And the sky was bright as ever, But vain were bird and blossom, -STANZAS. ["THE despotism which our fathers could not bear in their native country is expiring, and the sword of justice in her reformed hands has applied its exterminating edge to slavery. Shall the United States-the free United States, which could not bear the bonds of a king, cradle the bondage which a king is abolishing? Shall a Republic be less free than a Monarchy? Shall we, in the vigor and buoyancy of our manhood, be less energetic in righteousness than a kingdom in its age?"-Dr. Follen's Address. "Genius of America! - Spirit of our free institutions-where art thou?How art thou fallen, O Lucifer! son of the morning-how art thou fallen from Heaven! Hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming!The kings of the earth cry out to thee, Aha! Aha!—ART THOU BECOME LIKE UNTO US?"-Speech of Samuel J. May.] OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves in a land of light and law! Slaves crouching on the very plains Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war! A groan from Eutaw's haunted wood — From Moultrie's wall and Jasper's well! By storied hill and hallowed grot, And hurrying shout of Marion's men! SLAVES are breathing in that air, Which old De Kalb and Sumter drank! What, ho! our countrymen in chains! The whip on WOMAN'S shrinking flesh! Our soil yet reddening with the stains, Caught from her scourging, warm and fresh! What! mothers from their children riven ! What! God's own image bought and sold! AMERICANS to market driven, And bartered as the brute for gold! Speak! shall their agony of prayer Say, shall these writhing slaves of Wrong, What shall we send, with lavish breath, Our sympathies across the wave, Where Manhood, on the field of death, Strikes for his freedom, or a grave? Shall prayers go up, and hymns be sung For Greece, the Moslem fetter spurning, And millions hail with pen and tongue Our light on all her altars burning? Shall Belgium feel, and gallant France, By Vendome's pile and Schoenbrun's wall, The impulse of our cheering call? Oh, say, shall Prussia's banner be Relax the iron hand of pride, And bid his bondmen cast the chain Shall every flap of England's flag Proclaim that all around are free, From "farthest Ind" to each blue crag That beetles o'er the Western Sea? And shall we scoff at Europe's kings, When Freedom's fire is dim with us, And round our country's altar clings The damning shade of Slavery's curse? Go-let us ask of Constantine To loose his grasp on Poland's throat; "Go, loose your fettered slaves at home, Just God and shall we calmly rest, The Christian's scorn the heathen's mirth Content to live the lingering jest And by-word of a, mocking Earth? Shall our own glorious land retain That curse which Europe scorns to bear? Shall our own brethren drag the chain Which not even Russia's menials wear? Up, then, in Freedom's manly part, Scatter the living coals of Truth! Oh rouse ye, ere the storm comes forth When hail and fire above it ran. Up now for Freedom! - not in strife -- The glory and the guilt of war: Down let the shrine of Moloch sink, Nor longer let its idol drink His daily cup of human blood: But rear another altar there, To Truth and Love and Mercy given, And Freedom's gift, and Freedom's prayer, Shall call an answer down from Heaven! THE YANKEE GIRL. SHE sings by her wheel, at that low cottage-door, How brilliant and mirthful the light of her eye, O'er a brow and a bosom as lovely as they ! Who comes in his pride to that low cottage-door The haughty and rich to the humble and poor ? 'Tis the great Southern planter - the master who waves His whip of dominion o'er hundreds of slaves. "Nay, Ellen. for shame! Let those Yankee fools spin, Who would pass for our slaves with a change of their skin; Let them toil as they will at the loom or the wheel, Too stupid for shame, and too vulgar to feel! But thou art too lovely and precious a gem To be bound to their burdens and sullied by them Oh, come where no winter thy footsteps can wrong, |