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 | The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell |  |
There is no deed they should not do,
Could they thereby obtain the clue,
The motive power and the might
To set their outraged people right!
Then grasp the sword, discard the sheath,
And strike for Liberty or Death!
But what is death? 'Tis, after all,
The merest transit from this ball
To some bright state or gloomy sphere,
Remote, perhaps—perhaps quite near.
And what is life? Hath it a charm,
While fetters gall the neck and arm,
And from no species of contempt,
However base, to be exempt?
'Tis true a noble bard hath said
That to the regions of the dead
“What dreams may come, now give us pause.”
But who can so thwart Nature's laws
As to evade that dread unknown,
Through aid or effort of his own?
Could they thereby obtain the clue,
The motive power and the might
To set their outraged people right!
Then grasp the sword, discard the sheath,
And strike for Liberty or Death!
But what is death? 'Tis, after all,
The merest transit from this ball
To some bright state or gloomy sphere,
Remote, perhaps—perhaps quite near.
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While fetters gall the neck and arm,
And from no species of contempt,
However base, to be exempt?
'Tis true a noble bard hath said
That to the regions of the dead
“What dreams may come, now give us pause.”
But who can so thwart Nature's laws
As to evade that dread unknown,
Through aid or effort of his own?
| The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell | |