The weekly Oskaloosa herald. [volume] (Oskaloosa, Iowa) 1855-1885, 1876-11-02

The boatswain bore his harp for him
For he had thought it well a sin
That one so old should helpless go.
"Tis good we treat our aged so.
Good friends, the boatswain said, ~ bring
The poet of the ship to you.
wv ell he can play, and sweetly sing
TO this his harp, whose every string,
Though tuned oft, yet, tuned anew,
May cheer you for an hour or two.
The Harpist.
l.
''Give me the harp, the singer said,
And touched his wierd hand to the Tyre
And, 10! the eye that seemed so dead,
The form, whence life had almost fled,
frightened anew with living fire.
Forgot was age-forgot was pain
The old man lived the boy again.
He swept the cords through many strain,
And sung of youth and love, till we,
Like followers in his knightly train,
Wept DER his touching minstrelsy.
Is 1t not true that men may be
Made angels by some melody?
Have we not lived at times above
The sorrowing earth, and its complaints,
On hearing some sweet tale of love,
Some seraph song of dying saints?
Has not some poet said that we
Are ! chords in Gods great harmony =.
l.
Enough Harpist said
| sing no more of loves young dream,
Of knightly deeds, of lovers wed,
OF hours, of days, too quickly sped,
Mine Is another, nobler theme
Wy cOuntry-born midst blood and tears
Grown sacred by its hundred years.
lis not so long ago that men
Brave men, who feared not storm nor sea,
Crossed to the newborn land of Penn,
Without one thought but to be free:
BraVe men, good men, as well, were they
Who fearless fought the dang rous way
To Plymouth Rock, to Florida
Men who could fight, as well as pray
Nor asked what else their fate might be
In that fair land beyond the sea,
So that it brought them liberty.
They came-and soon their axes rung
By many lake and tangled wood
And midst their labOrs, 10! they sung
For God was in their solitude.
Their struggles none but He may tell
Who watched them on their dang rous way.
How by the lurking foe they fell,
Yet trusted Him, and said ''Tis well,
He leads us to the coming day"
The panther skunk into his lair,
The she-wof hid within her den.
And there was peace and plenty there
For God had blessed the hands of men.
LOl Towns, and States and Cities rose
And tiocks were fed in every glen,
1t was the blOss' ming of the rose,
For God had blessed the hands of men.
Oh! would that Peace might ever rest
Her lheav' My wings on every shore:
Then were mankind divinely blest
And men should learn of war no more.
Pray, pray for that good hour in store,
When men shall learn of war no more.
OH England, England, tell US where,
Where had we wrOnged thee-how, and when2
Hadst thou forgot thy children there,
thy children, yet were men?
Hadst thou forgot that cline, and sea,
And growing years bring wider range,
A larger hope. a destiny
That laws nor wars can ever change?
Thy armies came-thy navies flung
Their flags DER many an inland sea
And soon the hills of England rung
With shouts and thanks for victory.
With shouts and thanks, but echoing there
The answer came from swamp and glen,
You've driven the tiger to his lair
God help you when he comes again.
Towns cities blaZed, barefoOted men
Tramped where our Western rivers flow;
They left their marks behind them, then
In bloody lines on frozen snow.
Twas death-aye, more to them, but know
Men oft nest earn their freedom 80.
Orphans and widows wept in vain,
And armies sank for want of bread;
Death stalked through every wood and plain
And fields were left unharvested.
Still would they yield not-No, beware!
GCd's will Is worked through mans despair
Days, months, and years, they wavered not.
Nor asked the pumber of their foe;
By wounds, by death, they chcaply bought
The rights their grateful children know;
The fairest right that heaven can give
Unfettered in their faith to live.
They conquered, and nation sprung
To life. to greatness in the West;
And the wide world her praises sung,
She was the freest and the best
She was the freest, and the one
Whose soil no tyrant dared to tread
For lOl above, about her shone
The mystery of her sacred dead.
Fate chose but one, but one-twas she,
To lead mankind to liberty.
1t is a century since then
hundred years to-day, and men
Tell all the old tales DER again;
How she was born, our land, how bred
And how the life her children led,
BY faith and peace was hallowed;
How well she kept her promised vow
To lead the way-to help the oppressed
Of every land and cline, and how
Men worshipped her, and she was blest.
How commerce came, and all that fate
Ordains to glOrify state
Waited on her, and she was great.
Each wind that blew, each sail that bent
Seemed like some gift divinely sent
TO help enrich continent.
The world was envious, tOo--but no
Kings could not stop what fate had told;
Hills rocks unbound themselves, and 10!
Their breasts were filled with oil and gold,
What more2 The land was blessed, and grew
Like Eden, fair-but never knew
Like II, she nursed tempter, too.
A tempter-black, fit child of he'll
He came-and half the nation fell.
They fell. and where the daisies grew,
Lo! cannon belched their poisonous breath
And war her red-mouthed trumpet blew,
And wedding morns saw nights of death
The hand of fate lay heavy then.
For God had cursed the ways of men.
Dark months and years, the storm-cloud swept
Her course across widowed land
But, lol the God of battles kept
The Nation in his pitying hand.
At last, at last, the burning smoke
Faded before hel silent guns,
But louder than her cannon spoke
The shroudless bodies of her sons.
Weep, fading clouds-speak, silent guns
An honor these, her fallen ones.
Dead was the tempter-dead the past,
And men forgot their burning hate,
For hates and angers cannot last
With men whose foes were good, or great
Sleep on ye braves, ye shroudless onesl
Men shall not ask which side ye stood:
Enough, ye were the nations sons,
And ye are dead, and God is good.
1t little recks where men have stood,
When Heav'n forgives, and God is good.
Again the peaceful lilie Is bloom,
And kiss the graves of friend and foe:
Again, again, the busy loom
Sends its dear music TO and fro;
Again the hills are gold and red
With shocks and sheaves on every hand
For all the fields are harvested,
And there is plenty In the land.
Plenty and peace, for God again
Has smiled and blessed the hands of men.
And now, where once the wigwam stood,
Upon the Schuylkilfs banks of green,
Where redd ming vines and tangled wood
Hemmed in the fair but dangerous scene
Behold palace, at for kings,
Liftsits fair head unto the skies
And all the land her tribute brings,
And shouts aloud, Friends, all, arise.
This day. this hour, this place must be.
Made sacred to mems liberty.
And here, where all have met to see
The earth's united rivalry,
In all that Is, or yet may be,
They reached their hands to each, and said.
This is the trioute TO our dead
This is the ring with which we wed
The twice-bOrn bride, Columbia
And this the oath. new-sworn to thee,
Land OF our hopes and destiny.
Again the old time-honored SCROLL
Whereon the new worlds faith was writ,
Was shown TO men, and every soul
Thanked God, and wept, at sight of IT.
Thanked God, and wept--it was q sight
Such as men see but once In life.
saw II then-I saw Its birth
What more can one then want Of earth?"
/.
He ceased his music, and the Tyre,
Full-toned, fell at the singers feet.
Gone was the light, the hope, the fire,
Finished the song he sang so sweet.
We bore him 20 the deck above,
Where soft winds kissed his brow and lip
In vain, sweet winds, no breath of love
Could wake the poet OF the ship.
In Freedom's faith his life had passed