Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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Six American Ballads.
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
444
Six American Ballads.
1849.
I.— To Brother Jonathan.
Ho! Brother, I'm a Britisher,
A chip of heart of oak
That wouldn't warp or swerve or stir
From what I thought or spoke,—
And you—a blunt and honest man,
Straightforward, kind, and true,
I tell you, Brother Jonathan,
That you're a Briton too.
A chip of heart of oak
That wouldn't warp or swerve or stir
From what I thought or spoke,—
And you—a blunt and honest man,
Straightforward, kind, and true,
I tell you, Brother Jonathan,
That you're a Briton too.
I know your heart, an open heart,
I read your mind and will,
A greyhound ever on the start
To run for honour still;
And shrewd to scheme a likely plan,
And stout to see it done,
I tell you, Brother Jonathan,
That you and I are one!
I read your mind and will,
A greyhound ever on the start
To run for honour still;
And shrewd to scheme a likely plan,
And stout to see it done,
I tell you, Brother Jonathan,
That you and I are one!
There may be jealousies and strife,
For men have selfish ends,
But petty quarrels ginger life,
And help to season friends;
And pundits who, with solemn scan,
Judge humans most aright,
Decide it, testy Jonathan,
That brothers always fight.
For men have selfish ends,
But petty quarrels ginger life,
And help to season friends;
445
Judge humans most aright,
Decide it, testy Jonathan,
That brothers always fight.
Two fledgling sparrows in one nest
Will chirp about a worm,
Then how should eaglets meekly rest,
The children of the storm?
No! while their rustled pinions fan
The eyrie's dizzy side,
Like you and me, my Jonathan,
It's all for Love and Pride!
Will chirp about a worm,
Then how should eaglets meekly rest,
The children of the storm?
No! while their rustled pinions fan
The eyrie's dizzy side,
Like you and me, my Jonathan,
It's all for Love and Pride!
“God save the Queen” delights you still,
And “British Grenadiers,”
The good old strains your heartstrings thrill,
And catch you by both ears;
And we,—O hate us if you can,
For we are proud of you,
We like you, Brother Jonathan,
And “Yankee Doodle” too!
And “British Grenadiers,”
The good old strains your heartstrings thrill,
And catch you by both ears;
And we,—O hate us if you can,
For we are proud of you,
We like you, Brother Jonathan,
And “Yankee Doodle” too!
There's nothing foreign in your face,
Nor strange upon your tongue,
You come not of another race
From baser lineage sprung;
No, brother! though away you ran,
As truant boys will do,
Still true it is, young Jonathan,
My fathers father'd you.
Nor strange upon your tongue,
You come not of another race
From baser lineage sprung;
No, brother! though away you ran,
As truant boys will do,
Still true it is, young Jonathan,
My fathers father'd you.
446
Time was,—it wasn't long ago,
Your grandsire went with mine
To battle traitors, blow for blow,
For England's royal line;
Or tripp'd to court to kiss Queen Anne,
Or worship mighty Bess,
And you and I, good Jonathan,
Went with them then, I guess.
Your grandsire went with mine
To battle traitors, blow for blow,
For England's royal line;
Or tripp'd to court to kiss Queen Anne,
Or worship mighty Bess,
And you and I, good Jonathan,
Went with them then, I guess.
Together both,—'twas long ago,
Among the Roses fought,
Or charging fierce the Paynim foe
Did all knight-errants ought:
As Cavalier or Puritan
Together pray'd or swore,
For John's own Brother Jonathan
Was only John of yore!
Among the Roses fought,
Or charging fierce the Paynim foe
Did all knight-errants ought:
As Cavalier or Puritan
Together pray'd or swore,
For John's own Brother Jonathan
Was only John of yore!
There lived a man, a man of men,
A King on fancy's throne,
We ne'er shall see his like again,
The globe is all his own;
And, if we claim him of our clan,
He half belongs to you,
For Shakspeare, happy Jonathan,
Is yours and Britain's too!
A King on fancy's throne,
We ne'er shall see his like again,
The globe is all his own;
And, if we claim him of our clan,
He half belongs to you,
For Shakspeare, happy Jonathan,
Is yours and Britain's too!
There was another glorious name,
A poet for all time,
Who gain'd the double-first of fame,
The beautiful-sublime;
And let us hide him as we can,
More miserly than pelf,
Our Yankee brother Jonathan
Cries halves in Milton's self!
A poet for all time,
Who gain'd the double-first of fame,
The beautiful-sublime;
447
More miserly than pelf,
Our Yankee brother Jonathan
Cries halves in Milton's self!
Well, well: and every praise of old,
That makes us famous still,
You would be just, and may be bold
To share it if you will,—
Since England's glory first began,
Till—just the other day,
The half is yours! but, Jonathan,
Why did you run away?
