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THY error, Fremont, simply was to act 1 A brave man's part, without the states
man's tact, And, taking counsel but of common sense, To strike at cause as well as consequence. 0, never yet since Roland wound his horn At Roncesvalles, has a blast been blown Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own, Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn! It had been safer, doubtless, for the time, To flatter treason, and avoid offence To that Dark Power whose underlying crime Heaves upward its perpetual turbulence.
But, if thine be the fate of all who break
through thee, Irrevocable, the mighty words, Be free! The land shakes with them, and the slave's
D 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
“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.