The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1853-07-14


man nature ia inscrutable We hope q COZ
public will not let Uncle Tom
Cabin be sacrificed by Paiiais at a iorc,
SALE Ifthey do, the Supreme Court won't
For the National Era.
RANroUL.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
One day, along the electric wire
His manly word for Freedom sped;
We came next morn that tongue Of tre
Said only, He who spako Is dead J"
Dead while his voice was living yet,
In echoes round the pillsred dome;
Dead! while his blotted page lay wet
With themes of state and loves of home
Dead in that browning grace of time,
That triumph of LIES zenith hour!
Dead, while we watched his msnhoods prime
Break from the slow bud into flower
Dead! he so great and strong and wise,
While the mean thousands yet drew breath;
How deepened, through that dread surprise,
The mystery and the awe of death 80
from the high place, wherein our votes
Had borne him, clear, calm, earnest, fell
His first words like the prelude notes
Of some great anthem yet to swell
We seemed to see our flag unfurled,
Our champion waiting in his place
For the last battle of the world,
The Armageddon of the race.
Through him we hoped to speak the word
Which wins the freedom Of land;
And Mt, for human right the sword
Which dropped from Hsmpden's dying hand.
For he had sat at Sydney's feet,
And walked with Pym and Vane apart;
And, thrsngh the centuries, felt the beat
OF Freedoms march in Cromwells heart
He knew the paths the worthless held,
Where England's best and wisest trod;
And, lingering, drank the springs that welled
Beneath the touch of Millions rod.
No wild enthusiast of the right,
Sslfpoised and clear he showed alwsy
The GOODNESS Of his Northern night,
The ripe repose of autumn's day.
His 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 paled
Skilled in its subtlest vile, he knew
And owned the higher ends Of Law
Still rose majestic on his view
The awful Shape tho schoolman saw.
Her home the heart of God her voice
The choral harmonies whereby
The stars, through all their spheres rejoice,
The rhythmic rule of earth and sky
We saw his great powers misapplied
To poor ambitions yet, through all,
We saw him take the weaker side,
And right the wronged and free the thrall
Now, looking DER the frozen North
For one like him in word and act,
To call her DID, 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 tho 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 sailwhite seas,
The sounds of winds and waters come,
And shape themselves TO words like these
" Why, murmuring, mourn that he, whose power
Was lent 10 Party over long,
Heard the still whisper at the hour
He set his foot on Party wrong
" The human life that closed so we'll,
No iapsa of folly now can stain;
The lips whence Freedoms protest fell,
No meaner thought can now profane
"Mightier than living voice bis grave
That lofty protest uttsrs oer
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 pay
To Freedom and to him your debt,
Byfollowing where he led the way"
No more fitting inscription could be placed OF
e tombstone OF Robert Rantoul than this " HI
ed at his post in Congress, and his last words were
protest in the name Of Democracy against the Flu