War Poetry of the South | Page 7

of the Republics.
Charleston Mercury.
Thus, the grand fabric of a thousand years--?Rear'd with such art and wisdom--by a race?Of giant sires, in virtue all compact,?Self-sacrificing; having grand ideals?Of public strength, and peoples capable?Of great conceptions for the common good,?And of enduring liberties, kept strong?Through purity;--tumbles and falls apart,?Lacking cement in virtue; and assail'd?Within, without, by greed of avarice,?And vain ambition for supremacy.
So fell the old Republics--Gentile and Jew,?Roman and Greek--such evermore the record;?Mix'd glory and shame, still lapsing into greed,?From conquest and from triumph, into fall!?The glory that we see exchanged for guilt?Might yet be glory. There were pride enough,?And emulous ambition to achieve,--?Both generous powers, when coupled with endowment,?To do the work of States--and there were courage?And sense of public need, and public welfare,--?And duty--in a brave but scattered few,?Throughout the States--had these been credited?To combat 'gainst the popular appetites.?But these were scorn'd and set aside for naught,?As lacking favor with the popular lusts!?They found reward in exile or in death!?And he alone who could debase his spirit,?And file his mind down to the basest nature?Grew capp'd with rule!--
So, with the lapse?From virtue, the great nation forfeits all?The pride with the security--the liberty,?With that prime modesty which keeps the heart?Upright, in meek subjection, to the doubts?That wait upon Humanity, and teach?Humility, as best check and guaranty,?Against the wolfish greed of appetite!?Worst of all signs, assuring coming doom,?When peoples loathe to listen to the praise?Of their great men; and, jealous of just claims,?Eagerly set upon them to revile,?And banish from their councils! Worse than all?When the great man, succumbing to the mass,?Yields up his mind as a low instrument?To vulgar fingers, to be played upon:--?Yields to the vulgar lure, the cunning bribe?Of place or profit, and makes sale of States?To Party!
Thus and then are States subdued--?'Till one vast central tyranny upstarts,?With front of glittering brass, but legs of clay;?Insolent, reckless of account as right,--?While lust grows license, and tears off the robes?From justice; and makes right a thing of mock;?And puts a foolscap on the head of law,?And plucks the baton of authority?From his right hand, and breaks it o'er his head.
So rages still the irresponsible power,?Using the madden'd populace as hounds,?To hunt down freedom where she seeks retreat.?The ancient history becomes the new--?The ages move in circles, and the snake?Ends ever with his tail in his own mouth.?Thus still in all the past!--and man the same?In all the ages--a poor thing of passion,?Hot greed, and miserable vanity,?And all infirmities of lust and error,?Makes of himself the wretched instrument?To murder his own hope.
So empires fall,--?Past, present, and to come!--
There is no hope?For nations or peoples, once they lapse from virtue?And fail in modest sense of what they are--?Creatures of weakness, whose security?Lies in meek resting on the law of God,?And in that wise humility which pleads?Ever for his guardian watch and Government,?Though men may bear the open signs of rule.?Humility is safety! could men learn?The law, "ne sutor ultra crepidam,"?And the sagacious cobbler, at his last,?Content himself with paring leather down?To heel and instep, nicely fitting parts,?In proper adaptation, to the foot,?We might have safety.
Rightly to conceive?What's right, and limit the o'erreaching will?To this one measure only, is the whole?Of that grand rule, and wise necessity,?Which only gives us safety.
Where a State,?Or blended States, or peoples, pass the bounds?Set for their progress, they must topple and fall?Into that gulf of ruin which has swallowed?All ancient Empires, States, Republics; all?Perishing, in like manner, from the selfsame cause!?The terrible conjunction of the event,?Close with the provocation, stands apart,?A social beacon in all histories;?And yet we take no heed, but still rush on,?Under mixed sway of greed and vanity,?And like the silly boy with his card-castle,?Precipitate to ruin as we build.
The Voice of the South.
Tyrt?us.--_Charleston Mercury._
'Twas a goodly boon that our fathers gave,?And fits but ill to be held by the slave;?And sad were the thought, if one of our band?Should give up the hope of so fair a land.
But the hour has come, and the times that tried?The souls of men in our days of pride,?Return once more, and now for the brave,?To merit the boon which our fathers gave.
And if there be one base spirit who stands?Now, in our peril, with folded hands,?Let his grave at once in the soil be wrought,?With the sword with which his old father fought.
An oath sublime should the freeman take,?Still braving the fight and the felon stake,--?The oath that his sires brought over the sea,?When they pledged their swords to Liberty!
'Twas a goodly oath, and In Heaven's own sight,?They battled and bled in behalf of the right;?'Twas hallowed by God with the holiest sign,?And seal'd with the blood of your sires and mine.
We cannot forget, and we dare not forego,?The holy duty to them that we owe,?The duty that pledges the soul of the son?To