The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1870-12-30

As SPOKEN BY IN. r. O. HEDnARD, SHAW
HALL, TUESDAY EVE.
Whence came those shrieks the startled air
Seems loaded with some wild despair
Whence came theyi From yon temple, where
An altar Is raised to private prayer,
Now forms warriors marble bed,
Who warsaw's gallant army led.
The funeral hpers dimly throw
Their beams upon his death damp brow,
Outrivalled by tho flashing eye
or young boy that = kneellng by.
Whose hand IL that, whose freniicd clasp,
Clings TO the dead with deaths own graspf
II Is the hand Of her, whose cry
Rang wildly out upon the air -
when the dead warrior met her eye,
Outstretched upon the altar there.
Now with pale cheeks and stony eye,
She murmurs forth her misery.
But bark the heavy tramp Of feet,
Tramp, tramp, along the gloomy street,
While clankiDg arms, but noiseless drum,
Tell whence the host of rufiians come.
They leave the pavemcnt-howers that spread
Their perfume by the path they tread
Are crushed and broken; crimson hands
Rend brutally their tender bands.
With one loud crash the gate Is burst,
And in they rush. that band accursel,
Demanding in hendish yell,
The startled boy for slavery's hell.
The mother sprang with gestures wild,
And to her bosom snatched the child,
While with msniac's flashing eye,
She shriekd with maddening energy,
"Bsck, ruffsns, back, nor dare 10 blot,
With one vile foot this holy spot,
Nor touch my boy, his mother stands
Between him and your fendsh bands.
No traitor he. but monsters,
Am, will be traitor till die.
cheered my lord to join the band
or those who strove to free our land,
And when this burning heart he pressed
The last fond moment TO his breast,
I knew that soon his form would be,
Lo as II is, or Poland free
But he is dead. the good, the brave,
And his wife am worse, n slave
Take me and bind these arms, these hands,
And drag me midst your loathsome bands
To Russia or Siberia wild.
To starye, to rot. but save my child ]"
"Pcace woman, peace - the leader cried,
Tearing the pale boy from her side,
And in his ruffian grasp he bore,
His victim to the temple door. n
some moment" shrieked the mother, zone.
Can land or gold re,iecm my sonf
If 30. bend my Polish knee,
And even ask boon OF thee!
Take lands. take palaces, take all
But leave him free!-sce, here fall
Low at thy feet"--and her white arms and hands
She stripped Of rings and diamond bands,
Uncasped her cross Of coronal.
or rubics and Of orient pearl.
Aud every gem from first to last,
Down to the Russians feet she cast
And as he stopped to seize the store,
Upspringing from the marble floor,
The mother with a cry Of joy,
Suatched to her lcaping heart the boy!
But no, the Russians iron grasp
Again undid that mothers clasp.
Forward she fell, with one long cry
or more than mortal agony.
But the brave boy Is reused at length,
And breaking from the Russians hold,
He stands giant In the strength
or his young spirit, fierce and hold.
Proudly he towers, his flashing eye
Seems lighted from the eternal sky,
His curling lip and crimson cheeks
Foretell his thought. and then he speaks:
aye hold me not, no, no, nor can.
This hour has made the boy man!
The world shall know there Is one soul,
Fears not 10 prove itself Pole.
knelt beside my slaughtered sire,
Nor felt one throb Of yengeful ire,
wept upon his marble brow.
Yes, wept. Twas child, but now,
My noble mother ON her knee,
Begging boon of such rs thee,
Has done the work Of years for me.
Know then that have ample power
Tc free myself this very hour
This dagger in my heart. and then
Where Is your boastcd power, base mcnf
Tia, start We back, fool coward knaye
Think ye my noble fathers grave
Would drink the life blood Of slayef
The pearls that ON this handle fame
Would blush 70 rubics in their shame,
The blade would quiyer in thy breast,
Ashamed Of such ignoblc rest.
No, thus rend the tyrant's chain.
And fling him back boys disiain."
A moment, and the funeral light t#
Flashed on the jewclled weapon bright,
Another and his young hearts blood
Lcaped to the floor crimson food.
Quick to his mothers side he sprang,
And ON the air his clear voice rang,
"Up, mother, up, I'm free I'm free
They cannnot fastcn chains on me. 10
Up, mother, up, see what I've done,
See how I've freed thy chieftain's son -
No look. no word. .can'st thou not feel
My warm blood o'er thy heart CONCEAL!
Speak. mother, speak, lift up thy head ul
What. silent still then thou art fed. i.
Thank Heaven my mother too Is free !!
Now ruttians mock our misery J"
Slowly he falls, the clustering hair
Rolls hack, and o'er his features, prayer
One instant fiits, then one long breath,
And frccdom's triumph is the smile OF death.