That makes us famous still,
You would be just, and may be bold
To share it if you will,—
Since England's glory first began,
Till—just the other day,
The half is yours! but, Jonathan,
Why did you run away?
O Brother, could we both be one
In nation and in name,
How gladly would the very sun
Lie basking in our fame!
In either world to lead the van
And go ahead for good,
While earth to John and Jonathan
Yields tribute gratitude!
In nation and in name,
How gladly would the very sun
Lie basking in our fame!
In either world to lead the van
And go ahead for good,
While earth to John and Jonathan
Yields tribute gratitude!
Add but your stripes and golden stars
To brave St. George's cross,
And never dream of mutual wars
Two dunces' mutual loss;
Let us two bless where others ban,
And love when others hate,
And so, my cordial Jonathan,
We'll fit, I calculate.
To brave St. George's cross,
And never dream of mutual wars
Two dunces' mutual loss;
Let us two bless where others ban,
And love when others hate,
And so, my cordial Jonathan,
We'll fit, I calculate.
448
What more? I touch not holier strings
A loftier strain to win,
Nor glance at prophets, priests, and kings,
Or heavenly kith or kin;
As friend with friend, and man with man,
O let our hearts be thus,
As David's love to Jonathan,
Be Jonathan's to us!
A loftier strain to win,
Nor glance at prophets, priests, and kings,
Or heavenly kith or kin;
As friend with friend, and man with man,
O let our hearts be thus,
As David's love to Jonathan,
Be Jonathan's to us!
II.— “Ye Thirty noble Nations.”
Ye Thirty noble Nations
Confederate in One!
That keep your starry stations
Around the Western Sun,—
I have a glorious mission,
And must obey the call,—
A claim! and a petition!
To set before you All.
Confederate in One!
That keep your starry stations
Around the Western Sun,—
I have a glorious mission,
And must obey the call,—
A claim! and a petition!
To set before you All.
Away with party blindness,
Away with petty spite!
My Claim is one of Kindness,
My Prayer is one of Right;
And while in grace ye listen,—
For tenderness, I know
Your eyes shall dim and glisten,
Your hearts shall thrill and glow.
Away with petty spite!
My Claim is one of Kindness,
My Prayer is one of Right;
And while in grace ye listen,—
For tenderness, I know
Your eyes shall dim and glisten,
Your hearts shall thrill and glow.
449
For, on those hearts is written
The spirit of my song,—
I claim your love for Britain,
In spite of every wrong!
I claim it for—your mother,
Your sister, and your spouse,
Your father, friend, and brother,
The “Hector” of your vows!
The spirit of my song,—
I claim your love for Britain,
In spite of every wrong!
I claim it for—your mother,
Your sister, and your spouse,
Your father, friend, and brother,
The “Hector” of your vows!
In spite of all the evils
That statesmen ever brew'd,
Or busy printers'-devils,
Or Celtic gratitude,—
In spite of politicians
And diplomatic fuss,
Your feelings and traditions
Are cordially with us!
That statesmen ever brew'd,
Or busy printers'-devils,
Or Celtic gratitude,—
In spite of politicians
And diplomatic fuss,
Your feelings and traditions
Are cordially with us!
O yes! your recollections
Look back with streaming eye
To pour those old affections
On scenes and days gone by;
Your Eagle well remembers
His dear old island-nest,
And sorrow stirs the embers
Of love within his breast!
Look back with streaming eye
To pour those old affections
On scenes and days gone by;
Your Eagle well remembers
His dear old island-nest,
And sorrow stirs the embers
Of love within his breast!
Ah! need I tell of places
You dream and dwell on still?
Those old familiar faces
Of English vale and hill,—
The sites you think of, sobbing,
And seek as pilgrims seek,
With brows and bosoms throbbing
And tears upon your cheek!
You dream and dwell on still?
Those old familiar faces
Of English vale and hill,—
450
And seek as pilgrims seek,
With brows and bosoms throbbing
And tears upon your cheek!
Or should I touch on glories
That date in ages gone,
Those dear historic stories
When England's fame was won,—
The tales your children thronging
So gladly hear you tell,
And note their father's longing,
And love that longing well!
That date in ages gone,
Those dear historic stories
When England's fame was won,—
The tales your children thronging
So gladly hear you tell,
And note their father's longing,
And love that longing well!
For language, follies, fashions,
Religion, honour, shame,
And human loves and passions,
Oh! we are just the same;
You, you are England, growing
To Continental state,
And we Columbia, glowing
With all that makes you great!
Religion, honour, shame,
And human loves and passions,
Oh! we are just the same;
You, you are England, growing
To Continental state,
And we Columbia, glowing
With all that makes you great!
