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Page 22
The moral of a party--if it be
That healthy States need parties, lies in this,
That we consider well what race it is,
And what the germ that first has made it free.
That germ must constitute the living tie
That binds its generations to the end,
Change measures if it need, or policy,
But neither break the principle, nor bend.
Each race hath its own nature--fixed, defined,
By Heaven, and if its principle be won,
Kept changeless as the progress of the sun,
It mocks at storm and rage, at sea and wind,
And grows to consummation, as the tree,
Matured, that ever grew in culture free.
Our Faith in '61.
By A. J. Requier.
"That governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers
from the consent of the governed: that whenever any form of government
becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter
or abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on
such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as TO THEM SHALL
SEEM most likely to effect their safety and happiness."--[Declaration of
Independence, July 4, '76.]
Not yet one hundred years have flown
Since on this very spot,
The subjects of a sovereign throne--
Liege-master of their lot--
This high degree sped o'er the sea,
From council-board and tent,
"No earthly power can rule the free
But by their own consent!"
For this, they fought as Saxons fight,
On bloody fields and long--
Themselves the champions of the right,
And judges of the wrong;
For this their stainless knighthood wore
The branded rebel's name,
Until the starry cross they bore
Set all the skies aflame!
And States co-equal and distinct
Outshone the western sun,
By one great charter interlinked--
Not blended into one;
Whose graven key that high decree
The grand inscription lent,
"No earthly power can rule the free
But by their own consent!"
Oh! sordid age! Oh! ruthless rage!
Oh! sacrilegious wrong!
A deed to blast the record page,
And snap the strings of song;
In that great charter's name, a band
By grovelling greed enticed,
Whose warrant is the grasping hand
Of creeds without a Christ--
States that have trampled every pledge
Its crystal code contains,
Now give their swords a keener edge
To harness it with chains--
To make a bond of brotherhood
The sanction and the seal,
By which to arm a rabble brood
With fratricidal steel.
Who, conscious that their cause is black,
In puling prose and rhyme,
Talk hatefully of love, and tack
Hypocrisy to crime;
Who smile and smite, engross the gorge
Or impotently frown;
And call us "rebels" with King George,
As if they wore his crown!
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