington. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 25 Those olden limes were not as now, Then every husband kept a cow, And children, taking tea in silk. Kept rosy on fresh bread and milk ; Then social visits, paid by cards, AVere oft returned in neighbours' yards, For upstart rank, that imp of pride Which would republicans deride, Wore yet the mark of foreign grade, And virtue kept it in the shade ; For mothers dared sweep their own houses, And make their children's frocks and trouses. To cleanse their pantries, wash their dishes. And, sometimes, even scale their fishes ; While milk-maids in their plain case bonnets. With matin songs and vesper sonnets. On tripod throne, all queenlike seated, By flocks of smiling children greeted, Upon the lawn beneath the trees, Where buzzing flock'd the labouring bees. Or in the more sequester'd hall, Where they the kine might gently call, In blushes valued more than money. Sang ours the land of milk and honey. 3 26 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! Then happiness was counted treasure, And industry was link'd with pleasure, The coxcomb nice, with pimps and dandies That sip their wine and suck their candies, Were fed on mush, and soup and porridge. And cooler heads had purer courage. The blooded steed to sport at races. And hounds to show their master's graces, With mustache such as monkeys dash on. Were not, as yet, with us the fashion. Since only that which duty pleaded. Plain honest people thought they needed. Then every wight of rank plebeian, Talk'd not of waiters European, Nor yet were taxes laid on purses To rouge dry dames, or fee wet nurses, For woman fair without resentment, Made home the sphere of blest contentment, While elder sisters rock'd their brothers. And fondlings had for nurses mothers. Those were days when men lived longer. Wives were happier, friends were stronger, Hopes were higher, children fairer, Truth more valued, error rarer, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 27 Joys were richer, feelings purer, Vows more sacred, credit surer. Hearts were warmer, spirits finer, Words more free, and thoughts diviner. Days of struggle after knowledge, Days when doctors had seen college, When the teacher liv'd in story. And the artisan had glory. When mechanics were respected, Quacks and dandies were neglected, When the dentist was the barber, And the tailor or the garber, So exactly set his stitches, That men only wore the breeches. Days when honesty was duty, When the smile of health was beauty. When dame nature gave her creatures Forms adapted to their features ; Ere the belle in pigmy trussle, Met the gale with giant " bustle," Or stay'd beaux in schools quite normal, Had become so flat and formal. When the merchant, and the farmer, Woo'd alike the kitchen charmer ; 28 O TEMPORA ! MORES ! And the lass the most attractive To the batchelor, was active, Not like stocks she might inherit, But in shovi^ing household merit. When (the truth you sure will pardon) Maids were sought, who dress'd the garden. And the parson, wise by reading, And the lawyer, skill in pleading. Seeking there these lovely thrushes, Oft beguil'd their modest blushes ; While your wasp-waist bloodless creatures, Shaded plants in form and features, With your prim cosmetic darlings. Ever caged like untam'd starlings. And your hauteur parlor ladies. Were but play'd with as doll babies. And in those better, olden times, They had less bickerings and less crimes, Less drinking and less oyster suppers. Less work for bleeders, leechers, cuppers, Less of distress, and less privation, Less vileness from intoxication ; For alcohol and fam'd vanilla, The wine flask and the frozen creams, Like grave Charybdis and grim Scylla, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 29 Of danger opposite extremes, They viewed as all the prudent do, And wisely steer'd between the two, For where approach was safe to neither, 'Twas surely well to touch not either. The fashion then of foreign sinners, Who so their regimen refine. As just to take their bedtime dinners, And breakfast at the hour to dine, Was not, as yet, the "mode" elitely. The "ton," republican completely, Since democrats, consulting reason. Would breakfast, dine, and sup in season ; Presuming luxuries and wealth Were not designed to injure health. Then morals mingled in their ways Their pleasures, sports, amusements, plays, And theatres, tho' understood. If well conducted to be good. Presented truth so clothed in error, That if not sinks of moral terror, Were yet so doubtful in condition, So ever to excite suspicion. That every one, who self respected, This Thespian haunt of vice neglected : 3* 30 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! For where vulgarities unite To shock " profanely," ears polite, Where flush intemperance and crime, May take the seats the most sublime ; Where each obscenity may sit. Or in the gallery or the pit, And married men may have their proxies, In every tier along the boxes. Sure decency and wisdom say, *' Would you be prudent, stay away." And hence the virtues and the graces Attendance gave at no such places. Such was the past, while now to scan The present, he with sighs began : *' Alas for those days ! they are gone as a dream ! Our life is a vapour, our time as a stream Glides swiftly away : of the past all bereft. We grasp at the future, till nothing is left. Thus evils increase, and the moments that roll Are but