New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1874-06-21

As. through night OF storm, some tail.
Strong light house Lifts its steady fame.
Beyond the dust and smoke he saw
The sheaves of freedoms large increase,
The holy fanes Of equal law,
The New Jerusalem Of peace.
No wall was in his voice-none heard
When treasons stOrm-clOud blackest grew
The weakness of Q doubtful word,
His duty, and the end he knew
The first to smite the first to spare;
When once the hostile engines fell,
He stretched out hands of generous care
To lift the foe he fought SO we'll
For there was nothing base or email
Or craven in his souis broad plan;
FOrgiving all things personal
he hated only y r0ng to man.
The old traditions of his State,
The m emories of her gre at and good,
Took fro N his life tresher date,
And in himself embodied stood.
How felt the greed Of gold ano place,
The venal crew that schemed and planned,
The fine scsr n OF that naughty face,
The spurni ng OF that bTIbeless baDd3
II than Rome's tribune's stateIier
He wore his senatorial robe,
His lofty port was all for her,
The one dear spot on all the globe
IL TO the masters plea ne gave
The vast contempt his manhood felt,
He saw a bro Their in the slave
With man Us equal man he dealt.
Proud was her Il his presence kept
Its grande UT wheresO'er he trOd,
As If nom Plutarch's gallery stepped
The hero and the demgod.
None failed. at least, to reach his ear,
Nor want nor woe appealed in vain
The hOmesick soldier knew his cheer,
And blessed him from his ward of pain.
Safely his de Arrest frie1 DIS NAV own
The slight defects he never hid,
The surface blemish in the stone
OF the tall, stately pyramid.
Suffice it that he never brought
His conscience to the public mart;
But lived himself the truth he taught,
White-souled, clean handed, pure Of heart,
What if he felt the natural pride
Of power in noble use, reO true
With thin humilities to hide
The work he diO, the lore he knewi
Was he not justl Was any wronged
By that assured selfestimatei
He took but what to him belonged,
unenvious Of SnOther's state.
Well might he heed the words he spake,
And scan with care rhe written page
Through which he still shall warm and wake
Inc neaftS Oh men from age 70 age.
Al! who shall blame him now because
He sOla ced thus MS hours of pain
Should not the o'erworu thresher pause,
And hold to lig hit his golden grant
No sense of hunor dropped its oil
On the hard ways MS purpose went;
Small play of fancy Eghtened toll;
He spake ale ne the thing he meant.
He loved bis books the Art that hints
A beauty yelled behind its own,
The graver's lines, the pencils tints.
The chisels shape evoked from stone.
He cherished void of selfish ends,
The social courteses that bless
And sweeten life, ard loved his friends
With most unwOridly tenderness.
But It'll his tired eyes rarely learned
The glad relief by nature brought;
Her mountain ranges never turned
His current OF persistent thought.
The sea rolled chorus to his speech.
The pine grove whispered OF his theme:
Wbereer he wandered, rock and beach
Were Forum and the ACademe.
The sensuous joy from all things fair
His strenuous bent of soul depressed,
And left from youth to silvered hair
Few hours for pleasure, none for rest.
For all his life was poor without;
Train all thy flowers his grave about,
Aud make thy singing birds his friends.
Revive again, thou summer rain,
The broken turf upon his bed
Breathe, summer wind, tiny tenderest strain
OF low, sweet music overhead.
Nor can't nor poor solicitudes
Made weak his life great argument;
Small leisure his for frames and moods
Who follow ed duty where she went.
The broad, fail fields of God he saw
Beyond the bigOt's narrow bound;
The truths he mold. d into law,
In Christs beatitudes he found.
His State craft was the Golden Rule,
His right of vote sacred trus;
Clear, over threat and ridicule,
All heard his challenge: is it justf'
And when the hour supreme had come,
Not for himself a thought he gave;
In that last pang of martyrdom
His care was tor tine ha1freed slave.
Not vainly dusky hands upbore.
In pray er, the passing soul to heaven,
w hose mercy to the suffering poor
Was service to the Master given.
Long shall the good States annals tell,
Her children's children long, be taught,
How, pl aised or blamed, he guarded well
The trust he neither Stunned nor sought.
If for one moment turned thy face
mother, from thy son, not long
He waited calmly in bis place
The sure remOrse which follows wrong.
Forgiven be the State he loved
The one brief lapse, he single blot;
Forgotten be the stain removed,
Her righted record shows it not.
The lifted sword above her shield
With Jealous care shall guard his fame;
The plne.tree on her ancient field
To ali the winds shall speak his name.
The marble image of her son
Her loving hands shall yearly crown.
And from her pictured Pantheon
His grand, majestic face look down.
o State so passing rich before
Who now shall doubt thy highest claim1
The world that counts thy Jewels DER
Shall longest pause at summers namei