THE PRESENT CRISIS. 237 Worshippers of light ancestral make the present light a crime. Was the Mayflower launched by cowards? steered by men behind their time? Turn those tracks toward Past, or Future, that make Plymouth Rock sublime ? They were men of present valor, iconoclasts; stalwart old Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue was the Past's; But we make their truth our falsehood, thinking that has made us free, Hoarding it in mouldy parchments, while our tender spirits flee The rude grasp of that great Impulse which drove them across the sea. New occasions teach new duties! Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key. 238 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. JANUARY FIRST, EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTYTHREE. BY W. D. GALLAGHER. TAND like an anvil, when 't is beaten STAND With the full vigor of the smith's right arm! Stand like the noble oak-tree, when 't is eaten By the Saperda and his ravenous swarm! For many smiths will strike the ringing blows Ere the red drama now enacting close; And human insects, gnawing at thy fame, Conspire to bring thy honored head to shame. Stand like the firmament, upholden By an invisible but Almighty hand! He whomsoever JUSTICE doth embolden, Unshaken, unseduced, unawed shall stand. With noble aims, than walls of granite are; Stand like the rock that looks defiant Far o'er the surging seas that lash its form ! Composed, determined, watchful, self-reliant, Be master of thyself, and rule the storm! THE PROCLAMATION. And thou shalt soon behold the bow of peace 239 Span the broad heavens, and the wild tumult cease; And see the billows, with the clouds that meet,` Subdued and calm, come crouching to thy feet. Kentucky, December, 1862. THE PROCLAMATION. BY JOHN G. WHITTIER. SAINT Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds Of Ballymena, sleeping, heard these words : "Arise, and flee Out from the land of bondage, and be free!” Glad as a soul in pain, who hears from heaven And, wondering, sees His prison opening to their golden keys, Into the glorious liberty of God. He cast the symbols of his shame away; 240' THE PROCLAMATION. Though back and limb Smarted with wrong, he prayed, "God pardon him!" So went he forth: but in God's time he came The land a Saint that lost him as a Slave. O, dark, sad millions, patiently and dumb Breaks the long silence of your night of wrong! Arise, and flee! shake off the vile restraint The oppressor spare, Go forth, like him! like him return again, And heal with Freedom what your Slavery cursed. AN APPEAL. 241 AN APPEAL. BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. LISTEN, young heroes! your country is calling! Time strikes the hour for the brave and the true! Now, while the foremost are fighting and falling, Fill up the ranks that have opened for you! You whom the fathers made free and defended, Stain not the scroll that emblazons their fame! You whose fair heritage spotless descended, Leave not your children a birthright of shame! Stay not for questions while Freedom stands gasp ing! Wait not till Honor lies wrapped in his pall! Brief the lips' meeting be, swift the hands' clasp ing, "Off for the wars!" is enough for them all. Break from the arms that would fondly caress you! Hark! 'tis the bugle-blast, sabres are drawn! Mothers shall pray for you, fathers shall bless you, Maidens shall weep for you when you are gone! |