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A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840

the two hundredth anniversary of the incorporation of the town

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Then Persecution reigns—then frowns and sneers,
All bitter sarcasms, and all merry jeers,
The withering reproach—the slander vile—
The hot anathema—the icy smile—
The jail, the axe, the rack, the poison bowl,
Death for the body—curses for the soul;
These are thy playthings—these thy livery,
Thy noble badge—spirit of Bigotry!