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Charleston Mercury.

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Thus, the grand fabric of a thousand years--

Rear'd with such art and wisdom--by a race

Of giant sires, in virtue all compact,

Self-sacrificing; having grand ideals

Of public strength, and peoples capable

Of great conceptions for the common good,

And of enduring liberties, kept strong

Through purity;--tumbles and falls apart,

Lacking cement in virtue; and assail'd

Within, without, by greed of avarice,

And vain ambition for supremacy.

So fell the old Republics--Gentile and Jew,

Roman and Greek--such evermore the record;

Mix'd glory and shame, still lapsing into greed,

From conquest and from triumph, into fall!

The glory that we see exchanged for guilt

Might yet be glory. There were pride enough,

And emulous ambition to achieve,--

Both generous powers, when coupled with endowment,

To do the work of States--and there were courage

And sense of public need, and public welfare,--

And duty--in a brave but scattered few,

Throughout the States--had these been credited

To combat 'gainst the popular appetites.

But these were scorn'd and set aside for naught,

As lacking favor with the popular lusts!

They found reward in exile or in death!

And he alone who could debase his spirit,

And file his mind down to the basest nature

Grew capp'd with rule!--

So, with the lapse

From virtue, the great nation forfeits all

The pride with the security--the liberty,

With that prime modesty which keeps the heart

Upright, in meek subjection, to the doubts

That wait upon Humanity, and teach

Humility, as best check and guaranty,

Against the wolfish greed of appetite!

Worst of all signs, assuring coming doom,

When peoples loathe to listen to the praise

Of their great men; and, jealous of just claims,

Eagerly set upon them to revile,

And banish from their councils! Worse than all

When the great man, succumbing to the mass,

Yields up his mind as a low instrument

To vulgar fingers, to be played upon:--

Yields to the vulgar lure, the cunning bribe

Of place or profit, and makes sale of States

To Party!

Thus and then are States subdued--

'Till one vast central tyranny upstarts,

With front of glittering brass, but legs of clay;

Insolent, reckless of account as right,--

While lust grows license, and tears off the robes

From justice; and makes right a thing of mock;

And puts a foolscap on the head of law,

And plucks the baton of authority

From his right hand, and breaks it o'er his head.

So rages still the irresponsible power,

Using the madden'd populace as hounds,

To hunt down freedom where she seeks retreat.

The ancient history becomes the new--

The ages move in circles, and the snake

Ends ever with his tail in his own mouth.

Thus still in all the past!--and man the same

In all the ages--a poor thing of passion,

Hot greed, and miserable vanity,

And all infirmities of lust and error,

Makes of himself the wretched instrument

To murder his own hope.

So empires fall,--

Past, present, and to come!--

There is no hope

For nations or peoples, once they lapse from virtue

And fail in modest sense of what they are--

Creatures of weakness, whose security

Lies in meek resting on the law of God,

And in that wise humility which pleads

Ever for his guardian watch and Government,

Though men may bear the open signs of rule.

Humility is safety! could men learn

The law, "ne sutor ultra crepidam," And the sagacious cobbler, at his last, Content himself with paring leather down To heel and instep, nicely fitting parts, In proper adaptation, to the foot, We might have safety.

Rightly to conceive

What's right, and limit the o'erreaching will

To this one measure only, is the whole

Of that grand rule, and wise necessity,

Which only gives us safety.

Where a State,

Or blended States, or peoples, pass the bounds

Set for their progress, they must topple and fall

Into that gulf of ruin which has swallowed

All ancient Empires, States, Republics; all

Perishing, in like manner, from the selfsame cause!

The terrible conjunction of the event,

Close with the provocation, stands apart,

A social beacon in all histories;

And yet we take no heed, but still rush on,

Under mixed sway of greed and vanity,

And like the silly boy with his card-castle,

Precipitate to ruin as we build.

War Poetry of the South

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