The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-10-16
For the National Era.
THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES.*

have been thinking of the victims bound
In Naples dying for the lack of air
And sunshine, in their cold, damp cells Of pain
Where hope is not and innocence in vain
Appeals against the torture and the chain
Unfartunates whose crime it was to share
Our common love offreedom and to dare,
in its behalf RoIncs hGfl0s t77Pe-erOwned
And her base pander, the me st hateful thing
WIN Upoa Ghgistian az on Pegan g,sUud
Makes vile the old heroic name of king.
Oh, God most merciful Father just and kind
Whom man hath bound let Thy right hand unbind
Or, if Thy purposes of good behind
Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find
Strong consultations; leave them not to doubt
Thy Provdential care, yet without
The hope which all Thy attributes inspire,
That not in vain the martyrs robe of fire
Is worn, nor the sad prisoners fretting chain,
Since all who suffer for Thy truth send forth
Electrical with every throb of pain,
Unquenchable sparks, Thy own baptismal rain
Of fire and spirit over all the earth,
Making the dead in slavery live again
Let this great hope be with them, as they lie
Shut from the light, the greenness, and the sky,
From the cool waters and the pleasant breeze
The smell of flowers, and shade of summer trees,
Bound with the lelon epers whom disease
And sins abhorred make oathsomei lot them share
Pcllico's faith, Forestes strength to bear
Years of unutterabe torment, stern and still,
As the chained Titan victor through his will
Comfort them with Thy future; let them see
The day dawn of Italian liberty
For that with all good things, is hid with Thee,
And perfect in Thy thought awaits its time TO be
/, who have spoken for freedom at the cost
OF some weak friendships or some paltry prize
Ofnamo or place and, more than have lost,
Have gained in wider reach of sympathies,
And free communion with the good and wise
May God forbid that should ever boast
Such easy selfdenial, repino
That the strong pulse of health no moro is mine
That, oyerworn at MONDAY, must yield
To other hands the cleaning of the field
A tired on-iOoker through une day decline.
For blest beyond deserving still, and knowing
That kindly Providence its care is showing
In the withdrawal rs in the bestowing,
Scarcely dare for more or less to pray
Beautiful yet for me this autumn day
Mclts on its sunset hills and, far away,
For me the Ocean hits ITS solemn psalm,
To me the pine woods whisper; and for mo
Yon river winding through its ya1cs of calm
BY grcenest banks with astcrs purplc-starred.
And gontian bloom and goldcn-rod made gay,
Flows down in silent gladness TO the sea,
Like pure spirit to ts great reward!
Nor lack friends, long tried and near and dear,
Whose love is round me like an atmosphere
Warm soft and golden, For such gifts to me,
What shall | render, Oh my God, to Thee
Let me not dwell upon my lighter share
OF pain and i'll that human life must hear
Save me from selfish pining lot my heart,
Drawn from itself in sympathy forget
The bitter longings of vain regret
The anguish of its own peculiar smart;
Remembering others, as l have to-day,
In their great sorrows, let me live alway
Not for myself alone, but have part,
Such as a frail and erring spirit may,
In love which is of Thee and which indeed Thou art !
j. G.. w
Isl 10Th mo-. 1851.