University of Virginia Library


75

DUNCAN M'INTOSH.

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To offer a notice of this departed philanthropist for the Christian Disciple, is to concur, it is believed, with the objects of that publication. In a mercantile community it can never be unreasonable to record an exception to the sordid spirit of accumulation; and in a Christian country, it must always be salutary to contemplate the actual intrepidity and elevation of the Christian character, in opposition to what has been unfortunately asserted of its abjectness and pusillanimity.

We may not be as generally apprised in this, as in our more southern capitals, that Mr. M'Intosh was at St. Domingo during the sanguinary revolution of 1793, which threatened the total extermination of the French inhabitants; and although (as an American citizen) he might have departed in safety, and taken with him the whole of his large property, he preferred remaining and sacrificing that property, together with the interesting hopes connected with its acquirement, to the preservation of the proscribed. At every hazard he continued during eight months to freight vessels at his own expense, laden with these destitute fugitives, to the number of nine hundred men and fifteen hundred women and children. At his subsequent arrival in Philadelphia, a gold medal, a public dinner, and every demonstration of enthusiastic respect, were rendered him by the gratitude of the exiles he had saved; but for services like his, what are all sublunary rewards? Remuneratio ejus cum altissimo.

[1821.]
Hail! son of ancient Caledon!
Thy race is sped, thy crown is won;
The voice Supreme thy worth must tell;
Ours only utters “Hail! Farewell!”

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Oft has offended Virtue's frown
Withered the chaplets of renown;
Struck by the lightning of her eye,
In their first blossoming they die;
And incense, fired to rise for years,
Is quenched in her indignant tears.
Not to the just such fate is given;
Their laurel is the growth of heaven;
Seed, sown amid the storms of time,
Expands in that unclouded clime;
The Virtues, guardian angels there,
Make the immortal plant their care;
And heavenly hands its leaves suffuse
With moisture from celestial dews.
It feels the Sun's enliv'ning ray
Long ere he gilds our distant day,
And winds from primal Eden's vales,
Breathe over it their balmiest gales.
And never tree of glory there,
Has towered more fragrant, full or fair,
Than that which waves its holy flower
O'er Duncan's high immortal bower.
Thou hero of an holier flame
Than boasts the ranks of martial fame!
Though honored still that steel must be,
Which strikes for lawful liberty,

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(Such as thy Wallace wont to wield,
Defender of his native field;)
Yet happier is that course maintained,
Whose trophies are with tears unstained;
And worthier benisons should fall
On him, above each narrower call,
Who risked his life, his wealth, his all,
With charity that knew no bound,
For strangers, on a foreign ground;
And felt the outcast alien blend
The claims of clansman, brother, friend!
What time against their ancient foes
Dark Afric's race like demons rose,
Past wrongs with present strength conspiring,
And memory all their passions firing,
Till mad, and madd'ning all the throng,
Freedom a Fury raved along,
With garments rolled in blood; with hand
Grasping the desolating brand;
What voice but thine alone could dare
Breathe the forbidden word—to spare?
From glens and caves the fugitive
Could look to thee alone, and live;
Whose shelt'ring arms a rampart spread,
Stood 'twixt the living and the dead,

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With angel eloquence to stay
The carnage of that direful day!
And when the shield that saved before,
From power incensed could save no more,
Thou gav'st the meed of years of toil,
To waft them to a kindlier soil.
Vain were the dungeon's terrors, vain
The threatened scaffold's penal stain;
Ah! vain those fonder thoughts, that pressed
For mastery in thy manly breast,
And bade thee pause, nor forfeit now
The nuptial torch, the mutual vow,
The social hall, the festal dome,
The comforts of the hearth and home.
O happy in the sacrifice!
For what the suffering to the prize?
What loss of all that earth holds dear,
In such a high and proud career?
Let faith, prophetic faith, portray
The glories of thy rising day,
When grateful thousands shall proclaim
Their kind deliverer's honored name;
Sires hail him, who from direst rage
Rescued the filial props of age;

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And mothers bless the arm that stayed
From infant hearts the ruthless blade;
While from before the mystic throne
Erst to the seer of Patmos shown,
Sublimest welcome shall accord
Thy great exampler and thy lord,
Who onward to his own abode
Through sacrifice and suffering trode;
Endured each earthly, heavenly loss;
Renounced a kingdom for a cross;
Cheerful, himself for others gave,
And lived to bless, and died to save!
 

Vide Paley and Tenyns.

Mr. M. was twice imprisoned, and narrowly escaped death, for his efforts in this cause.