Then shout beside thine Oak, O North!
O South! wave answer with thy Palm;
And in our Union's heritage
Together sing the Nation's Psalm!
W. R. Wallace.
CCCXXXVII.
THE FISHERMAN OF BEAUFORT.
The tide comes up, and the tide goes down,
And still the fisherman's boat,
At early dawn and at evening shade,
Is ever and ever afloat:
His net goes down, and his net comes up,
And we hear his song of glee:
"De fishes dey hates de ole slave nets,
But comes to de nets of de free."
The tide comes up, and the tide goes down,
And the oysterman below
Is picking away, in the slimy sands,
In the sands ob de long ago.
But now if an empty hand he bears,
He shudders no more with fear,
There's no stretching-board for the aching bones,
And no lash of the overseer.
The tide comes up, and the tide goes down,
And ever I hear a song,
As the moaning winds, through the moss-hung oaks,
Sweep surging ever along:
"O massa white man! help de slave,
And de wife and chillen too;
Eber dey'll work, wid de hard worn hand
Ef ell gib 'em de work to do."
The tide comes up, and the tide goes go down,
But it bides no tyrant's word,
As it chants unceasing the anthem grand,
Of its Freedom to the Lord.
The fisherman floating on its breast
Has caught up the key-note true:
"De sea works, mass, for 't sef and God,
And so must de brack man too."
"Den gib him de work, and gib him de pay,
For de chillen and wife him love;
And de yam shall grow, and de cotton shall blow,
And him nearer, nebber rove;
For him love de ole Carlina State,
And de ole magnolia-tree:
Oh! nebber him trouble de icy Norf,
Ef de brack folks am go free."
Mrs. F. D. Gage.