shadows to darken the hopes of the soul, And when we contemplate the prospect of years Our confidence falters, our hearts quail with fears, For who, that has noted the half of our errors. Hails now the dread present, an era of terrors ; O TEMPORA I O MORES I 31 The unfaithful husband, the inconstant wife, The son and the daughter with recklessness rife, The faithless coquette and the gambler at plays, \ The swindler of banks and the scourge of high- ways, > The coin counterfeiter, the forger of notes, I M And the tool of the priest, that will barter his votes, I ^The picker of pockets, the broker in stocks, I W^he burglar of houses, the breaker of locks, ■ V^^ rifler of wallets, the robber of mails, *nd the creditor, who for a benefit fails. The smuggler of goods from the shop of his stay. The clerk that steals money to make a display, The liberty plunderer, your dealer in slaves. And the dead man purloiner, that robs even graves. Your sly finger'd stewards, your house filching *gals,' That make hells of your kitchens with rows and cabals, » The strong bottle toper, the doora'd debauchee, I The quality bibber, your ala modee. With your temperance reformers, who still quaff their wine, And your moral amusements, where scandal's divine ; 32 TEEPORA ! O MORES ! Your sects and your partiesj that just keep the church, As the devil would have it, the more in the lurch ; These, these are the fruits of a change from those times. For virtue there's fashion, for innocence crimes. For taste there are gevi^gaws, for beauty there's paint. For modesty shyness, for prudence restraint ; For wisdom there's cunning, for honesty show, And for rulers we have — but let not the world know. For who that has scanned the presages of late, Joins not with the court-crier, " God save the state." Now the chance to live freemen with prospects like these. Were like bottling the fragrance that floats on the breeze ; And error is somewliere, and mark here the cause, 'Tis an influence foreign controlling the laws, A spirit prelatic, a sprig of old Rome, That by burning our bibles, would make this her home, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 33 The shade of his popeship, an offspring of evil, The master of slaves, and his master the devil ; Yes, such is the Roman and such his commission. And such is the secret of Freedom's condition: Then as we a palladium for mankind would be. Let our own native born rule the realm of the free, Tho' we offer to all an asylum with pleasure. Let the birth-right of Freedom remain as our trea- sure ; Let the stranger have home, lands and wealth, but in schools Let no papal demagogue dictate our rules. For suppose ye that we independent may stand, And sing " Hail Columbia," the thrice happy land. With the strange renegado, exalted to power, And the outcasts of tyrants to guard Freedom's bower ! That we, when such tidings may sound thro' the earth, In praise of that country which gave Freedom birth. When such are the anthems that tyranny swells. To honor the "Union" where Liberty dwells. 34 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! May be known and be hail'd on the mountain and wave, As the "land of the free" and the "home of the brave !" That we will be cheer'd, as that star whose bright ray Shall lead on the nations from darkness to day ! No, no, v/e must alter and better our ways, And return to the deeds of the good olden days, Remembering that we, democratic, plebeian, But borrow a curse in the modes European. We must gird on our armour, arouse to our duty, Come forth in our strength, our integrity, beauty, Till afar thro' the realms may resound the glad story, That virtue is honour and honesty glory, That justice with candour, like plant in its flower, The fragrance of bloom, is the lustre of power; That wisdom is wealth, and religion a jewel, Deception a flame, and hypocrisy fuel ; That prudence is Freedom, Truth better than money. And again shall our land flow with milk and with honey : O TEMPORA ! MORES ! 35 Ay, and plum'd be our "eagle," our "pennon" unfurl'd, On the mountain and wave 'pride' and 'light' of the world." 'Twas thus a glancing thought he cast Along the present and the past ; And onward as his musings ran, Far down the future, did he scan, With feelings mingling hopes and fears, The harbingers of coming years ; And as the heralds came and went To bear the varied notes of sorrow, Announcing each some dark intent, Some tale of woe upon the morrow, An unknown voice in accents clear, With trumpet tongue, broke on the ear— " Friend, friend of man, feel not dismay, Thy country's gloom shall pass away ; Altho' now veil'd in shades of night, Her coming day is rob'd in light. True Liberty, remember hence, A price will have, 'tis vigilance. Who would be free must strike tlie blow. This precept did your fathers know, 36 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! And when the maxim you forget, Then will your sun of glory set. Hence, would you long the boon preserve, The claim, the honour v/ell deserve. In mind keep this : integrity Nor gives or brooks an injury. Beware, mark well, beware to scan Your duty both to God and man ; And where your dwelling-place may be, There stands the realm of Liberty." The patriot roused as from a trance. And gazing, with a hurried glance. Above, around, thro' all the air, As one on vacancy may stare. He smil'd— when thus, by fancy plum'd The voice Young Freedom's lotresum'd. " Her cause is great, her course is on, The wild-grass prairies of the West, The rock-bound cliffs of Oregon Shall glory in her high behest. In regions North toward the pole Her " stripes" shall on the broad Lakes roll, Where in that snow-clad waste of wonders O'er her high crags Niagara thunders ; o tempora! o mores! 