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Page 53
Nor shall be wanting many a scene
Where forms of more familiar mien,
Moving through lowlier pathways, shall present
The world of every day,
Such as it whirls along the busy quay,
Or sits beneath a rustic orchard wall,
Or floats about a fashion-freighted hall,
Or toils in attics dark the night away.
Love, hate, grief, joy, gain, glory, shame, shall meet,
As in the round wherein our lives are pent;
Chance for a while shall seem to reign,
While goodness roves like guilt about the street,
And guilt looks innocent.
But all at last shall vindicate the right.
Crime shall be meted with its proper pain,
Motes shall be taken from the doubter's sight,
And fortune's general justice rendered plain.
Of honest laughter there shall be no dearth,
Wit shall shake hands with humor grave and sweet,
Our wisdom shall not be too wise for mirth,
Nor kindred follies want a fool to greet.
As sometimes from the meanest spot of earth
A sudden beauty unexpected starts,
So you shall find some germs of hidden worth
Within the vilest hearts;
And now and then, when in those moods that turn
To the cold Muse that whips a fault with sneers,
You shall, perchance, be strangely touched to learn
You've struck a spring of tears!
But while we lead you thus from change to change,
Shall we not find within our ample range
Some type to elevate a people's heart--
Some haro who shall teach a hero's part
In this distracted time?
Rise from thy sleep of ages, noble Tell!
And, with the Alpine thunders of thy voice,
As if across the billows unenthralled,
Thy Alps unto the Alleghanies called,
Bid liberty rejoice!
Proclaim upon this trans-Atlantic strand
The deeds which, more than their own awful mien,
Make every crag of Switzerland sublime!
And say to those whose feeble souls would lean
Not on themselves, but on some outstretched hand,
That once a single mind sufficed to quell
The malice of a tyrant; let them know
That each may crowd in every well-aimed blow,
Not the poor strength alone of arm and brand,
But the whole spirit of a mighty land!
Bid liberty rejoice! Aye, though its day
Be far or near, these clouds shall yet be red
With the large promise of the coming ray.
Meanwhile, with that calm courage which can smile
Amid the terrors of the wildest fray,
Let us among the charms of art awhile
Fleet the deep gloom away;
Nor yet forget that on each hand and head
Rest the dear rights for which we fight and pray.
The Battle of Richmond.
By George Herbert Sass, Charleston, S.C.
"For they gat not the land in possession by their own sword; neither was
it their own arm that helped them; but Thy right hand, and Thine arm, and
the light of Thy countenance, because Thou hadst a favor unto them."
--Psalm, xliv. 3, 4.
I.
Now blessed be the Lord of Hosts through all our Southern land,
And blessed be His holy name, in whose great might we stand;
For He who loves the voice of prayer hath heard His people's cry,
And with His own almighty arm hath won the victory!
Oh, tell it out through hearth and home, from blue Potomac's wave
To those far waters of the West which hide De Soto's grave.
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