BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE. Jo BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE. OHN BROWN OF OSSAWATOMIE spake on his dying day: "I will not have to shrive my soul a priest in Slavery's pay. But let some poor slave-mother whom I have striven to free, With her children from the gallows-stair put up a prayer for me!" 89 John Brown of Ossawatomie, they led him out to die; And lo! a poor slave-mother with her little child pressed nigh. Then the bold, blue eye grew tender, and the old harsh face grew mild, As he stooped between the jeering ranks and kissed the negro's child! The shadows of his stormy life that moment fell apart; So vainly shall Virginia set her battle in array; In vain her trampling squadrons knead the winter snow with clay. She may strike the pouncing eagle, but she dares not harm the dove; And every gate she bars to Hate shall open wide to Love! I THE RENDITION. HEARD the train's shrill whistle call, I saw an earnest look beseech, And rather by that look than speech My neighbor told me all. And, as I thought of Liberty Marched handcuffed down that sworded street, The solid earth beneath my feet Reeled fluid as the sea. LINES I felt a sense of bitter loss, Shame, tearless grief, and stifling wrath, A serpent stretched across. All love of home, all pride of place, Down on my native hills of June, And Law, an unloosed maniac, strong, The blasphemy of wrong. "O Mother, from thy memories proud, "Mother of Freedom, wise and brave, 6th mo., 1854. 91 LINES, ON THE PASSAGE OF THE BILL TO PROTECT THE RIGHTS AND LIBERTIES OF THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE AGAINST THE FUGITIVE SLAVE ACT. I SAID I stood upon thy grave, My Mother State, when last the moon And, scattering ashes on my head, Again that moon of blossoms shines Once more thy strong maternal arms No threat is on thy closed lips, The vision of a Christian man, And thou, amidst thy sisterhood When North and South shall strive no more, And all their feuds and fears be lost In Freedom's holy Pentecost. 6th mo., 1855. |