37 While on the south toward the line Her "stars" along the Gulf shall shine, In that bright land where roses blow And Texas smiles on Mexico ; Her sway shall, guiding earth's commotion. Extend from east to western ocean, And stretching then her liberal hand Across the deep to India's land. The sons celestial from their bowers The light of Liberty shall see. And, flocking to these shores of ours, Shall catch the spirit of the free. The curse of Ham shall be remov'd, And he with Ishmael shall be lov'd ; Yes Asia, ay, and Afric's coast. Shall cease their kings and slaves to boast ; The Isles, the Isles, the tide shall stem, And Liberty shall breathe on them ; The pagan realms all hail the day, When tyranny hath pass'd away, While Europe, in her robes may frown. Till prelacy shall crumble down. For in that jubilee of earth, When Freedom celebrates her birth, 4 38 O TEMP0RA ! O MORES I The nations eye to eye will see,- That Freedom's curse is popery." A moment's pause, and then again The subject thus it did explain : *' The heathen are the sons of hope. But crouching bigots to the Pope Of moral truth so little ken That no device may make them men. The elevation of condition Where priest or prelate claims submissioiij Where Fear may kiss the rod that rules it, Or Faith may dread the scourge that schools it. Is yet that unaffected thing, Which robes the Pope and crowns the king ; Even France,* with all her revolution, A tyrant rules by constitution. Yes, where the body and the soul Are made the subjects of control ; And where to plant the slavery deeper, And to enthral the conscience better. The priest is made the spirit's keeper. Interpreter of word and letter ; *Francehas 32,000 Catholic priests, and is governed principally by martial law. O TEMPORA I O MORES ! 39 'Tis but the whim the fancy brings, That would njake freemen of such things ; The hope that waits the summer flower, When autumn's frosts are on the bower ; For prelacy let all men know To Freedom is a moral foe : The crozier, mitre, ermine, crown, The wafer charmed, the penance frown, The mass for those beyond the grave, Are but mere fetters for the slave ; Hence, Papal countries, as we see, Are not the realms of Liberty." The patriot then, recounted o'er The history of the church of yore, How from the records he had learn d, That heretics by Popes were burn'd. While he his Papal " Holiness" Assumed the power to curse or bless ; And as he passed in sad review The massacre Bartholomew, And other deeds of dark commission, Her persecutions, inquisition, 40 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! The host of martyrs she had slain Her iron sceptre to maintain, And how the " Holy Book" acquaints Her " drunken with the blood of saints ;" He found old Rome of crime was full, Yet claimed to be "infallible." He viewed her convents' gloomy halls, Where error holds her festivals ; Where innocence in drapery dark Is made the dupe of treachery — Mark ! He heard the sighs of sisters, mothers. The vows of fathers and of brothers, That rose upon the welkin's breath For those consigned to living death ; He saw, demure, the sabled nuns, Observed around the little ones. And deeply was on his remembrance Impressed a family resemblance ; Those friendless orphans seemed to wear The countenance of guardians there; The eye, the brow, the smile, the cheek, Relation cognate seemed to speak ; While birds of shadows, like the owl, The nun in veil, the priest in cowl, TEMPORA ! O mores! 41 Were but a voice that ever sings The blessings which a nunnery brings.* But when he viewed the church a whole, Her dead'ning influence on the soul, Her dignitaries, orders all, The priest, the bishop, cardinal, The *' man of sin" upon a throne, " Abaddon," the " Apollyon," With robes reflecting the eff'ulgence Of fraud-got wealth for sin's indulgence. The blighting scourge of history, Of " Babylon the Mystery," The *' Harlot Mother" giving birth *' Abominations of the earth," 'Twas then he saw that Judah's Lion Alone could guard the gates of Zion. And scanning o'er her path to glory, The " Absolution," "Purgatory," The " Host," "Auricular Confession," The " Unction," " Penance" for transgression. The "Pater Nosters," " Av' Marias," The " Masses" of the monks and friars, * See Bishop Hughes' Schiffler Letter. Also D'Au" bigne's History, pages J2 and 13 — Philad. ,ed, 4-^ 43; O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! The " Sacraments," a dark oblation, Complete with " Transubstantiation," While in her images you see The climax of idolatry ; 'Twas clear, her creed was but a quibble To bring contempt upon the Bible; A snare, an anti-Christian schism To lead the mind to Atheism, Like France, when she on truth did trample, And rashly followed Rome's example. Then passing from the olden world, Where to the stranger is unfurlM The " Pennon" whose young eagle wing« Are folded not to popes or kings. Where conscience in her unhedg'd bowers May garner either fruits or flowers ; While faith, at her own chosen shrine, UnarmM by prelate's threat'ning rod, Herself may scan the " Word divine," In truth to know, to worship God; And there, within