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Young Romance raised his dreamy eyes,
Yet louder rang the Strong One's stroke,
aside the dust-cloud rolled,-
'Twas but the ruin of the bad,
The wasting of the wrong and ill;
Calm grew the brows of him I feared;
The grain grew green on battle-plains,
Where frowned the fort, pavilions gay,
And cottage windows flower-entwined,
Looked out upon the peaceful bay
Through vine-wreathed cups, with wine once red,
And mossy well.
Through prison-walls, like Heaven-sent hope, Fresh breezes blew, and sunbeams strayed,
And with the idle gallows-rope
The young child played.
Where the doomed victim in his cell
Grown wiser for the lesson given,
The outworn rite, the old abuse,
These wait their doom, from that great law
O backward-looking son of time!
So wisely taught the Indian seer;
Destroying Seva, forming Brahm, Who wake by turns Earth's love and fear, Are one, the same.
Idly as thou, in that old day
Thou mournest, did thy sire repine;
But life shall on and upward go;
Take heart-the Waster builds again,—
God works in all things; all obey
His first propulsion from the night:
[In the report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, S. C., on the 4th of the 9th month, 1835, published in the Courier of that city, it is stated, "The clergy of all denominations attended in a body, lending their sanction to the proceedings, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene."]
JUST God!—and these are they
Who minister at thine altar, God of Right!
What! preach, and kidnap men?
What! servants of thy own
Merciful Son, who came to seek and save
Pilate and Herod friends!
Chief priests and rulers as of old combine!
Paid hypocrites, who turn
Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book
Of those high words of truth which search and burn In warning and rebuke;
Feed fat, ye locusts, feed!
And, in your tasselled pulpits, thank the Lord
How long, O Lord! how long
Is not thy hand stretched forth
Woe then to all who grind
Their brethren of a common Father down!
Woe to the priesthood! woe
To those whose hire is with the price of blood,—
Their glory and their might
Shall perish; and their very names shall be
Of a world's liberty.
Oh speed the moment on
When Wrong shall cease, and Liberty and Love
THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE.
[In a late publication of L. T. Tasistro,-Random Shots and Southern Breezes, — is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as 66 A GOOD CHRISTIAN!']
"A CHRISTIAN! going, gone!"
Who bids for God's own image?-for his grace,
My God! can such things be?
Hast thou not said that whatsoe'er is done
In that sad victim, then,
Child of thy pitying love, I see thee stand,-
A Christian up for sale!
Wet with her blood your whips, o'ertask her frame,
A heathen hand might deal
Back on your heads the gathered wrong of
Con well thy lesson o'er,
Thou prudent teacher,―tell the toiling slave
But wisely shut the ray
Of God's free Gospel from her simple heart,
One stern command,-OBEY!