Yes, Anglo-Saxon brother,
I see your heart is right,—
And we will warm each other
With all our loves alight;
In feeling and in reason
My Claim is stow'd away,—
And kissing is in season
For ever and a day!—
I see your heart is right,—
And we will warm each other
With all our loves alight;
In feeling and in reason
My Claim is stow'd away,—
And kissing is in season
For ever and a day!—
451
And now in frank contrition,
O brother mine, give heed,—
And hear the just Petition
My feeble tongue would plead;
I plead across the waters,
So deeply crimson-stain'd,
For Afric's sons and daughters
Whom freemen hold enchain'd!
O brother mine, give heed,—
And hear the just Petition
My feeble tongue would plead;
I plead across the waters,
So deeply crimson-stain'd,
For Afric's sons and daughters
Whom freemen hold enchain'd!
I taunt you not unkindly
With ills you didn't make,
I would not wish you blindly
In haste the bond to break;
But tenderly and truly
To file away the chain,
And render justice duly
To Man's Estate again!
With ills you didn't make,
I would not wish you blindly
In haste the bond to break;
But tenderly and truly
To file away the chain,
And render justice duly
To Man's Estate again!
O judge ye how degrading,—
A Christian bought and sold!
And human monsters trading
In human flesh for gold!
When ruthlessly they plunder
Poor Afric's homes defiled,
And all to sell—asunder!
The mother, and her child.
A Christian bought and sold!
And human monsters trading
In human flesh for gold!
When ruthlessly they plunder
Poor Afric's homes defiled,
And all to sell—asunder!
The mother, and her child.
O free and fearless Nation,
Wipe out this damning spot,
Earth's worst abomination,
And nature's blackest blot;
Begin and speed the rather
To help with hand and eye
The children of your Father
Beneath His tropic sky.
Wipe out this damning spot,
Earth's worst abomination,
And nature's blackest blot;
452
To help with hand and eye
The children of your Father
Beneath His tropic sky.
He—He who form'd and frees us
And makes us white within,
Who knows how Holy Jesus
May love that tinted skin!
For none can tell how darkly
The sun of Jewry shed
Its burning shadows starkly
On Jesu's homeless head!
And makes us white within,
Who knows how Holy Jesus
May love that tinted skin!
For none can tell how darkly
The sun of Jewry shed
Its burning shadows starkly
On Jesu's homeless head!
And lo! One great salvation
Hath burst upon the World,—
And God's Illumination
Like noonday shines unfurl'd;
Shall bonds or colour pale it?
Candace's Eunuch—say!—
The first, though black, to hail it,
And love the Gospel Day!
Hath burst upon the World,—
And God's Illumination
Like noonday shines unfurl'd;
Shall bonds or colour pale it?
Candace's Eunuch—say!—
The first, though black, to hail it,
And love the Gospel Day!
Columbia, well I note it,
That half your sons are strong
Against this ill, and vote it
A folly and a wrong;
Yet, lurks there not a loathing,
Aye, with your best inclined,
Against that sable clothing
Of Man's own heart and mind?
That half your sons are strong
Against this ill, and vote it
A folly and a wrong;
Yet, lurks there not a loathing,
Aye, with your best inclined,
Against that sable clothing
Of Man's own heart and mind?
453
I charge you by your power,
Your freedom and your fame,
To speed the blessed hour
That wipes away this Shame:
By all life's hopes and wishes
And fears beyond the grave,
Renounce these blood-bought riches,
And frankly free the slave!
Your freedom and your fame,
To speed the blessed hour
That wipes away this Shame:
By all life's hopes and wishes
And fears beyond the grave,
Renounce these blood-bought riches,
And frankly free the slave!
So let whatever threaten,
While God is on our side,
Columbia and Britain
The world shall well divide,—
Divide?—No! in one tether
Of Anglo-Saxon might
We'll hold the world together
In peace and love and right!
While God is on our side,
Columbia and Britain
The world shall well divide,—
Divide?—No! in one tether
Of Anglo-Saxon might
We'll hold the world together
In peace and love and right!
III.— John's Rejoinder.
Buzzah for guessing—brother mine!
I guess'd we loved each other;
Huzzah! I scarce can drop a line
Without the tag of—brother;
Huzzah! for all the kind Replies
Wherewith you bless and love me,—
They thrill my heart and fill my eyes
With thanks to God above me!
I guess'd we loved each other;
Huzzah! I scarce can drop a line
Without the tag of—brother;
Huzzah! for all the kind Replies
Wherewith you bless and love me,—
They thrill my heart and fill my eyes
With thanks to God above me!
454
From East to West, from North to South,
Through all your boundless regions,
The staves that tumble from my mouth
Have stirr'd your thousand legions;
Have made the hearts of women ache,
The minds of men to flutter,
Because you felt before I spake
The words that I would utter!
Through all your boundless regions,
The staves that tumble from my mouth
Have stirr'd your thousand legions;
Have made the hearts of women ache,
The minds of men to flutter,
Because you felt before I spake
The words that I would utter!
You felt that Britain loved you still,
Your foolish fond old mother,—
And gave her,—not against your will,—
The love you cannot smother!
