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Yet should one dare to question
The primeval earth's fluidity,
Geologists would sneer and hiss,
And call it sheer stupidity:
These scientific men of letters
Regard themselves as Moses' betters.
Oh, why should poets dream so sadly!
Hath poesy no other strain
Or why, misanthropes, rave so madly,
Can hatred break love's golden chain !
Linked to the brightest hopes we cherish,
It vibrates through eternal years; But broken, every ray must perish
Amid the gloom of skeptic fears.
From things of nature's first creation,
To orders of a higher mould;
From eyes that beam with animation,
And hearts that throb with powers untold ;
From world to luminous world extending,
Unbroken lies love's golden chain; From sphere to loftier sphere ascending,
Till heaven ends the glittering train.
Dimly it skirts hell's dark dominions,
And glimmers on the verge of night; And now upborne on seraph's pinions,
It melts in heaven's purest light.
Twilight shadows thick were flying,
Like the leaves of autumn sighing,
Sighing as they fall;
Sprites with bat-like.wings distended,
Brushed the lamps that hung depended
From night's dusky wall.
Winds, that all the day had rustled
Through the leafy groves, now bustled
Blustering o'er the plains.
Midnight gloom was creeping o'er me,
As the lamp burned dim before me,
Fitfully it waned.
Mournfully the windows clattered,
While without the rain-drops pattered,
Coals upon the grate were glowing,
But with wild, strange light were throwing
Shadows on the floor.
One by one I saw them dying,
Crumbling and in ashes lying,
Tinkling as they fell;
So, thought I, if all we cherish,
Like these fading embers, perish,
What can break Fate's spelli
Thus, if every pure emotion
Sink in passion's boundless ocean,
Fathomless and drear,
How shall every holy feeling
Melt in christian light, revealing
Cordials for each fearl
Softly o'er my brow were playing
Breezes, while a voice seemed saying
Jesus is the way;
Morning shall dispel thy sadness,
As the birds, with songs of gladness,
Welcome in the day.
So shall faith unbar hope's prison,
When the sun of truth is risen,
Setting conscience free;
Mind shall soar on buoyant pinions,
Scanning nature's vast dominions,
“In olden time,” tradition says,
“When Charity was young,
A squad of philanthropic flies,
Of every caste and tongue,
Assembled on the bright green glade,
With circumspect intention,
Beneath a palm tree's spreading shade,
In general convention.
A dignitary filled the chair,
With parchment, scrip and scribe,
And many a delegate was there,
from every buzzing tribe.
A worthy sage, with numerous eyes,
And legs of great dimension,
Arose, and in the following wise,
Addressed the said convention.
“Most excellent sir, and worthies all,'
The speaker thus began,
“Our tyrants, ever since the fall
That so perverted man,
That threw all nature out of gear,
Have tried their subtlest arts,
To see how they could best ensnare
The victim of their sports
Our flesh and blood too long have been
A staple of their food,
And now 'tis time that we begin
To seek each other's good;
To rescue from the iron heel
Of tyranny our brothers,
To make our vile oppressors feel
That we are good as others.
For this most holy cause we're met,
In this secluded place,
To take some measures requisite
To guard our injured race.
These ugly, sprawling monsters weavo
Their webs in every hole,
Where they suspect or half believe
A fly is like to crawl;
Then in some corner lie in wait,
Till one comes peeping in,
When, oh l 'tis horrid to relate,
The bloody monsters spin
Their tangled webs around him fasty
Regardless of his
Then with a fiendish grin at last,
They pick his quivering bones.
Arise ye patriots, break your chains,
And say we will be free!
A vict'ry shall reward our pains;
To arms 'tis fate's decree l'
The stamping of countless feet declar'd
That willing hearts were found,
While a wondrous buzzing fill'd the air
many rods around.
Speaker. "They say they have a natural right
To trap the thievish fly,
That justice, always yields to might: (4 voice) "The villains lie.”
Speaker. “They say we're all such pilfering things,
That mankind think us asses,
Because we dip our filthy wings,” (4 voice.) “In their molasses."
Speaker. “They say the Fates did not design
That we should e'er be free,
That they have organs more refined,
And whiter blood than we.
They think us low and worthless curs,
Not worth an altercation:
Brothers, my blood with anger stirs,
And fury's indignation.
Their boasts are all a pack of lies,
And most consummate knavery ;
With death, we will not compromise,
Nor covenant with slavery.
Therefore, I offer, noble sirs,
A list of resolutions,
With which my heart in full concurs,
But wait your wise conclusions :"