Images de page
PDF
ePub

good and patriotic reasons for what they did; when the heart of Massachusetts came back to him full of the old love and confidence, assuring him that he would again be her chosen son for her representative seat in the House of States; when the lawgivers of the old Commonwealth, obeying an irresistible impulse of justice, wiped away from the records of the Legislature, and from the fair name of the State, that resolution of censure which had stung him so deeply; and when returning vigor lifted him up, and a new sunburst of hope illumined his life! How thankful we all

are that he lived that one year longer!

[ocr errors]

And yet, have you thought of it? if he had died in those dark days, when so many clouds hung over him, would not then the much-villified man have been the same Charles Sumner, whose death but one year later afflicted millions of hearts with a pang of bereavement, whose praise is now on every lip for the purity of his life, for his fidelity to great principles, and for the loftiness of his patriotism? Was he not a year ago the same, - the same in purpose, the same in principle, the same in character? What had he done then that so many who praise him to-day should have then disowned him? See what he had done. He had simply been true to his convictions of duty. He had approved and urged what he thought right; he had attacked and opposed what he thought wrong.

To his convictions of duty he had sacrificed political associations most dear to him, the security of his position of which he was proud. For his convictions of duty he had stood up against those more powerful than he; he had exposed himself to reproach, obloquy, and persecution. Had he not done so, he would not have been the man you praise today; and yet for doing so he was cried down but yesterday.

He had lived up to the great word he spoke when he entered the Senate, - "The slave of principle, I call no party master." That declaration was greeted with applause; and when, true to his word, he refused to call a party master, the act was covered with reproach.

CARL SCHURZ.

ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.

"MOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
In the sunshine bright and strong,
For this world is fading, Pompey,-
Massa won't be with you long;
And I fain would hear the south wind
Bring once more the sound to me
Of the wavelets softly breaking
On the shores of Tennessee.

"Mournful though the ripples murmur,
As they still the story tell,
How no vessels float the banner
That I've loved so long and well,

I shall listen to their music,

Dreaming that again I see

Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop,
Sailing up the Tennessee.

"And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting For Death's last despatch to come,

If that exiled starry banner

Should come proudly sailing home, You shall greet it, slave no longer, Voice and hand shall both be free, That shout and point to Union colors, On the waves of Tennessee.”

"Massa's berry kind to Pompey ;
But ole darky's happy here,
Where he's tended corn and cotton
For 'ese many a long-gone year.
Over yonder Missis's sleeping, -

No one tends her grave like me;
Mebbe she would miss the flowers
She used to love in Tennessee.

"'Pears like she was watching, Massa, If Pompey should beside him stay; Mebbe she'd remember better

How for him she used to pray ; Telling him that way up yonder White as snow his soul would be, If he served the Lord of heaven

While he lived in Tennessee."

Silently the tears were rolling

Down the poor old dusky face,
As he stepped behind his master,
In his long-accustomed place.
Then a silence fell around them,
As they gazed on rock and tree,
Pictured in the placid waters
Of the rolling Tennessee; -
Master, dreaming of the battle

Where he fought by Marion's side,
When he bid the haughty Tarleton
Stoop his lordly crest of pride;
Man, remembering how yon sleeper
Once he held upon his knee,
Ere she loved the gallant soldier,
Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.

Still the south wind fondly lingers
'Mid the veteran's silvery hair;
Still the bondman, close beside him,
Stands behind the old arm-chair.
With his dark-hued hand uplifted,
Shading eyes, he bends to see
Where the woodland, boldly jutting,
Turns aside the Tennessee.

Thus he watches cloud-born shadows
Glide from tree to mountain crest,

Softly creeping, aye and ever,

To the river's yielding breast.

Ha! above the foliage yonder
Something flutters wild and free!
"Massa! Massa! hallelujuah!

The flag's come back to Tennessee!'

"Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,
Help me stand on foot once more,
That I may salute the colors

As they pass my cabin door.

Here's the paper signed that frees you;
Give a freeman's shout with me-
'God and Union!' be our watchword
Evermore in Tennessee.”

Then the trembling voice grew fainter,

And the limbs refused to stand;

One prayer to Jesus

and the soldier

Glided to that better land.

When the flag went down the river,
Man and master both were free,

While the ring-dove's note was mingled
With the rippling Tennessee.

E. S. BEERS.

PRESS ON.

PRESS ON; there's no such word as fail;
Press nobly on! the goal is near,
Ascend the mountain! breast the gale!
Look upward, onward, never fear!
Why should'st thou faint? Heaven smiles above
Though storm and vapor intervene ;
That sun shines on, whose name is Love,

Serenely o'er life's shadowed scene.

Press on! surmount the rocky steeps,
Climb boldly o'er the torrents' arch;
He fails alone who feebly creeps;

He wins who dares the hero's march.
Be thou a hero! let thy might

Tramp on eternal snows its way, And through the ebon walls of night, Hew down a passage unto day.

Press on! if once, and twice thy feet
Slip back and stumble, harder try;
From him who never dreads to meet
Danger and death, they're sure to fly.
To coward ranks the bullet speeds;
While on their breasts who never quail,
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds,
Bright courage like a coat of mail.

Press on if fortune play thee false
To-day, to-morrow she'll be true;
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts,
Taking old gifts and granting new.
The wisdom of the present hour,

Makes up for follies past and gone;
To weakness strength succeeds, and power
From frailty springs — Press on! press on!

[ocr errors]

Press on what though upon the ground
Thy love has been poured out like rain?

That happiness is always found

The sweetest that is born of pain.
Oft 'mid the forest's deepest glooms,
A bird sings from some blighted tree:
And in the dreariest desert, blooms
A never dying rose for thee.

« PrécédentContinuer »