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Page 166
II.
Ye slaughter,--do ye triumph? Ask your chains,
Ye Sodom-hearted butchers!--turn your eyes,
Where reeks yon bloody scaffold; and the pains,
Ungroaned, of a true martyr, ere he dies,
Attest the damned folly of your crime,
Now at its carnival! His spirit flies,
Unscathed by all your fires, through every clime,
Into the world's wide bosom. Thousands rise,
Prompt at its call, and principled to strike
The tyrants and the tyrannies alike!--
Voices, that doom ye, speak in all your deeds,
And cry to heaven, arm earth, and kindle hell!
A host of freemen, where one martyr bleeds,
Spring from his place of doom, and make his knell
The toscin, to arouse a myriad race,
T'avenge Humanity's wrong, and wipe off man's disgrace!
III.
We mourn not for our martyrs!--for they perish,
As the good perish, for a deathless faith:
Their glorious memories men will fondly cherish,
In terms and signs that shall ennoble death!
Their blood becomes a principle, to guide,
Onward, forever onward, in proud flow,
Restless, resistless, as the ocean tide,
The Spirit heaven yields freedom here below!
How should we mourn the martyrs, who arise,
Even from the stake and scaffold, to the skies;--
And take their thrones, as slars; and o'er the night,
Shed a new glory; and to other souls,
Shine out with blessed guidance, and true light,
Which leads successive races to their goals!
Charleston Mercury.
"Libera Nos, O Domine!"
By James Barron Hope.
What! ye hold yourselves as freemen?
Tyrants love just such as ye!
Go! abate your lofty manner!
Write upon the State's old banner,
"_A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!_"
Sink before the federal altar,
Each one low, on bended knee,
Pray, with lips that sob and falter,
This prayer from the coward's psalter,--
"_A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!_"
But ye hold that quick repentance
In the Northern mind will be;
This repentance comes no sooner
Than the robbers did, at Luna!
"_A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!_"
He repented _him_:--the Bishop
Gave him absolution free;
Poured upon him sacred chrism
In the pomp of his baptism.
_"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"_
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