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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 | A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840 |  |
Thou spectre hag! who, in the holy name
Of truth and dear Religion, hast with flame
And madness fired the world! Dread Sorceress,
Who turnest Eden to a wilderness!
Thou who dost choke the fountains with the blood
Of saints and sages—blackening Truth and Good
With the eclipse of Hell!—that strikest down
With thy envenomed breath and withering frown
All white-winged aspirations, and uprearest
Instead of them dire dreams which thou e'en fearest;
O dread unhallowed Spirit! would that we,
In this green land, might be unscathed by thee!
Would that the blighting shadow of thy wings
Might ne'er have touched the soil where Freedom springs.
Alas—thy fiery cup was poured o'er all,
And the wide world hath been thy powerless thrall!
Of truth and dear Religion, hast with flame
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Who turnest Eden to a wilderness!
Thou who dost choke the fountains with the blood
Of saints and sages—blackening Truth and Good
With the eclipse of Hell!—that strikest down
With thy envenomed breath and withering frown
All white-winged aspirations, and uprearest
Instead of them dire dreams which thou e'en fearest;
O dread unhallowed Spirit! would that we,
In this green land, might be unscathed by thee!
Would that the blighting shadow of thy wings
Might ne'er have touched the soil where Freedom springs.
Alas—thy fiery cup was poured o'er all,
And the wide world hath been thy powerless thrall!
| A poem delivered in the first congregational church in the town of Quincy, May 25, 1840 | |