The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1869-02-21
Ghe 8sm Orleans @resrnf.
SUNDAY MORNING. FEBRUARY II. 1859
A NOBLE POEM.

- NODAE EO4.'
The following beautiful and manly stanzas
were. in part, published some time since In
paper in Albany, N. Y, of which city the gifted
author is . citizen. They have since been revised
and added to:
/ saw nation glorious and free,
Leading darkened world TO liberty,
Fret in the van, impetuous to strike
The fostering chains from limb and soul alike,
Ear DER the resr.ward legions shining CLEAN
Her star-gemmed banners. Was II but dream!
Her life was young her poets. fresh and bold,
Sang hymns prophetic, centuries foretold
or peace and plenty; eloquent and wise
And pure and Just jurists and statesmen rise
To shape her destinies. God. like scheme
OF right triumphant. Was II but dream,
No long. dark records Of q bsrbsrous age,
or blood and rspire, dimmed Ter history's page,
No feudsl chisftsin held her virgin soil.
No conquering despot seized her for his spoil,
An equal people held the power supreme
With law and order. Was it but dream,
The latest and the noblest born of time,
Her mission and her destiny sublime
Peoples to fuse with peoples, and restore
Heavens first design that war should rage no
The abject, waiIing nations to redeem,
And band them brothers. Was il bat dream!
The teeming west-a continsnt-her domain.
Where abe sat peerless in her gentle reign,
The sun, uprising from his Atlantic bed,
On her bread brow his Eosea.e honor. sasa' $3.50.
Warmed the Pacific. Was 1t but dreamf
Strong was she In her fresh exubersnt health,
Ships, mines, fields, workshops, deluged her Wit
wealth,
New statss-young empires-from the prolific
stock,
In vast accretions lock and interlock,
BY bonds Of kin, faith. interest, it would seem
Welded forever. Was 1t but dream!
Pale in the somber weeds of widowhood,
Her broad fields ridged and furrowed, wave on
Wars cruel tillage--hsrvest of the grave,
| I saw her dungeons foul with victims teen.
| And hate, wrong, greed hold sway. Was II
dream!
| Her sacred laws, her cherished memories,
| Her proud traditiens-all the good and wise
| or her best days could teach-control no more (;
l Her creedsare blotted out with tears and gore,
| Her priests between the porch and altar scream
| Frantic for blood. All, God ! Is 1t dream
/ Hosts against hosts, who lately hand with hand
Grasped kindly, now IN ranks embsttled stend,
| And bsyonet thrust, and hiss Of shot and smell,
| And shrek and groan, the tale Of horror tell.
| Meek Saviour hear not frantic men blsspheme
| Who now invoke thee Is it but dream
| Death in the field, death In the crowded camp,
| Death on the march, death In the bvousc damp,
Death in the cell, death in geunt famlne's clasp,
Deaths victims fall too fast for sense TO grasp,
Der all the blighted land death reigns supreme
And hell rejoices. Is il but dream?
So horror upon horror CHASTITY grew,
Who talked Of pity TO the infuriste crew
| With curse and yell was slenced, till at last
\ The vepgeful storm exhausted blight and blast,
| Ceased from the sod the red hot blood TO steam
| Sick with revenge We rest. Is II dream
Peace, yet no peace, blind passion still hold
| sway,
| Malice and hate insstste hug their prey,
| Greedy for plumber, drunk with lawless power,
| Fierce Anarchs rule the woe begotten hour,
| And al that Just or merciful We deem
| Franuc and scofting spurn. Is it q dream?
| "Va victis ~ ia the cry with fury frsught,
| Warning and prayer are scornsd and set
nsught,
! False as cogged dice the shameful ballots chea
| Prescription ruin, make the wreck complete,
| And ouiens teach us that again may stream
l The blood so newly stanched. Is it dreamy
| Dsy.stsr of Freedom, sinking into night,
| Must We forever lose thy holy lights
| II we now suffer thee to set in gloom,
| Ours Is the crime we well deserve our doom;
Gods vengeful thunders gather; ere they brea
And shatter and destroy rs, let rs wake.