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And as it mantling passes ronnd.
And give a bitter taste.
Lost vision to restore.
A wreath of feunel wore.
Then in Life's goblet freely press
New light and strength they give!
He has not learned to live.
To see his foeinan's face.
One half the human race.
O ye afflieted one, who lie
Patient, thongh sorely tried!
1 pledge von in this cup of grief.
The alarm,—the struggle,—the relief,—
Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,
Thon whose locks ontshine the sun,
Standing, with reluetant feet.
Gazing, with a timid glance.
Deep and still, that gliding stream
Then why pause with indecision,
Seest thon shadows sailing by,
Hearest thon voices on the shore,
O, thon child of many prayers!
Life hath quicksands,—Life hath suaws!
Care and age come unawares!
Like the'swell hi some sweet tune,
Boar a lily in thy hand;
Gates of brass caunot withstand
One tonch of that magic wand.
Bear, throngh sorrow, wrong, and rnih,
In thy heart the dew of yonth,
On thy lips the smile of trnth.
Oh, that dew, like baim shall steal
The shades of night were falling fast.
In happy homes he saw the light
"Try not the Pass I" the old man said;
"Oh stay," the maiden said, " and rest
"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!
At break of day, as heaven-ward
A traveller, by the faithful honnd.
There in the twilight cold and grey,
[The following poems, with one exception, were written at sea, in the latter part of Oetober. I had not then heard of Dr. Chauning's death. Since that event, the poem addressed to him is no long appropriate. I have decided, however, to let it remain as it was written, a feeble testimony of my admiration for a great and good man.]
TO WILLIAM E. CHANGING
The pages of thy book I read,
And as I closed each one,
"Servant of God! well done!"
Well done! Thy words are great and bold!
At times they seem to mo Like Lnther's In the days of old,
Half-battles for the free.
Goon, until this land revokes
The old and chartered Lie,
A voice is ever at thy side,
Speaking in tones of might,
To Johu in Patmos, " Write!"
Write! and tell ont this bloody tale
Record this dire eclipse.
This dread Apocalypse!
THE SLAVE'S DREAM.
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
Was buried in the sand,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide throngh the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Once more a king he strode;
Descend the monntain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed qneen
Among her children stand;
They held him by the hand!—
And fell into the sand.
And then at furions speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
And, with a martini clank.
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
O'er plaius where the tamarind grew
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyama scream,
Beside some hidden stream;
Throngh the trinmph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongnes,
Shonted of liberty:
With a voice so wild and free,
At their tempestuons glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
And his lifeless body lay
Had broken and thrown away!
THE GOOD PART
TIIAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY.
She dwells by great Kenhawa's side,
In valleys green and cool:
Are in the village school.
Her sonl, like the trausparent air
That robes the hills above,
All things with arras of love.
And thus she walks among her girls,
Subduing e'en rnde village churls
She reads to them at eventide
Of One who came te save;
And liberate the slave.
And oft the blessed time foretells
When all men shall be free:
Their falling chaius shall be.
And following her beloved Lord,
For she was rich, and gave all
To break the iron bands
And labonred in her lands. *
Long since beyond the Sonthern Sea
While she, in meek humility.
It is their prayers, which never cease.
Their blessing is the light of peace
THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP. In-the dark feus of the Dismal Swamp .
The hunted negro lay;
And a bloodhonnd's distant bay.
Where will-o'-the wisps and glow-worms shine,
In buirush and in brake; Where waving mosses shrond tho pine, And the cedar grows, and the poisonons vine
Is spotted like the suake;
Where hardly a human foot conld pass,
Or a human heart wonld dare,
Like a wild beast in his lair
A poor old slave. infirm and lamo;
Great scars deformed his face;
W ere the livery of disgrace.
All things were glad and free;
\\ ith songs of Liberty!
On him alone was the doom of pain,
from the morning of his birth • On him alone the curse of Cain Fell, like a flail on the garnered grain.
And strnck him to the earth.
THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT.
Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Half buried in the sands,
With shackled feet and hands.
Deeper than plummet lies.
No more to sink nor rise.
There the black Slave-shin swims,
Freighted with human forms, Whose fettered, fleshiess limbs
Are not the sport of storms. These are the bones of slaves;
They gleam from the abyss; They cry, from yawning waves,
"We are the Witnesses!"
Within Earth's wide domaius
Are markets for men's lives, Their necks are galled with chaius.
Their wrists are cramped with gyves, Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey; Murders, that with affright
Scare schooiboys from their play. All evil thonghts and deeds;
Anger, and lust, and pride; The fonlest, rankest weeds.
That choke Life's groaning tide! These are Che woes of Slaves;
They glare from the abyss; They cry, from unknown graves.
