Above this portal shall no monarch thunder,
No grand patrician lord it o'er a slave;
Here shall the pagan's bonds be snapt asunder,
And creed and race no proud distinction crave;
Here shall mankind their shackles trample under,
And freedom's banner over freemen wave!
Here shall Confucius braid his ebon tresses,
Perfume the cup with aromatic teas,
Supply gay beauty with her gaudiest dresses,—
The worm's fine fabric, and the Bactrian fleece;
And in exchange shall quaff a balm that blesses,
Freedom and truth, in every passing breeze!
Here Kamehameha realize the splendor
Foretold by sirens, singing 'round his isles,
How cane and pulu be the realm's defender,
And roof his palaces with golden tiles;—
When sturdy Saxons should their hearts surrender
In captive bonds to coy Kanaka wiles!
Here Petropaulowski store her richest sables,
Tahiti waft her oranges and limes,
The Lascar weave his stout manila cables,
The Malay chafler midst his porcelain chimes,
Ceylon with spices scent our groaning tables,
Pariah bring Golconda's gems, not crimes;
Beneath this dome the Tycoon's gory dragon
Shall fold his wings, and close his fiery eyes;
Here quaffing from the same enchanted flagon,
Fraternal incense shall to Heaven arise;
Whilst Vishnu, Thor, Jehovah, Bhudd, and Dagon,
Shall cease all strife, and struggle for the prize!
Oh! tell me not the Christian's God will thunder,
And rock these hills, with unforgiving ire;
By storm or earthquake rend the globe asunder,
And quench His wrath in everliving fire—
When He beholds on earth so strange a wonder,
All peoples kneeling to a common Sire!
Prophets and priests have from primeval ages
Drenched all mankind in seas of human gore;
Jurists and statesmen, orators and sages,
Have deepened gulfs, which boundless were before;
The merchant sails, where'er an ocean rages,
Bridges its depths, and throws the Rainbow o'er!
All hail! ye founders of Pacific's glory,
Who serve bold Commerce at his mightiest shrine:
Your names shall live in endless song and story,
When black Oblivion flings her pall o'er mine;
And when these walls shall totter, quaint and hoary,
Bards still shall sing, your mission was Divine!
