And when in terror thou shalt hear
Thy murderous deeds of vengeance cry
And feel the weight of thy great crime,
Then fall upon thy sword and die.
Those aged locks I'll not reproach,
Although upon a traitor's brow;
We've looked with reverence on them once,
We'll try and not revile them now.
But her true sons and daughters pray,
That ere thy day of reckoning be,
Thy ingrate heart may feel the pain
To know thy mother once more free.
Coercion: A Poem for Then and Now.
By John R. Thompson, of Virginia.
Who talks of coercion? who dares to deny
A resolute people the right to be free?
Let him blot out forever one star from the sky,
Or curb with his fetter the wave of the sea!
Who prates of coercion? Can love be restored
To bosoms where only resentment may dwell?
Can peace upon earth be proclaimed by the sword,
Or good-will among men be established by shell?
Shame! shame!--that the statesman and trickster, forsooth,
Should have for a crisis no other recourse,
Beneath the fair day-spring of light and of truth,
Than the old brutum fulmen of tyranny--force!
From the holes where fraud, falsehood, and hate slink away--
From the crypt in which error lies buried in chains--
This foul apparition stalks forth to the day,
And would ravage the land which his presence profanes.
Could you conquer us, men of the North--could you bring
Desolation and death on our homes as a flood--
Can you hope the pure lily, affection, will spring
From ashes all reeking and sodden with blood?