Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1848-06-30

Hung over the western hill.
Black, thick, and vast, arose that cloud
Above the wilderness,
AS some dark world from upper air
Were STOPPING over this.
At times, the solemn thunder pealed,
And all was still again,
Save a low murmur in the air
OF coming wind and rain.
Just as the first big rain-drop fell,
A weary stranger came,
And stood before the farmers door,
With travel soiled and lame.
Sad seemed he, yet sustaining hope
Was in his quiet glance,
And peace, like autumn's moonlight, clothed
His tranquil countenance.
A look, like that his Master wore
In Pilates council hall:
1t told of wrongs-but Of a love
Meekly forgiving all.
" Friend wilt thou give Inc shelter here! ="
The stranger meekly said
And. leaning on his oaken staff,
The goodman's features read.
"My life is hunted-evil men
Are following in my track;
The traces Of the torturer's whip
Are on my aged back.
"And much, l fear, twill peril thee
Within thy doors to take
A hunted seeker of the Truth,
Oppressed for conscience sake"
Oh, kindly spoke the %goodman's wife
"Come in, old mani" quoth she,-
We will not leave thee to the storm
Whoever thou may'st be-"
Then came the aged wanderer in
And silent sat him down;
While all within grew dark as night
Beneath the storm-cloud's frown.
But while the sudden lightning's blaze
Filled every cottage nook,
And with the jarring thunder-roll
The loosened easements shook,
The heavy tramp of horses feet
Game sounding up the lane,
And half a score Of horse, or more,
Came pIunging through the rain.
snow, Goodman Macy, ope thy door,
We would not be house-breakers;
A ruefel deed thou'st done this day,
In harboring banished Quakers."
Out looked the cautious goodman then,
With much of fear and awe,
For there, with broad wig drenched with rain,
The Parish Priest he saw.
"Open thy door, thou wicked man,
And let thy pastor in,
And give God thanks, if forty stripes
Repay thy deadly SIM"
"What seek ye quoth the goodman
1.-The stranger is my guest;
He is worn with toll and g~rievous wrong,-
Pray let the old man rest"
snow, out upon thee, canting knave!"
And strong hands shook the door,
"Believe me, Macy" quoth the Priest,-
"Thou'lt rue thy conduct sore."
Then kindled Macey's eye of fire
"No priest who walks the earth,
Shall pluck away the stranger-guest
Made welcome TO my hearth"
Down from his cottage wall he caught
The matchbox holly tried
AT Presion-pans and Marston-moor,
BY fiery lTeton's side;
Where Puritan and Cavalier,
With shout and psalm commended
And Rupert's oath, and CromwelFs prayer
With battle-lhunder blended.
Up rose the ancient stranger then:
My spirit is not free
To bring the wrath and violence
OF evil men on thee:
Sand for myself, | pray forbear,-
Bethink thee of thy Lord,
Who healed again the smitten ear,
And sheathed his followers sword.
81 90, as to the slaughter led
Friends of the poor, farewell"
Beneath his hand the oaken door,
Back on its hinges fell.
"Come forth, old gray-beard, yea and nay
The reckless ~scoffers cried,
As to a horseman's saddle bow
The old mans arms were tied.
And of his bondage hard and long
In Boston's crowded Jail,
Where suffering woman's prayer was hea
With siekening childhood's wall,
II suits not with our tail to tell:
Those scenes have passed away
Let the dim shadows of the past,
Brood Ger that evil day.
"Ho, Sheriff." quoth the ardent Priest
flake goodman Macy too;
The sin of this days heresy,
His back or purse shall rue"
And Priest and Sheriff, both together
Upon his thTesheld sliced,