Washington sentinel., 1853-10-23
Masbinaton gfntinsl.
welcome to Mrs. II. b. Stowe.

Welcome to Mrs. IL. Ii. Stowe.
We have been permitted, says the Boston
Post, to peruse little satirical poem, by our
friend and correspondent PILIIcoDDLE, with
the above title, from which we have presumed
to make few selections in advance of its pub
lication. 1t will be issued from the press in
New York during the present week. The poem
is a racy production, and its sentiments, though
severe, are marked by the kindness and hui
manity of the author. He cannot write rery
bitterly, though he tries ever so hard. The bent
of the poem is hope that Improvement has
attended the lady addressed in her European
tour, by view of the glaring evils existing
abroad, and that she has brought back with her
better love Of her own country by contrast
of its blessings with the misery of others. The
author asks
Madame Stowe. did you go
Into Cornwall, down below
The green earths surface.
Where with her face
Silver-smiling Madame Stowe,
The moon doth never show
To those degraded, low
And wretched human beings,
How respendent are the seeings
OF the lovely summer nights
So affiuent of delights
Madam Stowe
Where the sun doth never shine
To thousands there, that pine
And labor in the mine
Lifelong with not sign
Nor thought, Madam Stowe,
OF the glorious summer day
. That dawns and fades away
Unielt by them the while,
Yet blessed as Cons smile,
Madam Stowe!
To the deep mine did you 60
The smiling earth below, ...
Miles under ground and damp,
Madame Stowe?
The following picture Of wretchedness is
most vividly drawn
Madame Stowe, did you throw
One angel glance of pity,
When afoot about the city,
On those pale and ghasty weavers;
Tis famine, filth and fevers
That make them pale and ghasty, :.
Madame Stowe
On those Spttalfelds silk-weavers!
Who toll from dawn till night,
Yet, for months are starving quite;
Men and women, lads and maidens,
Whom lifelong grief DER ladens,
Madame Stowe =
Robeless corpses, vet not dead,
Stalled like cattle, but not fed,
fearless, for they have shed
Their last tear long since,
Madame Stowe!
For years their hearts have bled,
Till they're dry Madame Stowe,
And no bow Of promise yet
In their gloomy sky set
Overhead, Madame Stowe!
Pillicoddle, after rapping the dame Of Exc
ter Hall, and the lords and "brazen ladies"
who
pirate Tor hours
OF the good they do in showers
Not AZ home, Madame Stowe
But off ia distant countries"
sums up as follows, and appends a deduction
from his figures forcible and just, though rather
dark
Madame Stowe, II il so
Has happened, then know
You are something wiser home, and better
@ Returned Madame Stowe!
But if il do SO chance,
That from England, Italy and France,
Paris, London, Rome,
You've come home,
Without seeing, yes, and aiding
Some soul, whose strength was fading,
In the Old Worlds popuous and reeking
Hell of Sorrows, Madame Stowe.
And thought how best, beyond compare,
Is the land whose name is there
Freedoms watchword, Madame Stowe
And felt how foul and sad crime
II was TO daub with slime
Your country's name sublimo
Madame Stowe!
Ii this you have not thought,
And love of country brought
In your bosom back
Home Madame Stowe.
Then you're all over black,
And the heart of woman lack,
And you aren't worth the !" smack"
OF Fred Douglass Madame Stowei
The poem will undoubtedly be rapidly circu-
lated We understand that large portion Of
the first edition is disposed of already.