TO JOHN C. FREMONT. `HY error, Fremont, simply was to act THY A brave man's part, without the states man's tact, And, taking counsel but of common sense, To that Dark Power whose underlying crime Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence. But, if thine be the fate of all who break The ground for truth's seed, or forerun their years Till lost in distance, or with stout hearts make A lane for freedom through the level spears, Still take thou courage! God has spoken through thee, Irrevocable, the mighty words, Be free! The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull ear Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear. Who would recall them now must first arrest The winds that blow down from the free North west, Ruffling the Gulf; or like a scroll roll back But the full time to harden into things. THE WATCHERS. B ESIDE a stricken field I stood; On the torn turf, on grass and wood, Hung heavily the dew of blood. Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain, Two angels, each with drooping head The one, with forehead saintly bland The other's brows were scarred and knit, "How long!"-I knew the voice of Peace, "Is there no respite? no release? When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? "O Lord, how long! - One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag thy winds unroll. "What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave, Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave "O brother! if thine eye can see, Then Freedom sternly said: "I shun "I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock, "The moor of Marston felt my tread, Through Jersey snows the march I led, My voice Magenta's charges sped. "But now, through weary day and night, I watch a vague and aimless fight For leave to strike one blow aright. |