Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1861-12-18
4uttrp,
Freedom.

Never have verses fallen from poets PEI
which had more, and wider-reaehing truth
than the following by the liOn-hearted Lowell
He has written what the world will not willing
ly let die -
When deed is done for Freedom, through tn
broad earth S aching breast
Runs thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on iron
East to West;
And the slave where'e he covers, feels the sou
within him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy
sublime
Of a century bursts fuli-blOssomed on the thornl
stem of Time.
Through the walls of hut and palace shoots tn,
instantaneous throe,
When the travail of the Ages wrings earth
systems TO and fro;
At the birth of each new era, with recogniz
ing start,
Nation wildly looks on nation, standing with
mute lips apart,
And glad Truths yet mightier nan-child leaps
beneath the Futures heart.
For mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct
bears along,
Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash
of right or wrong;
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Human
ity's vast fame,
Through its ocean -sundered fbres. feels the
gush Of joy or sAamei ..-
In the gain or loss of one race, all the rest have
equal claim.
Once, to every man and nation, come the mo
ment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with FalsehoOd, for the
good or evil side;
Some great cause, Gods nep Messiah, offering
each the bloom or blight,
Parts the goats upon the left hand and the sheep
upon the right,
And the choice goes by forsUer, 'twixt that dark
ness and that light.
Hast thou chosen, o, my paOple, on whose par
tY thou shalt stand,
Ere the doom from its worn sandals shakes the
dust against our land?
Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet It's Truth
alone is strong;
And albeit che wander outsast now, see a.
round her throng
Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her
from all wrong.
We see dimly. in the Present, what is small and
what is great
Slow of faith how weak an army may turn the
helm of Fate;
But the soul is still oraeular-amid the MR.
kets din,
List the ominous stern whisper from the Del
phie cave withinl
They ensIa1e their ehildTsn'S children, irh0 make
compromise Icifh SIM
Slavery. the enth h-bOrn Cyclops, feIlest of the
giant brood,
Sons OF british Farce and Darkness, who have
drenehed the earth with blood.
Famished in his self-msde desert, blinded by
our purer day,
Gropes in yet unblasted regions for his miser-
able prey;
Shall We guide his CORY fingers where our help
less children play?
'Tis as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves
Of q legendary virtue carved upon our Fathers
graves;
WOrshippers of light ancestral make The present
light crime.
Was the Mayfower launched by towards?
steered by men behind tkeir tiTne2
Turn those tracks toward Past. or Fa..Te, that
make Plymouth Rcck sublime?
Taey were men of present valOr-stalwart old
ieoneclasts;
UneOnvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue
was the Past's,
But We make their truth our falshooJ, thinking
that has made us free,
Hoarding it in mouldy parehments, while our
tender spirits flee
The rude grasp of that great Impulse which
drove them across the sea.
Neio occasions teach nelr dufiest Time makes
ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward, who
would keep abreast of Truth;
Lo. before Us gleam her camp fires we ouseIucs
must Pilgrims be,
Launch our Nayfower. and steer boldly tliro'
the desperate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Futures portal with the Past's
bloed-rusted key.