Town and Country; Or, Life at Home and Abroad Part 30

Raising his hand appealing to the sun, He swears, by all he hath or now could crave, That when his life is closed, his life-race run, A white man ne'er shall stand above his grave.

Shall he, the last of a once n.o.ble race,

Consign himself to such a dire disgrace?

Never! let rock to rock the word resound; Never! bear witness all ye G.o.ds to-day; Never! ye streams and rivers, as ye bound, Write "Never" on your waves, and bear away;

Tell to the world that, hunted, wronged, abused,

With such reproach he ne'er shall be accused, The red man's brethren, tell him where are they; The red man's homes and altars, what their fate?

Shall he who stands the last, the last to-day, Forget with his last breath to whisper hate?

Hate, deep and fathomless, and boundless too,

Such as to fiendish cruelty is due.

He cannot bear the white man's presence now, Or bear to hear his name or see his works; He thinks that wrong is stamped upon his brow, That in his good deeds selfish purpose lurks.

Has he a cause for this?-review the past,

And see those acts which prompt hate to the last.

Sons of the Pilgrims, who to-day do boast Of Freedom's favors, ye whose wealth doth lie From the Atlantic to the Pacific coast!

Let not the race you have supplanted die;

Perish like forest-leaves from off their lands,

Without a just requital at your hands.

O, give them homes which they can call their own, Let Knowledge light its torch and lead the way; And meek Religion, from the eternal throne, Be there to usher in a better day;

Then shall the past be blotted from life's scroll,

And all the good ye may do crown the whole.

SUNLIGHT ON THE SOUL.

O, THAT some spirit form would come, From the fair realms of heaven above, And take my outstretched hand in hers, To bathe me in angelic love!

O that these longing, peering eyes, Might pierce the shadowy curtain's fold, And see in radiant robes arrayed, The friends whose memory I do hold Close, close within my soul's deep cell!

O, that were well! O, that were well!

I've often thought, at midnight's hour, That round my couch I could discern A shadowy being, from whose eye I could not, ah! I would not turn.

It seemed so sisterly to me, So radiant with looks of love, That ever since I've strove to be More like the angel hosts above.

The hopes, the joys were like a spell, And it was well! Yes, it was well!

And every hour of day and night I feel an influence o'er me steal, So soothing, pure, so holy, bright, I would each human heart could feel A fraction of the mighty tide Of living joy it sends along.

Then why should I complain, and ask Why none of heaven's angelic throng Come to this earth with me to dwell, For all is well,--all, all is well!

A SONG FROM THE ABSENT.

TO THE LOVED ONE AT HOME.

AWAY from home, how slow the hours Pa.s.s wearily along!

I feel alone, though many forms Around my pathway throng.

There's none that look on me in love, Wherever I do roam; I'm longing for thy gentle smile, My dearest one, at home.

I walk around; strange things I see, Much that is fair to view; Man's art and Nature's handiwork, And all to me is new.

But, ah! I feel my joy were more, If, while 'mid these I roam, It could be shared with thee I love, My dearest one, at home.

Blow, blow ye winds, and bear me on My long and arduous way!

Move on, slow hours, more swiftly move, And bring to life the day When, journey done, and absence o'er, No more I distant roam; When I again shall be with thee, My dearest one, at home.

TWILIGHT FOREST HYMN.

THE HOUR OF PARTING.

FRIENDS who here have met to-day, Let us sing our parting lay, Ere we hence do pa.s.s away, Ere the sun doth set.

As we've trod this gra.s.sy earth, Friendships new have had their birth, And this day of festive mirth We shall ne'er forget.

Rock, and hill, and shading tree, Streamlet dancing to the sea, Gladly though we'd stay with thee, We must leave you all; On the tree and on the flower Comes the evening's twilight hour, And upon each forest bower Evening's shadows fall.

Part we now, but through our life, Hush of peace or jar of strife, Memory will still be rife With glad thoughts of thee; Wheresoe'er our feet may stray, Memory will retain this day; Fare thee well-we haste away, Farewell rock and tree!

THE SUMMER SHOWER.