You felt that you, though new, are Old
As England's ancient glories,—
You throbb'd to feel your triumphs told
In all her strains and stories!
Your foolish fond old mother,—
And gave her,—not against your will,—
The love you cannot smother!
You felt that you, though new, are Old
As England's ancient glories,—
You throbb'd to feel your triumphs told
In all her strains and stories!
O yes! dear brethren o'er the sea,
Your verses, loves, and letters
Have been a mix'd account with me
Where both of us are debtors;
I owe you gratitude and praise
For gratitude and praises,
And when in thanks your heart you raise
His thanks my heart upraises!
Your verses, loves, and letters
Have been a mix'd account with me
Where both of us are debtors;
I owe you gratitude and praise
For gratitude and praises,
And when in thanks your heart you raise
His thanks my heart upraises!
Not that, good Jonathan, we try
The game of mutual scratching,—
You, Yankee true, and John Bull I
Breed fowls of purer hatching;
We tell the truth; not less nor more;
So be it kindly spoken;
For thus, no heart was e'er made sore,
No head was ever broken.
The game of mutual scratching,—
You, Yankee true, and John Bull I
Breed fowls of purer hatching;
455
So be it kindly spoken;
For thus, no heart was e'er made sore,
No head was ever broken.
When Pegasus I sit astride
I fill my saddle squarely,—
No fence so high, no ditch so wide,
But I will take it fairly;
I hate the nambypamby plan
Of lounging upon pillions,—
What I would say to one plain man
I'll sing to fifty millions!
I fill my saddle squarely,—
No fence so high, no ditch so wide,
But I will take it fairly;
I hate the nambypamby plan
Of lounging upon pillions,—
What I would say to one plain man
I'll sing to fifty millions!
No truckling tricks will do for us,
The this-and-that-way swerving;
If John is pleased to praise you thus,
It's that you're well-deserving:
But should he fawn your faults forsooth?
Such meanness—I abhor it,—
No,—since in love I speak the truth,
Come, kiss your brother for it!
The this-and-that-way swerving;
If John is pleased to praise you thus,
It's that you're well-deserving:
But should he fawn your faults forsooth?
Such meanness—I abhor it,—
No,—since in love I speak the truth,
Come, kiss your brother for it!
Now, lately, with a faithful hand
I touch'd, in love and lightness,
The one black spot upon your land,
The shadow to your brightness;
I know how hard it is to cure
That sore,—and how you rue it,—
But, Jonathan, of this I'm sure,
You'll soon and somehow—do it!
I touch'd, in love and lightness,
The one black spot upon your land,
The shadow to your brightness;
I know how hard it is to cure
That sore,—and how you rue it,—
But, Jonathan, of this I'm sure,
You'll soon and somehow—do it!
456
More haste, less speed; so speed apace,
As prudent duty bids you;
'Twill be indeed a year of grace
That of this scandal rids you:
The land of liberty and light,
The Beacon on the Waters,
Shall soon be quit of blame and blight
For Afric's sons and daughters!
As prudent duty bids you;
'Twill be indeed a year of grace
That of this scandal rids you:
The land of liberty and light,
The Beacon on the Waters,
Shall soon be quit of blame and blight
For Afric's sons and daughters!
You best know how, and why, and when;
For us, we cannot teach you;
But simply,—by the rights of Men
And Women,—we beseech you!
Take copy, brother, only here,—
By Britain's good intentions;
For all beside a conscience clear
We've got but bad inventions!
For us, we cannot teach you;
But simply,—by the rights of Men
And Women,—we beseech you!
Take copy, brother, only here,—
By Britain's good intentions;
For all beside a conscience clear
We've got but bad inventions!
Our faults were haste, and wanton waste,
Disinterested ruin!
Don Quixote stood to tilt for good,
And lo! his own undoing:
But, Jonathan, a shrewder man,
A very early riser,—
I credit you to find a plan
To manage matters wiser!
Disinterested ruin!
Don Quixote stood to tilt for good,
And lo! his own undoing:
But, Jonathan, a shrewder man,
A very early riser,—
I credit you to find a plan
To manage matters wiser!
The wise, my Jonathan, he knows
That all things here need mending;
And best of friends are always those
Who never fear offending;
O blind, and halt, and full of fault
Are men of every nation,
Then how should we, true friend, be free
From that which dims Creation?
That all things here need mending;
And best of friends are always those
Who never fear offending;
457
Are men of every nation,
Then how should we, true friend, be free
From that which dims Creation?
Never again shall we two part
In hatred or rejection,—
Nor ever meet, but either heart
Shall beat with true affection;
Our “brother banners” we will rear
For Fatherland and Sonland,
Because, Columbia near and dear,
We twain are truly one-land!
In hatred or rejection,—
Nor ever meet, but either heart
Shall beat with true affection;
Our “brother banners” we will rear
For Fatherland and Sonland,
Because, Columbia near and dear,
We twain are truly one-land!