the Empire State, At Carbo, alias Champlain, To show of heresy her hate, And prove, withal, herself insane, O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 43 The good old Bible of King James, Which Congress once did recommend^ Was by her imps consigned to flames. And that she might her creed extend, And in this realm of Freedom blest All Scripture precept put to rest, She gravely taught by Roman rules That no such " Book" should be in schools. The owl is not just like the lark Which loves the light — it seeks the dark ; And as the church was here a stranger, The Truth might put the Faith in danger, And more, the Pope had will'd it ; hence. They with the Scriptures must dispense. And here, perhaps, it should be told This charming mandate is of old. For in no land of Papal creed Are children taught the '* Word" to read ; Nay, such a thing no man may dare, As history plainly doth declare The heretic, who this right claims, The faithful should consign to flames, Or to the block, as they have done The Wirths, the father and the son. 44 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! With many a one, who for life's charter, The " Word of God," has died a martyr ; For Truth, the Bible, let all know. To Rome, is her most dangerous foe.* Then taking yet another view. Of papal treacheries not a few, As onward still the history run. He saw her deeds at Kensington : Where, in the temple of the free, The " Key-Stone" of our Liberty, Her foreign imps did rashly dare Young Freedom's " Starry Pennon" tear, And slaughter with her " priest-rid" train Did show old Rome herself again. For there, in her own haunt concealed. Too vile to stand upon the field. In faith, all wedded to the " beast," In spirit, guided by the priest. To lay the unarm'd neighbour low. She aim'd the musket's deadly blow ; And thus by deed more dark than hell. The sons of native freemen fell. *See D'Aubigne's History of the Reformation, pages 306 and 346. Also, liull of Pope Gregory XVI., 1832. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 45 Yes, Schiffler, who the standard bore, And Cox, and Wright, and Rhinedollar, With Ramsey, Stillwell, Hammitt, Greble, And had the papal host been able, To do their work amid the flames, The time would fail to name the names. For from their dark, their convent halls, And other perforated walls. They " hurled the death shots thick and fast," Promiscuously on all beneath, That they, who unsuspecting pass'd. Were thus consigned to gloomy death ; Till reason, roused to riot passion, Put on her robes in Roman fashion, For, like the Bible of King James, Were church and dwelling wrapt in flames, And Liberty, in consternation. Wept to behold her desecration ; Yes Freedom said, " the deed is done. The tale is told, damnation won; For hence in blood and flame we see. That Rome is Rome, where'er she be." The patriot roused, and frenzy fired, Thus wildly of the winds inquired : "46 tempora! o mores! " Spirit of death, where dost thou brood ? Earth ! Earth and Heaven ! the truth indite ! Spirit of Freedom, understood, Gird on thy sword, for justice smite." His tones the thunder deep resembled. And all the Wissahickon trembled ; From rock to rock, from hill to hill. The echo leaped, and all was still. A voice responded " Guard your trust, But let the sword with bigots rust. The elevation of the mind Is Freedom's motto. Let mankind. Let all the people, age and youth. Remember this, the Truth, the Truth, The oracles of Revelation, 'Tis wisdom that doth guard a nation. The conquest is not to the brave. Or victory to the skilled in fight. For one a thousand may enslave. And two ten thousand put to flight. The moral power that rules the storm Is firm, is true, is kind, is warm : 'Tis courage fights, 'tis prudence conquers, On these grand precepts Freedom anchors. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 47 Be mild, be calm^ from passion free, For reason dwells with Liberty." The patriot gravely, then began Our institutions free to scan. And as he viewed the rare communion Of sects and creeds throughout the Union, The "Baptist," "Presbyterian," "Quaker," The "Dutch," the "Methodist," the "Shaker," " Disciples," all of varied rite. From " Mormon" down to " Millerite," He found one baptized the " Catholic," Like frogs of Egypt sent to plague us. The styled " successors Apostolic," Their noted father Simon Magus. These used iniquity like honey And " Absolution" sold for money.* They seemed a sect of varied clan. But not like us Republican. He viewed them, marked their vile conditions. And soon aroused were his suspicions. He saw the * Mark,' the * Beast,' the * Wo- man,' 'Twas sure enough that same old Roman ! *See Acts of the Apostles viii, and D'Aubigne's His- ory of the Reformation, page 68. 48 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! He paused a moment, shook his head, Then musing loudly, thus he said : " It is a part of reason's task. And hence we may with deference ask If they, the subjects of the Pope, On whose mere will may rest their hope, Or priest or laymen, one or both. May well be trusted under oath ?* "We put this question by intention, As one that charity should mention ; For if our country's guardian rod Is rested on the book of God, And harbingers of ill or good Await its being understood. It is a question at this day. Which every freeman well should weigh. For if we dwell in Christian land. We should the Gospel understand. If Freedom's temple we admire. And to her favours yet aspire. Her churches, schools, and halls of Justice, Each man should know in what his trust is. *In the British State trials of O'Connell, no papist was permitted to be empannelled on the Jury. