ILLINOIS TO GEN. GRANT AND HIS COMRADES.
(In the Great Hall of the Sanitary Fair, Chicago.)
Illustrious heroes! welcome all!
Thrice welcome to this princely hall!
With bounding pulse and hearts elate,
We hail your presence in our State,—
The prairie State, whose sons admire
The leader’s worth, the soldiers’ fire;
Whose daughters with unwearied zeal
Our wounded heroes nurse and heal;
Whose gifted bards can celebrate
Those deeds which make her proud and great:
In her behalf, with hearty cheer,
The Garden City greets you here.
And, Grant, fit representative
Of all that Liberty can give;
Her guardian in the tented field,
The people’s strength, the country’s shield,
Thrice welcome to thy Western home!
Our hearts are glad that thou art come.
In thee we take a noble pride;
Fain would we have thee here abide,
Until the people call thee hence,
To be their bulwark and defense
In peaceful cares, as thou hast been
In many a well-fought battle scene.
Thus coupled with thy conquering name
May our great country shine in fame;
May every grov’ling passion fly
With violence and tyranny;
Thus may the glorious reign commence
Of virtue and intelligence;
Thus may our land at length become
Of brave and free the undoubted home:
Then would thy brightness shed a ray
To cheer the wanderer on his way;
Then would thy cheering smile illume
The lettered delver’s deep’ning gloom,
And give to learning, genius, art,
The sunshine of one patriot heart;
The soldier’s generous influence lend,
And be henceforth the poet’s friend!
So may green bays adorn thy brow,
As thy fresh laurels grace thee now;
So may all men, both East and West,
Rise up and hail thee “wisest, best;”
So may the North and South unite,
To crown thee first in peace and right,
As all mankind, both near and far,
E’en now, proclaim thee first in war!
And next, ye generous hearts who shared
Your chieftain’s toils, and nobly dared;
Brave Sherman, Sheridan, and all
Whom we true patriots can call;
All you who volunteered your aid
When danger every heart dismayed;
Who noble deeds have dared to write
In lasting colors, “black and white,”
On march, in battlefield, or camp,
By sea or river-margin damp,
Or where our mailed “web-feet” could wade
To point a gun or wield a blade;
To you, our well-tried Union friends,
Our hospitable State extends
A standing invitation meet,
Such welcome as such men should greet;
To you she shall be doubly bound,
If oft her guests ye shall be found.
And, when your warlike duties cease,
Resume the nobler arms of peace;
Assist your chief to stem the tide
Of envy, hatred, malice, pride;
And as before with common mind
You all against the foe combined;
So now, against home foes unite,
Nor pause ’till you have won the fight.
The rubbish cleared, the rock made bare,
Build up the enduring temple there;
On which the thunder, hail, and rain,
And wind shall howl and beat in vain;
Then every shock it will withstand,
Because ’twill not be built on sand!
And now we pray, may Heaven preserve
Your lives, your country long to serve
With patriotic hands and hearts,
In social life and peaceful arts!
So that when death shall come at last,
You each may look upon the past
With satisfaction, and exclaim;
“My country will preserve my fame:”
And men shall say your deeds who scan;
“Each died, as he had lived,—a man.”
Thus universal joy and light
Pervade our land late sunk in night;
The clouds of grief have passed away;
The dawn gives promise of the day;
And hope, the polar star of life,
Succeeds to discord, gloom and strife.
The people count on happy years,
To compensate for blood and tears.
But ah! how brief is human joy;
What bliss is free from base alloy!
Some note with its discordant jar
The purest harmony will mar.
The “wires” convey a rumor dread,
That Lincoln, our great chief, is dead!
Yes, murdered by the assassin’s hand,
While joy pervaded all the land;
When victory had crowned our arms,
And freed us from war’s dread alarms;
And men would Sumter’s flag restore,
As it had been in days of yore;
And cause its folds once more to wave
Where vile Secession found its grave;
When Lincoln, freed from carking care,
Some leisure hours might hope to share;
To realise fair freedom’s cause,
And taste its fruits—a just applause;—
It cannot be!—’tis but a dream,
To cloud bright hope’s translucent beam!
An effort vain to turn aside
Attention from fair pleasure’s tide!—
Let joy abound! we cannot stay
The car triumphal on its way.
But hark, once more, that dreadful knell
That haunts us like a weird spell!
A dismal sound like stifled sigh,
That rises to a wail or cry!
Dread rumor spreading as she springs,
Sheds poison from her baleful wings,
Infecting mortals as she goes,
And stirring up their fount of woes.
Alas! our Lincoln is no more;
His loss the nation must deplore!
And lo! she robes herself in weeds,
While her great heart within her bleeds;
And hark the people’s doleful strain
For their great Chief untimely slain!