Aye, Jonathan,—take John for this,
Your brother staunch and steady,
The very mind and man, I wis,
To like old “Rough and Ready!”
Then—cheers for Taylor,—great and wise
Because un-glory-bitten,—
And—yes, I see it in your eyes,
Nine more for Vic. and Britain!
Your brother staunch and steady,
The very mind and man, I wis,
To like old “Rough and Ready!”
Then—cheers for Taylor,—great and wise
Because un-glory-bitten,—
And—yes, I see it in your eyes,
Nine more for Vic. and Britain!
458
IV.— The “International.”
Charles Lester! a noble and generous mind,
I pray you to print what I send you,
Nor count it a matter unwise and unkind,
Because to your face I commend you;
I love what I love, and I hate what I hate,
And I speak what I choose to be spoken,
As free as your free and imperial state,
And as cordial—by the same token.
I pray you to print what I send you,
Nor count it a matter unwise and unkind,
Because to your face I commend you;
I love what I love, and I hate what I hate,
And I speak what I choose to be spoken,
As free as your free and imperial state,
And as cordial—by the same token.
To-day I've concluded to throw into rhyme
A welcome to this your endeavour
To bind in a friendship sincere and sublime
Two nations for ever and ever!
Two nations? why two? They are one, true and fast,
A Mother, well-blest in a Daughter;
The bygones of both are in ages long past,
Their future is—over the water.
A welcome to this your endeavour
To bind in a friendship sincere and sublime
Two nations for ever and ever!
Two nations? why two? They are one, true and fast,
A Mother, well-blest in a Daughter;
The bygones of both are in ages long past,
Their future is—over the water.
You know me of old, a “proverbial” friend,
A “pyramid-climber” and “poet,”
Of great “probabilities” some to offend,
And “heart” enough always to show it;
With a small “crock of gold,” an “authorial mind,”
And “twins,” and a rare lot of ba-bi-es,
And a spirit [not wife] that was never confined,
Except with poetical ra-bi-es.
A “pyramid-climber” and “poet,”
Of great “probabilities” some to offend,
And “heart” enough always to show it;
With a small “crock of gold,” an “authorial mind,”
And “twins,” and a rare lot of ba-bi-es,
And a spirit [not wife] that was never confined,
Except with poetical ra-bi-es.
459
So, trust me to speak to the toast of to-day,—
“Your New International! vivat!”
A very good thought, let a Britisher say,
For Jonathan's mind to arrive at:
I wot not, how should I? the name that you give
To your frank and fraternal endeavour;
But, liking the fancy, I shout, “May it live,
With editor Lester, for ever!”
“Your New International! vivat!”
A very good thought, let a Britisher say,
For Jonathan's mind to arrive at:
I wot not, how should I? the name that you give
To your frank and fraternal endeavour;
But, liking the fancy, I shout, “May it live,
With editor Lester, for ever!”
You'll see me some day, (and I may as well fling
This advertisement into your pages,)
A homesick, and seasick, and travelsick thing
Haul'd over to visit your sages!
Your Irving, and Willis, and Webster, and Poe;
Your Longfellow, Bryant, and Prescott,
And fifty good fellows I'm longing to know,
With each a good heart in his waistcoat.
This advertisement into your pages,)
A homesick, and seasick, and travelsick thing
Haul'd over to visit your sages!
Your Irving, and Willis, and Webster, and Poe;
Your Longfellow, Bryant, and Prescott,
And fifty good fellows I'm longing to know,
With each a good heart in his waistcoat.
There's Fuller besides, and Sigourney, and Childs,
And all of the rest of the Muses;
And Stephens, released from his Yucatan wilds,
And Dana, forgetting his cruises;
And “Puritan fathers” and sons by the score,
And many a friendly Far-Wester;
And Abbot and Anthon, and three dozen more,
Dodge, Matthews, and Edwards, and—Lester.
And all of the rest of the Muses;
And Stephens, released from his Yucatan wilds,
And Dana, forgetting his cruises;
And “Puritan fathers” and sons by the score,
And many a friendly Far-Wester;
And Abbot and Anthon, and three dozen more,
Dodge, Matthews, and Edwards, and—Lester.
Then bless us! I want to be going to Court
To pay my respects to king Taylor:
Don't kill him, good Brutus! 'Twas only in sport,
So don't let it make you look paler;
No king, but a colleague of highminded men
Set over your heads for good reason,
To pilot the state and be captain,—and then
To come Cincinnatus in season.
To pay my respects to king Taylor:
Don't kill him, good Brutus! 'Twas only in sport,
So don't let it make you look paler;
460
Set over your heads for good reason,
To pilot the state and be captain,—and then
To come Cincinnatus in season.