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 49 And why do freemen pledges make, When they the oath of office take ? What is the " Book" that oath presents To Judges and to Presidents ? What is our guardian from pollution ? What arm protects the Constitution ? Is it not known through all the nation Her corner stone is Revelation ? That in the cabinet, the field, The Bible is our sword and shield ? In Church, in State, in camp, in hall, Our helmet, breast-plate, buckler, all ? That in our Courts none testify Who may its doctrines dare deny ? How then can freeman know his duty, Who may not in its truth and beauty Scan that blest " Word," on whose attendance Must stand or fall our Independence ? Can any one its precepts know Who only to the priest may go, Without the Bible in his hand. Himself to read and understand 'i Then of this book we should be wary, It is the one thing necessary. 5 50 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! For what alas would be the story Of Freedom's lot, our boast and glory, Should we its doctrines cast aside, And its commands no more abide ? Should we by Roman creeds be tost, Till with the Volume truth be lost. The record with that Gospel light. Whose absence caused the papal might ? Ken thro' the vista, man of reason, The picture, and take heed in season. For consequences would you know. See Spain, Brazil, see Mexico. Yes, could we history's page unroll From east to west, from pole to pole, And pass the nations in review, As mirror gives reflection true. Such would the contrast ever be Of Protestantism with Popery. Mark the Dissenter, note the Scott, The Yankees, for where are they not, And in each countenance you see The language written — '* I am free." Go then to Ireland, Austria, Rome, Or any other papal home, O TEMPORA ! O mores! 51 And in each haggard gaze you have The " Mark," the sign means^— " I'm a slave." Whence is this difference, air, and mien, By each and every eye so seen ? Why like the lark, does one love light, The other, like the owl, the night? Look to the Church, her creed, her laws, And there you have the legal cause. The former with the Bible spread Are bless'd by Gospel precepts led. The latter, bowing to the Beast, Are curs'd by his "Mass-offering" priest; The one true liberty has nurs'd, The other tyranny has curs'd. Why then do priest and prelate feign That wrongly we the "Word" explain? Why, why, do these mere Roman scholars, Like puppy dogs, with papal collars, So loudly bark about the terrors Of strange perversion in translation. When heaven so well approves our errors. That thro' them God doth bless the nation? " The tree shall you know by its fruit." This precept to the subject suit, 52 O TEMPORA ! O MORES . And history shows without coercion The Protestant the Christian version. When we may gather grapes of thorns, Or figs upon the thistle grow, Then may the papal " beast with horns," His version of the Bible show; But until then 'twere vain to look, For truth unveil'd in such a book ; For if correct the text they quote, It is perverted by a note. No, candour, that pure Christian gem, Is seemingly all lost with them. Or why in Rome the papal hope, Do Protestants now guard the pope, And while they shield that "Holy" scoffer As heretics their paeans offer ?* Why is truth thus with error spic'd Unless the pope be Anti-Christ ? Again there's something in the creed, However fair be its complexion, That soon will make the freeman bleed If but once bound to feel subjection. * The Swiss guard of the Pope has regular Protest- ant worship. — S^e the Pope's annual Anathema. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 53 Their laymen may no doubt love truth, Yet Roman art their search refuses, Since train' d from infancy thro' youth To every trick that truth abuses,* The priest well skill'd in knavery, Such smiles so weaves with slavery, As every heart may deep enthral Which bows at the " confessional." And hence we solve the grave suggestion. By asking here another question. Shall foreign foes, thro' "absolution," Guard Freedom^s laws and constitution ? Shall priests with "Penance" and their " Host," Rule this, the realm of Freedom's boast ? The subject then again we say. Is one that Freemen well should weigh. For to this point the question comes. Shall Anti-Christ protect our homes ? Shall we to him submission give, Or Christians independent live? Shall we, as Catholics propose. The Bible to our children close, * See letters of Bishop Hughes, to Col. Stone, and the facts in reply, showing the bishop's veracity. 5* 54 O TEMPO R A ! O MORES ! And in the absence of the " word," The prelate's "mandate" here be heard; And thus surrendering Freedom's hope Bow in subjection to the pope ; Or shall we, battling Roman rules. The bible open through our schools, And in the path our fathers trod With Freedom bow and worship God ; From eve to morn, from morn till even. To place our hope our trust in heaven 1 A question deep, of moment high. Involving time — eternity. The patriot paus'd, and all was calm. When like some unexpected charm. There rose a sound from distant grove. Which rang through all the heavens above, And with a richly blended chorus. Was heard this hymn in strains sonorous. Ours is the glowing sunset west, A wilderness of beauty. Of empires, 'tis a "Union" blest. By hierarch, nor king opprest, A land of christian duty. