The miners' express. (Dubuque, Iowa) 1849-1854, 1853-08-17
NUMBER 4S.
RAN TOUL.
BY JNo. G. WHITTIER.

One day, along the electric wi,e
His manly word for Freedom sped,
We came next morn; that tongue of FIRE
Said only, "He who spake is dead I"
Dead while his voice was living ve,
In echoes round the pillared dome
Dead while his blotied page lay wet
Nish themes of state an loves of home
Dead IN hat crowning grace Of time,
lhot triumph of LIES zenith hour.
Dead! while we watched his maniyooc' ) or me
Break from the slow bud into flower.
Dead he 80 great and strong end wise,
While the mean thousands yet drew trea.t
How deepened through the dead sufpru:,
The mystery and awe of death
From The high place, wl,ereon our woes
Had trne him clear, calm, earnest, fell
His first words, like the prelud. notns
OF some great anthem yet to swell.
We seemed to see ou- flag un'urled,
Our champion waiting in his place
For The last battle of the world,
The Armageddon Of he race
Through him we hoped to speak the word
Which wins the freedom of l1nd,
And lift, Tor human right, the sword
Which dropped from Hanpden' $ dying hand
For he had sat at Sydney's feet,
And walked with Pym and Vane apart;
And through the centuries, felt the beat
VI Freedom $ Liarch in CromwelI's q heart.
He knew the paths the worthless held,
En-,
And, lingering, drank the sprin s that welIed
Beneath the touch of Milton rod.
No wild enthusiast Of the right,
Self poised and clear, he showed alwav
The GOODNESS of his Northern night,
The ripe repose of autumn day
Ills steps were slow, yet forward still
He pressed where others paused or failed;
The calm star clomb with constant will
The restless meteor flashed and paIed
Skilled in its sub,lest willie, he knew
And owned the higher ends OF Law;
Still rose majestic OH his view
The awful Shape the schoolman saw.
Her home the heart of God, her voice
The choral hdrmonies whereby
The stars, through all their spheres, rejoice,
The rhythmic rule of earth and sky
We saw his great powers misapplied
Topoor ambitions; yet through all,
We saw him take the weaker side,
And right the wronged, and free the thrall
Now, looking DER the frozsn North
For one like him in word and act,
To call her old, free spirit forth,
And give her faith the life of fact
To break her party bonds of shame,
And labor with The zeal of him
To make the Democratic name
Of Liberty the synonym
We sweep the land from hill to strand,
we seek the strong, the wise, the brave,
And, sad OF heart, return to stand
In silence by new made grave
There, where his breezy hills of home
Look out upon his saI-whte seas,
The sounds of winds and waters come,
And shape themselves to words like these:
"Why, murmuring, mourn tha, he, who's.
power
Was lost to Party over long,
Heared the still whisper at the hour
lie set his foot on Party wrongo
"The human life that closed so we'll,
No lapse of folly now can stain;
The lips whence Freedoms protest fell,
No meaner thought can now profane.
"Mightier than living voice his grave
That lofty protest uiters Ger;
Through roaring wind and shifting wave
1t speaks his hate of wrong once more
"Men of the North your weak regret
Is wasted here arise and puy
To Freedom and to him your debt,
BY following where he led the way !"