I'm a Tory, you know, and a monarchy man,
And think that “legitimate” steering
Is something more shipshape and sailorlike than
Con-tin-u-al e-lect-ion-eer-ing:
Yet, honestly, brother, I hardly see how
Your fathers could well have done better
Than choose their own rulers, as you do it now,
Without the old royalist fetter.
And think that “legitimate” steering
Is something more shipshape and sailorlike than
Con-tin-u-al e-lect-ion-eer-ing:
Yet, honestly, brother, I hardly see how
Your fathers could well have done better
Than choose their own rulers, as you do it now,
Without the old royalist fetter.
So, say to your Governor, say it for me,
That Jonathan's brother salutes him;
And wishes him honour; and glad will he be
To pay him as much,—when it suits him:
I'm free as you see; and enlighten'd, a few,—
For I dare to call no man my master:
So, Lester, I sympathise truly with you,
Remaining your warm poetaster.
That Jonathan's brother salutes him;
And wishes him honour; and glad will he be
To pay him as much,—when it suits him:
I'm free as you see; and enlighten'd, a few,—
For I dare to call no man my master:
So, Lester, I sympathise truly with you,
Remaining your warm poetaster.
461
V.— A Stave for the South.
I knew it, I guess'd it! you do what you can;
It's hardly your fault if you can't:
You wish better things; but a man is but Man,
And often must wait and must want:
For System, and matters and things as they are
Have order'd and settled it so,
That we who are judging your case from afar
Know little—how little we know!
It's hardly your fault if you can't:
You wish better things; but a man is but Man,
And often must wait and must want:
For System, and matters and things as they are
Have order'd and settled it so,
That we who are judging your case from afar
Know little—how little we know!
Aye, glad would ye be, (let me credit you this,)
If on your American shore
Slavery never had been as it is,
And never should be any more!
But how to get rid of so ancient an ill,
And safely and sagely to heal
A canker so deep, is the mystery still,
And who shall its riddle reveal?
If on your American shore
Slavery never had been as it is,
And never should be any more!
But how to get rid of so ancient an ill,
And safely and sagely to heal
A canker so deep, is the mystery still,
And who shall its riddle reveal?
Moreover,—and, Conscience, I give thee this nudge,
A sinner, but yesterday shriven,
How dare he set up in the seat of the judge
The culprit so lately forgiven?
But yesterday, half Britain's colonies rung
With slavery's echoing chain,—
And ill it becomes us with Pharisee tongue
To mock at a planter again!
A sinner, but yesterday shriven,
How dare he set up in the seat of the judge
The culprit so lately forgiven?
But yesterday, half Britain's colonies rung
With slavery's echoing chain,—
And ill it becomes us with Pharisee tongue
To mock at a planter again!
462
Yet more: for that planter's own father—and our's,
This sin as a legacy left,
A fly in the ointment, a snake in the flowers,
An Achan's inherited theft!
O Britain, thy child, thy Columbian child
Received at thy step-mother hand
The gain—or the curse, that we hold him defiled
If he leaves, as he found, in the land!
This sin as a legacy left,
A fly in the ointment, a snake in the flowers,
An Achan's inherited theft!
O Britain, thy child, thy Columbian child
Received at thy step-mother hand
The gain—or the curse, that we hold him defiled
If he leaves, as he found, in the land!
And well do I gather, O friends in the South,
That zealots dishonestly rave
With bitter intent and a slanderous mouth
Of the woes that you deal to the slave;
Not cruel, not careless of body or mind,
Not heartless, nor heedless are ye,—
But good and true masters, indulgent and kind,
Aye, kinder than we to the free!
That zealots dishonestly rave
With bitter intent and a slanderous mouth
Of the woes that you deal to the slave;
Not cruel, not careless of body or mind,
Not heartless, nor heedless are ye,—
But good and true masters, indulgent and kind,
Aye, kinder than we to the free!
For sadly I note that on Liberty's coast
The Briton may starve at his toil,
Though loud be profession, and principle's boast
That here are no serfs of the soil!
Ah, tell me how freedom is freedom, if Life
Depends upon servitude stern?
And perishing children and famishing wife
Live only so long as you earn?
The Briton may starve at his toil,
Though loud be profession, and principle's boast
That here are no serfs of the soil!
Ah, tell me how freedom is freedom, if Life
Depends upon servitude stern?
And perishing children and famishing wife
Live only so long as you earn?
No! words are not things: unfairly we speak
As if freedom were freedom indeed;
While pallid and hollow is poverty's cheek,
And deeply her bosom doth bleed:
Let Britain and Erin and all the world o'er,
Though boasting of liberty still,
Be humble and dumb, when the weak and the poor
Drain Slavery's bitterest ill!
As if freedom were freedom indeed;
While pallid and hollow is poverty's cheek,
And deeply her bosom doth bleed:
463
Though boasting of liberty still,
Be humble and dumb, when the weak and the poor
Drain Slavery's bitterest ill!