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 55 It is the home the wide earth knows Of patriots undaunted, The reahn, where no oppression grows, An El Dorado that 'mid snows The Pilgrim Fathers planted. In wild romantic grandeur crown'd, It is a world of story, In greatness and in power renown'd, When young on tyranny it frown'd, And laurels gain'd of glory. Yes, freemen, such a land is ours, To no intolerance given. And shall a pope's infernal powers, The Bible tear from Freedom's bowers, And cloud our path to heaven ? Shall free-born yeomen bow to him Like papal slaves unletter'd ? In base submission heed each whim, Till Truth again in blood may swim ; And Liberty is fetter'd ? 56 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! No, freemen, battling for your rights, Like christians stand in armour. Remember Inquisition's night, When priests made dark the Gospel's light, And let your zeal grow warmer. Count o'er the dangers of delay. The curse of Rome's dominion, The liberty we guard to-day, Is * Christ,' the ' light,' the ' truth,' the ' way,' ' Faith,' * conscience,' ' right,' * opinion." Then wake, arise, mark well the rod. No more indifferent wander. Observe the path the pilgrim trod. Guard, guard the Bible, worship God, His laws, his judgments ponder. The music ceas'd while round the lay The Zephyrs play'd, then died away ; Till lingering in the distance dim, No more was heard the choral hymn. TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 57 But hark ! again is silence broken, What mean those accents firmly spoken ? *' Above the Union's ensign stands A shield unwrought by human hands. It is the Wisdom from on high, Of truth the Word, integrity. Like Horeb's stone, where judgments linger, 'Twas writ from Heaven by God's own finger. And like the "bush," by fire illum'd. It still in flame stands unconsura'd. Its pages, stars of radiant light. Were open'd on the papal might ; And as the owl, to shadows born. Quails and retires before the morn. As deeds of darkness shun the day. So priest and prelate fled away. It was the "dove" that led the band Of "Pilgrims" to this sunset land ; Where by no hierarch opprest. The wand'rer found an "Ark" of rest. And here when gather'd storms and glooms. Its wings were fledged with eagle plumes, That while the "Dove" the Church yet warms, The " Eagle" guards the state from storms. 58 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! And thus to contrast peace with wars, The white and red blend with the " Stars," That hence is seen in Scripture types. Young Freedom's flag of " Stars and Stripes." And while the sons of pilgrim sages, Guard in their homes these sacred pages, While in the church, the state, the school, The Bible precepts, yet may rule ; While still each generation looks, To Him, who wrote the " Book of books ;" Young Freedom's cause, tho' tempest tost. Shall triumph on till time be lost." This warning voice the patriot heard. And bow'd, but answer'd not a word. He felt its force, he knew the cause, The Pope was trampling freedom's laws. The right of conscience and opinions Must be surrendered to his minions.* The father came with hoary hairs. The mother sigh'd with mingled prayers, The brother told the sick'ning tale. Of sister in the convent veil, * See bull of Pope Gregory XVI., 1844, against the Christian League, the right of conscience, and the use of the Bible in schools. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 59 While curses, tho' not loud, yet deep, Did o'er his features, trembling creep. All plead the path the "Pilgrims trod," When children read the " Word of God ;" And ask as one of Freedom's rules. That " Bibles" still be read in schools. Yet cold, indifferent, to their woe. The priest and prelate answer no. But Freedom's watchmen listening heard, And soon was pass'd around the word, The " Native sons" arose at length. And girded on their father's strength ; And as they bend the birth-right bow. The heralds forth like strong winds go, From lawn to lawn, from dale to dale, From plain to plain, from hill to hill. From wood to wood, from vale to vale. From rock to rock, from rill to rill. From glen and glade, from grove and nook, From field and shade, from bower and brook, From forests deep, from ocean's tide, From mountains high, from prairies wide, From east to west, from south to north. One mingling burst rolls thundering forth, 60 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! *' What mean you now, you Roman rogues, You prelates foreign, demagogues, To tear the Bible from our schools. And chain the free by papal rules ? Who beards the lion in his den. Should come unfettered, stand like men, Why seize ye then this base device, Like Satan once in Paradise, To snare the nation thro' her youth, By planting error for the truth ? Old Rome your policy we know, To freedom's cause you are a foe, The truth all told is even worse. To liberty you are a curse. We ask not here that you review The slaughter at Bartholomew, But just remember that example. When you did Freedom's *' pennon" trample When, by a preconcerted frown, The sons of freedom were shot down. And to efface your murderous fury, Your laymen libell'd the "grand jury." O TEMPORA ! O MOHES ! 61 Yes, how your Judge could riot quench, By breathing treason from the bench.