Читать книгу The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 11, No. 65, March, 1863 - Various - Страница 2

  Yes, tyrants, you hate us, and fear while you hate

  The self-ruling, chain-breaking, throne-shaking State!

  The night-birds dread morning,—your instinct is true,—

  The day-star of Freedom brings midnight for you!

  Why plead with the deaf for the cause of mankind?

  The owl hoots at noon that the eagle is blind!

  "We ask not your reasons,—'t were wasting our time,—

  Our life is a menace, our welfare a crime!

  "We have battles to fight, we have foes to subdue,—

  Time waits not for us, and we wait not for you!

  The mower mows on, though the adder may writhe

  And the copper-head coil round the blade of his scythe!

  "No sides in this quarrel," your statesmen may urge,

  Of school-house and wages with slave-pen and scourge!—

  No sides in the quarrel! proclaim it as well

  To the angels that fight with the legions of hell!

  They kneel in God's temple, the North and the South,

  With blood on each weapon and prayers in each mouth.

  Whose cry shall be answered? Ye Heavens, attend

  The lords of the lash as their voices ascend!

  "O Lord, we are shaped in the image of Thee,—

  Smite down the base millions that claim to be free,

  And lend Thy strong arm to the soft-handed race

  Who eat not their bread in the sweat of their face!"

  So pleads the proud planter. What echoes are these?

  The bay of his bloodhound is borne on the breeze,

  And, lost in the shriek of his victim's despair,

  His voice dies unheard.—Hear the Puritan's prayer!

  "O Lord, that didst smother mankind in Thy flood,

  The sun is as sackcloth, the moon is as blood,

  The stars fall to earth as untimely are cast

  The figs from the fig-tree that shakes in the blast!

  "All nations, all tribes in whose nostrils is breath,

  Stand gazing at Sin as she travails with Death!

  Lord, strangle the monster that struggles to birth,

  Or mock us no more with Thy 'Kingdom on Earth'!

  "If Ammon and Moab must reign in the land

  Thou gavest Thine Israel, fresh from Thy hand,

  Call Baäl and Ashtaroth out of their graves

  To be the new gods for the empire of slaves!"

  Whose God will ye serve, O ye rulers of men?

  Will ye build you new shrines in the slave-breeder's den?

  Or bow with the children of light, as they call

  On the Judge of the Earth and the Father of All?

  Choose wisely, choose quickly, for time moves apace,—

  Each day is an age in the life of our race!

  Lord, lead them in love, ere they hasten in fear

  From the fast-rising flood that shall girdle the sphere!