And more: for of old a mysterious curse
Dark Canäan mark'd for its prey;
And Prophecy knew that their lot should be worse,
“The servants of servants” are they!
And if the glad Gospel has scatter'd that harm
With a Catholic message of peace,
It is not at once that it shatters the charm
And calls on the sorrow to cease!
Dark Canäan mark'd for its prey;
And Prophecy knew that their lot should be worse,
“The servants of servants” are they!
And if the glad Gospel has scatter'd that harm
With a Catholic message of peace,
It is not at once that it shatters the charm
And calls on the sorrow to cease!
So then, loving brother! consider my speech;
I judge not; I dare not condemn;
But let the great nations of History teach
How slavery's curse ruin'd them!
Let Babylon, Persia, and Athens, and Tyre,
And Egypt, and Carthage, and Rome,
Declare the dark doom that they saw drawing nigher,
As slavery swarm'd in the home!
I judge not; I dare not condemn;
But let the great nations of History teach
How slavery's curse ruin'd them!
Let Babylon, Persia, and Athens, and Tyre,
And Egypt, and Carthage, and Rome,
Declare the dark doom that they saw drawing nigher,
As slavery swarm'd in the home!
With shame I confess that so late and so long
We, Britons and Christians and all,
Against our Father and brethren did wrong
By holding those brethren in thrall:
Yet now have we turn'd from the sin and the shame
And tenderly pray and expect
The child whom we love to do sagely the same
Before he be ruin'd and wreck'd!
We, Britons and Christians and all,
Against our Father and brethren did wrong
By holding those brethren in thrall:
Yet now have we turn'd from the sin and the shame
And tenderly pray and expect
The child whom we love to do sagely the same
Before he be ruin'd and wreck'd!
464
Move wisely and warily; haste is but waste
Of mercy, and safety, and wealth:
Remember that prudence was never misplaced,
And good may be compass'd by stealth:
For Prudence is Providence all the world o'er,
And wiser than we were, be ye;
Teach, train, and instruct, ere you open the door
To let the born bondman go free.
Of mercy, and safety, and wealth:
Remember that prudence was never misplaced,
And good may be compass'd by stealth:
For Prudence is Providence all the world o'er,
And wiser than we were, be ye;
Teach, train, and instruct, ere you open the door
To let the born bondman go free.
In wisdom and mercy, redeem when you can;
Let good willing service be paid;
Remember the rights and the wrongs of a Man,
And that “of one blood we are made;”
Hold sacred Affections, in black as in white;
No babe from the mother divide;
And welcome, as friendly, Religion's true Light;
And lay the red lashes aside!
Let good willing service be paid;
Remember the rights and the wrongs of a Man,
And that “of one blood we are made;”
Hold sacred Affections, in black as in white;
No babe from the mother divide;
And welcome, as friendly, Religion's true Light;
And lay the red lashes aside!
Then, in the full season, with caution and care
Join England in freeing the slave;
And all the degenerate world shall not dare
Take from him the gift that we gave!
If glorious Columbia with Britain unite
In killing this hydra of earth,
Oh! Man shall have gain'd more of Good and of Right,
Than all California's worth!
Join England in freeing the slave;
And all the degenerate world shall not dare
Take from him the gift that we gave!
If glorious Columbia with Britain unite
In killing this hydra of earth,
Oh! Man shall have gain'd more of Good and of Right,
Than all California's worth!
465
VI.— “Yet once again.”
Yet once again, my Jonathan!
Your loving brother greets you,
To do you all the good he can,
Yes, every time he meets you;
To speak with true and tender tongue,
Not like a scolding Stentor,
But (though a year or so too young)
A frank and faithful Mentor.
Your loving brother greets you,
To do you all the good he can,
Yes, every time he meets you;
To speak with true and tender tongue,
Not like a scolding Stentor,
But (though a year or so too young)
A frank and faithful Mentor.
See! from my tassell'd wrist upsprings
No falcon with its jesses,
But a fair dove, whose silver wings
Were made for soft caresses;
Right glad the olive-branch to bear
Across the sounding ocean,
And find a welcome everywhere
In every heart's emotion!
No falcon with its jesses,
But a fair dove, whose silver wings
Were made for soft caresses;
Right glad the olive-branch to bear
Across the sounding ocean,
And find a welcome everywhere
In every heart's emotion!
And here to-day my carrier dove
Is burden'd with a packet,
Which, well inscribed with peace and love,
Has justice too to back it;
For many sterner souls there be
Who nurse their wrongs intently,
And well it were, if all, like me,
Could judge and chide you gently.
Is burden'd with a packet,
Which, well inscribed with peace and love,
Has justice too to back it;
For many sterner souls there be
Who nurse their wrongs intently,
And well it were, if all, like me,
Could judge and chide you gently.