* Rome, in your priestly wiles beware, Lest you Young Freedom too far dare. For when the church, the bigot arm. Then will her household take alarm. And from her lair when once she rouses, And fervently her cause espouses, In vain the papal arm may smite. As soon such deeds her sons requite. For men of nerve and men of skill. From mount and plain, from vale and hill, Like tigers rousing in their ire. Will bid such recreants retire ; Yes, priests must learn with their recruisants That arm'd " mass houses" are a nuisance : The man that doth guard Freedom's cause, ,Can never rise above her laws ; Nay, tho' executive in chief. If he to scoundrels grant his brief. * See CathoUc Address in reply to the presentation of the Grand Juiy in the late riots. 6 62 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! And as a reckless politician Creates a mob by such permission, ,He for the act, however pitied, Before the Court must stand acquitted, For if the strong at laws may wink. The weak, perchance, may speak and think J The riot storm 'tis prudence weathers, Who sows the wind the whirlwind gathers. The social cloud, the threat'ning shower, Dispell'd must be by moral power. No fire arms flash in reason's course, The soldier wields a brutal force. For who would gravely call things men, That fell the peaceful citizen ! The civil power hath mighty arm, To shield, protect, defend from harm, And this alone, the freeman knows, The martial sway the tyrant shows, And its employment with the free, Must rise from dire necessity ; For tho' twice thousands may be slain, The seeds of strife may yet remain, And ne'er with men will discord cease Till civil rights are held in peace. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 63 Ours is the realm of Freedom's boast, The temple wherein dwell the braves. Time was nor shall the time be lost, When here unfurled our " pennon" waves, The sons of patriots, ne'er shall story. Our torn flag furl with tarnished glory ; Nay when the Native tocsin sounds, In vain the Roman harks his hounds, For tyrant forces stand at bay Like asses in the lion's way. Then, henceforth, let the nations know, That we have bent our birthright bow, That freemen born, guard freedom's cause. From papal foes, from foreign laws ; That while our rock-bound mountains stand. The cloud-girt bulwarks of the land. And while our " Eagle" on the wave. Doth cheer the free, and nerve the brave, 'Tis ours young Freedom's fold to shield. In church, in state, in camp, and field, To stand through error's dangerous hour, And guard her cause by moral power. Yes, with the Bible in our hand. We fall, or independent stand. 64 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! It is the ark of Freedom's trust, The urn to shield the pilgrim's dust, The arms, the escutcheon of the free, *' Palladiurn of our liberty." The patriot smil'd with unfeigned joys, He saw the yankees were the *' boys" To teach the Roman Catholics, " 'Tis hard to kick against the pricks." He knew they waited but the when. To show that reason must rule men. Their fathers mow'd the wilderness, And still their sons its fields would bless. For as the vine entwines the oak. Nor yields embrace at lightnings stroke, But still holds on from day to day, 'Till branch and trunk is passed away. And then upon some younger shoot. Some germ of the paternal root From whose time crumbled frame 'tis riven, It clings and climbs still on to heaven ; So will young Freedom hold the soil, The fathers bought with blood and toil. So shall their sons thro' generations Her cause defend before the nations. O TEMPORA I O MORES ! 65 The chosen vine the Pilgrim planted, Still spreads its shade o'er men undaunted, Nor will they tho' the sire go hence, Forget while time may tell his story, " Beware of forelgii influence.''^ " The freeman's birth-right is his glory. ^^ " The history of mankind doth shoiu That prelacy is Freedom' s foeJ'^ " Trust not in priestly absolution, The Bible guards our constitution.''^ The civil sway must rule the free. The martial, tramples liberty. These are the themes on which we dwell, These are the maxims, sons will tell. And hence as States and realms increase, Will freedom triumph on in peace ; 'Till kindred, tribe, and tongue, and nation, To honour high our " Declaration," Will carry out that glorious sequel, That '* Men of right are free and equal.*' Then liberty the earth adorning, Will go forth like the rays of morning, And o'er the gloom of papal night Will rise the sun of gospel light ; 6* 66 o temporaIo mores! Then Freedom's anthems loud will roll From east to west, from pole to pole, And kingdoms without thrones will see, One festal day of jubilee ; Yes, then shall truth lift up her voice And all the nations shall rejoice : For popes and kings shall sleep in sadness And earth shall ring with joy and gladness ; While, here, as now, shall our descendants. Still celebrate their " Independence," And ever true, the motto stand, I love " my own, my native land ;" I love the soil the Pilgrims trod, Their home, my country, and our God. ADDENDA. The day pass'd on, when in reflection. The patriot chanc'd upon election. And tho' perhaps it strange may seem. That he should muse on such a theme. Yet as of old one was appointed To bear the news of heav'n's anointed ; So now to all the world was he The angel of this mystery. