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TO FANEUIL HALL

1844.

MEN!-if manhood still

ye claim,

If the Northern pulse can thrill, Roused by wrong or stung by shame, Freely, strongly still :

Let the sounds of traffic die:

Shut the mill-gate-leave the stall— Fling the axe and hammer byThrong to Faneuil Hall!

Wrongs which freemen never brooked--
Dangers grim and fierce as they,
Which, like couching lions, looked
On your fathers' way;-
These your instant zeal demand,
Shaking with their earthquake-call

Every rood of Pilgrim land-
Ho, to Faneuil Hall!

From your capes and sandy bars—

From your mountain-ridges cold, Through whose pines the westering stars Stoop their crowns of gold

Come, and with your footsteps wake

Echoes from that holy wall:

Once again, for Freedom's sake,
Rock your fathers' hall!

Up, and tread beneath your feet
Every cord by party spun;
Let your hearts together beat
As the heart of one.

Banks and tariffs, stocks and trade,
Let them rise or let them fall:

Freedom asks your common aid—
Up, to Faneuil Hall!

Up, and let each voice that speaks
Ring from thence to Southern plains,
Sharply as the blow which breaks
Prison-bolts and chains!

Speak as well becomes the free-
Dreaded more than steel or ball,
Shall your calmest utterance be,
Heard from Faneuil Hall!

Have they wronged us? Let us then
Render back nor threats nor prayers;
Have they chained our free-born men?
LET US UNCHAIN THEIRS!
Up! your banner leads the van,
Blazoned “Liberty for all!”
Finish what your sires began-
Up, to Faneuil Hall!

TO MASSACHUSETTS.

1844.

WHAT though around thee blazes
No fiery rallying sign?
From all thy own high places,

Give heaven the light of thine!
What though unthrilled, unmoving,
The statesman stands apart,
And comes no warm approving
From Mammon's crowded mart?

Still, let the land be shaken

By a summons of thine own!

By all save truth forsaken,
Why, stand with that alone!
Shrink not from strife unequal!
With the best is always hope;
And ever in the sequel

God holds the right side up!

But when, with thine uniting,
Come voices long and loud,
And far-off hills are writing
Thy fire-words on the cloud:
When from Penobscot's fountains
A deep response is heard,
And across the Western mountains
Rolls back thy rallying word;

Shall thy line of battle falter,
With its allies just in view?
Oh, by hearth and holy altar,
My Father-land be true!
Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom!
Speed them onward far and fast!
Over hill and valley speed them,
Like the Sibyl's on the blast!

Lo! the Empire State is shaking
The shackles from her hand;
With the rugged North is waking
The level sunset land!

On they come-the free battalions!
East and West and North they come,
And the heart-beat of the millions
Is the beat of Freedom's drum.

"To the tyrant's plot no favor!
No heed to place-fed knaves!
Bar and bolt the door forever
Against the land of Slaves!"

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Hear it, mother Earth, and hear it,
The Heavens above us spread!
The land is roused-its spirit
Was sleeping, but not dead!

THE PINE-TREE.

1846.

LIFT again the stately emblem on the Bay State's rusted shield,

Give to Northern winds the Pine-Tree on our banner's tattered field,

Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles round the board,

Answering England's royal missive with a firm, "THUS SAITH THE LORD!"

Rise again for home and freedom!—set the battle in array!—

What the fathers did of old time we their sons must do to-day.

Tell us not of banks and tariffs- -cease your paltry peddler cries—

Shall the good State sink her honor that your gambling stocks may rise?

Would ye barter man for cotton ?-That your gains may sum up higher,

Must we kiss the feet of Moloch, pass our children through the fire?

Is the dollar only real?-God and truth and right a dream?

Weighed against your lying ledgers must our manhood kick the beam?

Oh, my God!--for that free spirit, which of old in
Boston town

1

Smote the Province House with terror, struck the crest of Andros down!

For another strong-voiced Adams in the city's

streets to cry:

"Up for God and Massachusetts !-Set your feet on Mammon's lie!

Perish banks and perish traffic-spin your cotton's latest pound

But in Heaven's name keep your honor-keep the heart o' the Bay State sound!"

Where's the MAN for Massachusetts ?-Where's the voice to speak her free?—

Where's the hand to light up bonfires from her mountains to the sea?

Beats her Pilgrim pulse no longer?-Sits she dumb in her despair?—

Has she none to break the silence ?-Has she none to do and dare?

Oh my God! for one right worthy to lift up her rusted shield,

And to plant again the Pine-Tree in her banner's tattered field!

LINES,

SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO THE CITY OF WASHINGTON IN THE 12TH MONTH OF 1845.

WITH a cold and wintry noon-light,
On its roofs and steeples shed,
Shadows weaving with the sunlight

From the gray sky overhead,

Broadly, vaguely, all around me, lies the half-built town outspread.

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