They say,—aye, many sorts of men,
In bitterness they say it,—
You borrow'd of the world, and then
Resolve you won't repay it;
That sundry of the thirty States
Which heap your giant nation,
Disgrace their honourable mates
By rank “Repudiation.”
In bitterness they say it,—
You borrow'd of the world, and then
Resolve you won't repay it;
466
Which heap your giant nation,
Disgrace their honourable mates
By rank “Repudiation.”
They say,—and make believe you say,—
“What fools they were to lend it;
We calculate that everyway
They gave it us to spend it:
And since it's sunk in road and rail,
Canal, and dock, and clearing,—
Our creditors are out of hail,
And we'll be hard of hearing!”
“What fools they were to lend it;
We calculate that everyway
They gave it us to spend it:
And since it's sunk in road and rail,
Canal, and dock, and clearing,—
Our creditors are out of hail,
And we'll be hard of hearing!”
I don't believe it, Jonathan;
You're wiser, truer, better:
I know you'll pay us when you can,
And blush to be a debtor:
Not Illinois, nor Michigan,
Florida, nor Arkansas,
Nor Mississippi, to a man,
Would give such shabby answers:
You're wiser, truer, better:
I know you'll pay us when you can,
And blush to be a debtor:
Not Illinois, nor Michigan,
Florida, nor Arkansas,
Nor Mississippi, to a man,
Would give such shabby answers:
I don't believe it; never did;
I'd buy your stocks to-morrow;
I only wish my purse could bid
For all that you can borrow;
I'd lend in faith and patience too,
But cannot quite afford it,—
Because in lending cash to you
I know we do but hoard it.
I'd buy your stocks to-morrow;
I only wish my purse could bid
For all that you can borrow;
I'd lend in faith and patience too,
But cannot quite afford it,—
Because in lending cash to you
I know we do but hoard it.
467
For, men must wait at any rate
(It stands to rhyme and reason,)
Till Labour in a rising State
Produces in its season;
Till banks, canals, and roads, and rails
Are well in working order,
And better hap and prosperous gales
Are every one's rewarder.
(It stands to rhyme and reason,)
Till Labour in a rising State
Produces in its season;
Till banks, canals, and roads, and rails
Are well in working order,
And better hap and prosperous gales
Are every one's rewarder.
Now then!—Behold that better hap!
A mighty store of treasure
Is pour'd into Columbia's lap
In Californian measure;
Commerce, and labour, land, and gold,
And spirited migration
Now bless your shores an hundredfold
And—shame Repudiation!
A mighty store of treasure
Is pour'd into Columbia's lap
In Californian measure;
Commerce, and labour, land, and gold,
And spirited migration
Now bless your shores an hundredfold
And—shame Repudiation!
Up, worthies all! up, kindly stock!
Up, all my honest hearties!
And bring to shame's own whipping-block
The few defaulting parties:
Why should a tythe of all your States
Throw scorn upon the others,
And lay dishonour'd debts as rates
Upon their better brothers?
Up, all my honest hearties!
And bring to shame's own whipping-block
The few defaulting parties:
Why should a tythe of all your States
Throw scorn upon the others,
And lay dishonour'd debts as rates
Upon their better brothers?
No! ten long years is long enough
Without a longer dating:
And times are smooth that once were rough,
And all the world's awaiting:
And many sneers at Jonathan
Will no more get a hearing,
And spite have lived its little span
In bygone pamphleteering:
Without a longer dating:
And times are smooth that once were rough,
And all the world's awaiting:
468
Will no more get a hearing,
And spite have lived its little span
In bygone pamphleteering:
And many a widow's heart for joy
Will brighten into gladness,—
And many an orphan girl and boy
Forget their years of sadness,—
And many an honest poor old man
Shall have outlived his ruin,
If you, my brother Jonathan,
Be only up and doing!
Will brighten into gladness,—
And many an orphan girl and boy
Forget their years of sadness,—
And many an honest poor old man
Shall have outlived his ruin,
If you, my brother Jonathan,
Be only up and doing!
Pull one, pull all! and break away
From this reproachful halter,
Let not one witling have to say,
One Yankee's a defaulter:
Kick out the rogues, if rogues there be;
Why should they blot your brightness?
And let all Europe shout to see
Your honour and uprightness!
From this reproachful halter,
Let not one witling have to say,
One Yankee's a defaulter:
Kick out the rogues, if rogues there be;
Why should they blot your brightness?
And let all Europe shout to see
Your honour and uprightness!
O children of a noble race,
Go on and prosper greatly!
I love your Anglo-Saxon face,
A British face so lately:
Let Spain alone be found in fraud,
And scorn be found upon her;
But stand with us, and blaze abroad
In Anglo-Saxon honour!
Go on and prosper greatly!
I love your Anglo-Saxon face,
A British face so lately:
Let Spain alone be found in fraud,
And scorn be found upon her;
But stand with us, and blaze abroad
In Anglo-Saxon honour!
| Ballads for the Times | |