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 67 For on the calm of evening's close, With fragrance, playing round the rose. While save the prattling of the rill, In silence all the grove was still, A voice replete with glad surprise, In thunder tones broke from the skies. And thro' the welkin bright and clear, 'Twas thus it fell upon the ear — ** Friend, friend of man, 'tis thine to see, What henceforth Freedom's lot shall be. But as with wisdom ever blends The means that may accomplish ends. The future ken as in a glass. And mark the visions as they pass. The corner stone of elevation Is but the sceptre of the nation. And who would be or safe, or great. In truth must guard the helm of state, And not let one for persecution, Pervert the very Constitution ; For if the high, the laws may trample. The low will follow their example. To love young freedom with devotion, Is no protection from commotion. 6S O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! The clouds that threaten most the free, Are men that rule through treachery. This fact remember, and behold How time doth error's deeds unfold. The storms that now around may wait, The evils that infest the State, Your hickory poles, your law defiers. Your riot makers, monks and friars, So lauded in their bud and bloom. Whose fruits you reap in blood and gloom, Are parables the present age May study at the " Hermitage ;" Yes, yes, " Democracy," thy name Has Freedom clothed in weeds of shame^ For mobs and riots, as we see, Are sprouts of your own Hickory tree. Yet as the wave that flaats the surge Doth lay the pestilential scourge. And as the clouds that waft the showers Refresh and purify the bowers ; So shall the strifes of this dark day. The feuds and broils of party lay ; So shall this trampling of the laws Make stronger, purer, Freedom's cause. o TEMPORA ! o mores! 69 Yes, when the Fox has run and doubled The brood, the kennel has been troubled 5 And one both fortunate and great Hath slept upon the throne of State ; And in his seat may sit his waiter, In word and deed an arrant traitor, Whose smile on foreign demagogues May like the "kiss" point out the rogues, A nest of NuUifiers, Locos, Repealers, and of other no-go's ; A sapling sprig, so brittle, wickery, That although christened the " Young Hickory," A mushroom, upas branch, a sprout, By freemen to be rooted out ; Then shall you hail a glorious day A western star shall rise" — but stay, Or rather for a moment tarry. You mean not now the " Mill Boy," Harry ! That he will plead the nation's cause, Defend and execute her laws ? " By all the auguries of Fate, That fix the destinies of State ; By every language of the flower That ladies read from bower to bower; 70 O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! By all the whisperings of the grove That echoing through the glades may rove ; And by the spirits of the hill Whose shadows leap from rill to rill ; On mount and plain this truth I scan, That " Mill boy," Harry, is the man. But hear, while I to you unfold A secret that may not be told. A fairer type of Freedom's nation May rarely fill that lofty station. In honour true, in virtue great, Nor lured by love, nor awed by hate ; An eye of fire, of manly form. With nerve to stem oppression's storm ; Unswayed by envy or ambition. Without disguise, above suspicion ; The friend of power, when not abused. The foe of Freedom wrongly used ; He is indeed a full grown man, A Native, an American." But men are things of creeds and schools, 'Tis principle the patriot rules. The measures of the man are they Which give him claim to place and sway. O TEMPORA ! O MORES ! 71 You would not think a Farmer dare The sceptre of young Freedom bear, The friend of labourers, creatives, Mechanics and of all the Natives ! " Think ! if young Freedom, though grown tall, Could stand in Independence hall. And there proclaim to all her sons. Her daughters, and her little ones. The favorite measures of her Harry, American the name they carry. There's scarce a shade his views assume. That adds not beauty to her plume ; There's. scarce a feature in his fame That gives not splendor to her name ; A deed, an act of his in station That brings not honor to the nation ; Or yet a link in his whole story That lends not lustre to her glory ; Think ! like Minerva clad with armour, In wisdom stands the Ashland Farmer ; A Mercury in eloquence, A "tower" for Liberty's defence; A " pillar" in the halls of Justice, The " Scales" in which the nation's trust is ; 72 o TEMPORA ! o mores! A Cincinnatus, self-made great, The very Clay for robes of state ; And as the destinies decree 'Tis Freedom's will, so let it be !" The patriot smiled, then smiled again, And to' the voice replied- — " Amen. He surely may the State adorn The Old Dominion's Native born ; Of all her sons a nobler one We may not name save Washington ; Yes with such rulers just and clever, Must this our Union stand forever. And her example far extend Through earth till time itself shall end : Ay, nations yet unborn shall see The triumph of our Liberty ; While still the flock which Freedom gathers, Like us will bless the Pilgrim Fathers : Their deeds immortal sound in story, And give to God the praise and glory." The battle fought, the victory won, The tale is told, our task is done. y r\ ' _ ">A /^r^l i^nLin ^^^ 0f^f mm^ A'A'^^^A -^ m a ^ ^A'-^' \iP ■1 . ^(^ ^A; AA.-.''^^/>r- 4' 4 '\ a^'A'AA ^nr^»s4w AA^I Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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