 | Zinzendorff, and other poems |  |
ON THE UNION OF LADIES OF GREAT BRITAIN, WITH THOSE OF AMERICA, IN PLANS OF BENEVOLENCE FOR AFRICA.
It is not least of all thy praise,
Fair Isle! so long renown'd in story,
Nor faintest 'mid the gather'd rays
That form thy coronet of glory,
That clasping thus a daughter's hand,
Her earnest guidance fondly heeding,
Thou turn'st thee toward that trampled land
'Neath many a poison'd arrow bleeding.
Fair Isle! so long renown'd in story,
Nor faintest 'mid the gather'd rays
That form thy coronet of glory,
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Her earnest guidance fondly heeding,
Thou turn'st thee toward that trampled land
'Neath many a poison'd arrow bleeding.
And wherefore turn'st thou?—To restore
The ancient boast of Nile's dark billow
Which cradled Science calmly bore
Like Moses on his reed-twin'd pillow?
To bid stern Cheop's mountain-height
Aspire, while vassal realms are weeping?
Or rouse again the buried might
Of Carthage, 'mid her ashes sleeping?
The ancient boast of Nile's dark billow
Which cradled Science calmly bore
Like Moses on his reed-twin'd pillow?
To bid stern Cheop's mountain-height
Aspire, while vassal realms are weeping?
Or rouse again the buried might
Of Carthage, 'mid her ashes sleeping?
Ah no.—To dry the burning tear,
To stifle murderous War's commotion,
To bid the slave-ship homeward steer
Unfreighted, o'er accusing Ocean,
To plant on lone Liberia's height
Undaunted Freedom's stainless streamer,
And bear to those who grope in night
Glad tidings of a blest Redeemer.
To stifle murderous War's commotion,
To bid the slave-ship homeward steer
Unfreighted, o'er accusing Ocean,
To plant on lone Liberia's height
Undaunted Freedom's stainless streamer,
And bear to those who grope in night
Glad tidings of a blest Redeemer.
Go on thy way, thou Queen of Isles!
Sahara's sands shall bloom before thee,
And Niger, 'mid his sinuous wiles
Waft clouds of breathing incense o'er thee,
And lo! this young and ardent West
Rehearsing grateful Afric's story,
Shall grave upon her filial breast,
Proud record of a Mother's glory.
Sahara's sands shall bloom before thee,
And Niger, 'mid his sinuous wiles
Waft clouds of breathing incense o'er thee,
And lo! this young and ardent West
Rehearsing grateful Afric's story,
Shall grave upon her filial breast,
Proud record of a Mother's glory.
| Zinzendorff, and other poems | |