The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1874-06-30
SUMNER.
RY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ltiment by def0rm1ty OF Conduct OF Ine nn Ia.
the grace of God, 1 have kept my lie unsn-
d .D-Miltons Defense OF the People OF Eng
ID. rl,.
O mother STATED the winds Of March
Blew chill DER Auburn's Field of Cod
Where slow, beneath a leaden arcn
OF sky thy mourning children trod
And now with all thy woods in leaf,
sshy 6slds in flower, beside thy deao
Thou sittest in thy robes OF GRIEF,
A Rachel yet uncontrolled!
And once again the organ swells,
Once more the flag is half way hung, e1
And vet again the mournful Dells
In all thy steeple-towers are rung. -
And /, obedient TO thy will, atia
Have come a simple wreath 70 lay, 49,
Superffuous, ON grave that stln
Is sweet vim all the flowers OF May. ~
I take. with awe, the task assigned;
1t may be that nay friend might miss
In his new sphere of heart and MIND, --r-.-
Some token from my hand in this.
By many a tender memory moved, tru
Along the past my thought send. f.-
The record OF the cause he loved
Ts the best record of its friend -
What hath been said, can but say; -,
All know the work that brave man did,
For he was open as the day,
sAnd nothing OF himself he hid.
No trumpet sounded in his ear,
He saw not Sinai's cloud and flame,
But never yet to Hebrew seer
A clearer voice of duty came.
God said: Break thou these yokes; unuO
These heavy burdens. i orda1n -.
a work to last thy whole life through,
A mfaistry of strife and pain.
Forego thy dreams of lettered ease,
Put thou the scholars promise Dy,
The rights OF man are more IMAM tneSe.
He heard and answered: "Here am "
He set his face against the blast,
His feet against the fiinty shaId,
Till the hard service grew, at last,
Itsown exceeding great reward
The fixed star of his faith, through all
Loss, doubt and peril, shone the same,
AS through a'night of storm, some tall.
Strong lighthouse lifts its steady name'
Revond 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 treason 5 storm-cloua blacklist grew
The weakness. of a doubtful word,
His duty, and the end, he knew.
The first TO snite, the first to spare;
When once the hostile ensigns fell,
He stretched out hands of generous care
To lift the foe he fought so well.
For there was nothing base or small
Or craven in his souls broad plani
Forgiving all things personal.
He hated only wrong 10 man.
The old trsdiuons of his state,
The memories of her g eat and good, -
Took from mis- life fresher date,
And in himself embodied stood.
How felt the greed OF gold ana place,
The venal crew that schemed and planned
The fine scorn of that naughty race,
The spuTning of that br1beleSS manu.
If than Rome's tribunes statelier
He wore his senatorial robe,
His lofty port was all for her,
The one dear spot on all the globe.
III to the masters plea he gave
The vast contempt his manhood felt,
He saw a brother in the slave
With man as equal man ne dealt.
Proud was he? If his presence kept
Its grandeur wheresoe'er he trod,
As If from Plutarch's ga lery stepped
The hero and the demi-gOd,
None failed, at least, to reach !, his ear,
Nor want nor woe appealed IN Valn'
The home-sick soldier knew his cheef,
And blessed him from his ward of pain.
Safely his dearest friends may own
The slight defects he never hidI
The surface bemiSh in the stone
OF the tall, stately pyramid.
Suffice il 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 Il he felt the natural pflde
OF power in noble use, too true
With thin humilitieS to hide
The work he aid. the lore he knew?
Was he not Just? Was any wronged
By that assured self-estimate?
He took but what to him belonged,
Well might ne heed the words he Spake,
And scan with care the written page
Through which he still shall warm and wake
The hearts of men from age TO age.
All! who shall blame him now because
He solaced thus his hours of pain?
Should not the o'erworn thTesner pause
And hold to light his golden gralnT
No sense of humor dropped its oil
On the hard ways his purpose went;
Small play of fancy lightened toll;
IL he. DIR a q
He loved his books, the Art that hints
A beauty vailed beyond its own,
The graver's line, the pencils tlnts,
The chisel's shape evoked from stone
He cherished, void of selfish ends,
The ociai cOurtesies that bless
And sweeten life, and loved his friends
With most unworldly tenderness.
But still 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-grOye whispered of his theme;
Where'er ne wandered, rock and beach
Were Forum and the Academic
The sen suOus Joy from all things falr
His strenuous bent of soul repressed,
And left from youth to SilVered hair
Few hours for pleasure, none for rest.
For all his life was poor without;
Oh Nature. make the last amends;
Train all thy flowers his grave about,
And make tiny singing birds his friends!
Revive again. thou summer rain,
The broken turf upon his bed!
Breathe, summer wind, thy tenderest strai
OF low, sweet music overhead.
Nor cant nor poor sol citudeS
Made weak his life's great argument;
Small leisure his for frames and moods
Who followed duty where she went.
The broad, fair fields of God he saw
Beyond the bigOt's narrow bound;
The truths he nodded into law,
In Christ's beatitudes he found
His State-craft was the Golden Rule,
His right OF vote a sacred trust;
Clear. over threat and ridicule,
All heard his challenge: Sis 1T tuSt?
Aud when the hour supreme had come,
Not for himself a thought he gave;
In that last hour of martyrdom,
His care was for the half-freed slave.
Not vainly dusky hands upb0re,
In prayer, the passing soul to heaven
Whose mercy to the suffering poor
Was service to the Master given.
Long shall the good states annals tell,
Her childIen's children long be taught,
How, praised or blamed, he guarded well
The trust he neither Stunned nor sought.
If for one moment turned thy face
o Mother, from thy son, not long
He waited calmly in his place
The sure remorse which follows wrong.