Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1856-07-26
Communications
Dor the Bugle.
A L P H 0 N s 0.
A TALE OF TIE SOUTH.
BY c. LOUISA MORGAN.

And songs OF bir6s amid thine amaranth bowers,
And fancied those to whom such home is given
Might dwell in bliss and scarcely dream Of heaven.
But land of beauty. now ! turn no more
With longing toward thy bi ight and sunny shore
For though to outward sight, thou seemest so lair
Thy brightness wells but ruin and despairl
Where once thy stately mansions charmed the
The fierce wolf howls, and the dread panther
cries.
Wild weeds grow rank where bloomed the garden
q flowers.
And serpents hiss amid thy faircst bowers,
Aad all this loveliness and light and bloom,
Is but a tinsel glare to gid the gloom.
And awful blackness Of the yawning tomb.
In vain o guilty land Of blood and woe
Shall Heaven on thee her choicest gifts ,cstowl
There breathes no blessing in the balmy air
To calm the storms of fury and despair.
Can sunny skies pr fuwery wales make blest
While the dark curse Of Cain on thee doth rest?
A brothers. blood from thee for vengeance cries;
Col hears in Heaven and he will yet arise,
Even now His thunders low but deep appal.
And soon the lightning of his wrath will fall!
II human pen could paint, or human tongue
Relate, but halt the tale of shame, and wrong,
The deeds of horror that each day are done,
Beneath the radiance Of thy genial sun.
The astonished world would stand aghast to hear
And faint with sickeniug horror, c!ote it's ear.
But sometimes when the hand Of genius throws
Enchantmen, Ger II tale Of direst woes,
The generous blood in human veins will start
And indignation swell IA nations heart.
As lishtnings f .shing from nights sable skies
Reveal a~hysses to lone wanderers eyes,
So should the Poets p tent pen of flame,
Our country's depths Of infan'y proclaim,
Show ruins gulis with more than lightning glare
That men might see their danger, and bewaie.
O., would the Poets wondrous harp we're mine!
And mine the hand to wake its strains divine;
The charms of Nature, skies Of laughing blue,
The summers flowers of every varied hue,
The song of birds, the flash Of silvery rills,
The wild deer bounding Ger the breezy hills
Though dear, should never win me from the
thought
OF the great ruin human guilt hath wrought
On this fair earth. o mine should De a strain
To soothe the spirit, crushed 10y grief and pain,
Soft as the hreeze that rocks the wild birds nest,
Breathing of hope to souls by wron,; oppressed;
But or the Tyrant's head should fercely fall
A thunderbolt, to startls and appal.
Child Of a race long crashed by wrong and scorr
Bat with a spirit warmed by freedoms fire,
lIad'st thou in Rome, or Hungary Leen born
Thou had'st not needed my poor simple Tyre
To tune thy praise; proud lords thy fame ha
sung
And fairest hands the garland Ger thee flung.
Better, far better had it been for thee
Hapless Alphunso, had thy lot been cast
On some lone island Of the desert sea
Or on Arabian Desert, lone and vast;
Better to dwell on Iceland's barren strand
Or wander, homeless DER Siberia's plains,
Tl.an toll "A Christian slave in this free land,
And drag beneath ,ur Wanting flag, thy chains
The southern sunsets golden light is falling
Upon De Varu's fair and princely home;
No sound il heard save bird to bird soft calling
In dulcet tones amid the bowers of bloom,
Or the low murmur of the fountains fall,
Or music cchuing through the princely Hall.
Sach peaceful calm. such holy qrietude
Seems Ger this lonely Paradise to brood,
You would have deemed this spot, at least, we
free
From human guilt and human misery,
A spot the bel penis trail had never cursed.
Where foul revenge and hate, were never nursed
Where bright winged seraphs from their betl
home
Might pause awhile and scarcely wish 10 roam.
But come with me where Ger yon ricerobed plat
DE Varu's bondmen drag Their CALLING chains,
From the first dawn OF mornings hated light,
Till fall the quiet shade of welcome night
Driven meath the slave-whip to their unpaid toll,
They till with breaking heart = tyrant's soil.
No bowers Of pleasure. or soft beds of ease,
Await them when the weary day is DER;
But the coarse MOI sci. and the cabin floor,
Where stretched in sleep, 2erchance their w
forget;
Fur a brief time in pleasant dreams they stray,
But all TOO soon to waken: IIapless lot,
For with the first faint dawn of coming day
The drivers horn will call to toll away.
The light is fading from the sunset skies.
Tie hreezes through the dusky pine tops moan,
The first fain stars are beamil.g from the skies
In her rude hut Elnora sits alone
While bitter tears o'erfuw her griefdimmed eye
And her pale lips are parted with a moan.
You would have said had you hut seen her there
With her coarse garb, bare feet, and unbou
hair
"Sure'y chat matchless form and lovely face
Night well your Halls Of pride, and splend
grace.
M fairer dame beneath that roof is seen
Arrayed in costly robes on satin sheen;
There jewels gIisreh upon arms less fair,
Aud diamonds shed their starry iastre rare
Over. the midnight of less glsssy aair;o
But woe for wrunged Elnora! never more
Shall ope to her yon lordly mansion's door;
No more within those Halls will she be seen
Stately and beautiful. the honored Queen.
From heucsforth naught of gladness shall
know;
Her cup If bitterness must still o'erHow.