Delaware State journal and statesman., 1862-02-07
From the Atlantic Monthly Tor February.
AT PORT ROYAL.-1e6l.
by ). O. WHITTIER.


TINS tent-lights ellmmer on the land,
The ship-lghts on the sea;
The night wind smooths with drifting sand
Our track on lone Tybee.
At last our grating keels outside,
Our good boats forward swing;
Aud while we ride the land locked tide,
Our negroes row and sing.
For dear the hOndman holds his gifts
OF music and of song
The gold that kindly Nature aifts
Among his sands of wrong;
The power to make his toiling days
And poor home comforts please;
The quaint relief of mirth that plays
With sorrows minor keys
Another glow than sunsets fire
Has filed the West with light,
Where field and garner, barn and byrs
Are blazing through the night.
The land is wild with fear and hate,
The rout runs mad aud fast
From hand to hand, from gate to gate,
The flaming brand 10 passed.
The lurd glow falls strong across
Dark faces broad with smiles:
Not theirs the terror. hate, and loss
That fire yOn blazing piles.
With oar-stroke timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The palhos Of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days
The trumpet note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncagel birds;
SofteDing with ATric's mellow tongue
THEFT broken Saxon words.
[sONG BY TUE NEGRO BoATMAN.l
Oh. praise an tanks DE Lord he come
To set lie people free;
An massa tink il day of doom,
An We Oh jubilee.
DE Lord dat heap de Red See waves
lie jus as 'irong as den;
lie say de word We las night slaves;
To day, de Lords freemen,
DE yam will grow, de cotton blow,
Wen hab de rice an corn;
oh, nehber you fear, If nehber you hear
DE driver blow his horn
Ole massn on be trabbles gone;
lie leab de lnnd behind;
De Lords brefl blow him furder on,
Llke'corn shuck in de wind
We own de hoe, we own de pillow,
We own de nnds dat hold
We sell de pig we sell de COW,
But neber chile be sold
DE yam will grow, de cotton blow,
Wen heb de rice an corn:
Oh, nebber you fear, il nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn
We pray de Lord he gin US signs
Dat some day we be free;
De Norf-wind tell il TO de pines,
De wildduek to de sea
We iiuk il when de church bell ring
We dream il in de dream;
De bird mean il when he sing,
De eagle when lie scream.
DE yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice au corn:
Oh, nebber you fear, II nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn
We know de promise nebber fail.
Au' nebber lie de word
So, like dc postes in de Jail,
We waited for de Lord
An now he open cherry door,
An trow away de key;
He tlnk we lnb him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll glib de rice an' corn:
So nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
DE driver blow his horn
SO sing our dusky gondoliers
And with secret pain,
And smiles that seems akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negros trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We Ouly know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarihy face,
Flame lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or i'll;
That laws Of chaugeless JUSTICE bind
Opptessor from oppressed;
And. close as sin aud suffering Joined,
We march to Fate abreast
Sing on, poor hearts your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom
The Vala-aong Of Liberty
Or death tupe of our doom