"We are the Witnesses!"
THE QUADROON GIRL. The Slaver in the broad lagoon
Lay moored with idle sail: He waited for the rising moon,
And for the evening gale.
Under the shore his boat was tied
And all her listless crew Watched the grev alligator slido
Into the stilt bayon.
Odonrs of orange-flowers and spice,
Like airs that breathe from Paradise
The Planter, under his roof ef thatch.
itio Slaver's thumb was on the latch.
He said, "My ship at anchor rides
In yonder broad lagoon
And the rising of the moon."
Before them, with her face upraised
In timid attitnde,
A Quadroon maiden stood.
Her eyes were large, and full of light.
Her arms and neck were bare; No garment she wore save a kirtle bright,
And her own long, raven air.
And on her lips there played n smile
As holy, meek, and faint.
The features of a saint.
"The soil is barren.—the farm is old,"
The thonghtful Planter said;
And then upon the maid.
His heart within him was at strife
With snch aecursed gaius: For he knew whose passious gave her life,
Whose blood ran in her veius.
Bnt the voice of na'ture was too weak:
He took the glittering gold 1 Then pale as death grew the maiden's cheek,
Her hands as Iey cold.
The Slaver led her from the door,
He led her by the hand,
In a strange and distant land.
THE WARNING. Bewaee! The Israelite of old, who tore
The lion in Iiis path,—when, poor and blind, He saw the blessed light of heaven no more.
Shorn of his noble strength and foreed to grind In prison, and at last led forth to be A pander to Philistine reveiry,— Upon the pillars of the temple laid
His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Destroyed himself, and with him those who made
A crnel mockery of his sightless woe; The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and jest of all, Expired, and thonsands perished in the fail! There is a poor, blind Samson in this land,
Shorn of his strength, and bonnd in bonds of steel, Who may, in some grim revel raise his hand,
And shake the pillars of this Commonweal,
THE BELFRY OF BRUGES.
In the ancient town of Bruges,
Yet perehance a sleepless wight,
Lodging at some humble iun
In the narrow lunes of life,
When the dusk and hush of night
Shnt ont the incessant din
Of daylight and its toils and strife,
May listen with a caim delight
To the poet's melodies,
Till he hears, or dreams lie hears,
Intermingled with the song.
Thonghts that he has cherished long;
Hears amid the chime and singing
The bells of his own village ringing,
And wakes and finds his slumberons eyes
Wet with most delicions tears
Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay
THE BELFRY OF BRUGES.
In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry
old and brown: Thrice cousumed and thrice rebuilded, still it
watches o'er the town.
As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty
tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the
weeds of widowhood.
Thick with towus and hamlets stndded, and with
streams and vaponrs grey. Like a shield embossed with silver, ronnd and
vast the landscape lay.
At my feet the city sh>nbered. From its chimneys here and there,
Wreaths of suow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like into air.
Not a sonnd rose from the city at the early morning honr.
Bnt 1 heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.
From their nests beneath the rafters sang the
swallows wild and high; And the world, beneath me sleeping, seemed
more distant than the sky.
Then most umsical and soleum, bringing back
the olden times. With their strange, unearthiy changes rang the
Like the psaims from some old cloister, when
the nuus sing in the choir; And the great bell tolled among them, like the
chanting of a friar.
Visious of the days departed, shadowy phantoms filled my brain,
They who live in History ouly seem to walk the earth again;
All the Foresters of Flanders,*—mighty Baldwin Bras de Fer.
Lyderick du Bncq and Creasyt Philip, Guy de Dam pier re.
I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned
those days of old; Stately dames, like qneeus attended,-! knights
who bore the Fleece of Gold;5
Lombard and Venetian merehants with deepladen argosies;
Ministers from twenty natious; more than royal pomp and ease.
l beheld prond Maximilian, kneeling immbly on
the gronnd; l beheld the gentle Mary,« imnting with her
hawk and honnd;
And her lighted bridal-chamber, where a dnke
slept with the qneen. And the armed gnard aronnd them, and the
sword nusheathed between
l beheld the Flemish weavers, with Isamnr and
Jnliers bold, Marehing homeward from the bloody battle of
the Spnrs of Gold,-7
Saw the fight at Mlunewnter,s saw the White
Hoods moving west, Saw great Artevelde victorions scale the Golden
And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land
with terror smote; And again the wild alarnm sonnded from the
Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and
dike of sand, "I am Roland! 1 am Roland! there is victorv in
Then the sonnd of drnms aronsed me. The
awakened city's roar Chased the phantoms l had summonedbackinto
their graves once more.
Honrs had passed away like minntes: and, before l was aware,
Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the snnillnmined sqnare.