The Poet haunts there: Youth that ne'er grows oldĭwells with her and her flowers and Beauty sleepsīETWEEN MR. He who casts himselfĭrinks from a fountain that is never dry. Unto the forests and the ambrosial fields:Ĭommerce with them and with the eternal sky.ĭespair not, fellow. Tastes the mad weed, and plots and schemes,Īrt sick?-art sad?-art angry with the world?ĭo all friends fail thee? Why, then, give thyself The bay of blood-hounds Northward setting Regard their spindles and their spinners. Sits choosing from some Caliph's daughters,ĭrinks tokay, and blasphemes the Prophet. ![]() Which rolled from granite hills and mountain green. Just then, an avalanche of indignation fell I would enslave Nebraska, and New Hampshire too,Īnd be a slave myself, to prove my loyalty.' I do recant the ]soft] things I have said,Īnd promise to be ]hard] forevermore. ![]() 'Not I, but Marcy, cut off Bronson's head PIERCE left the chair he could not fill, and said: Spurn Northern measures, and cut Northern men,Īnd cleave the saucy cap which crowns her head.' Now I will steal Nebraska from the North, 'Sanhedrim of the South! once more I bid Just then the petit prodigy came forth again: I've washed the free-soil from my hard white hands, Then Caleb, long in search of honor, came: Who break their chains, and fly for liberty.' Whose freedom I have not the power to steal 'I'll frame a black law for my noble State,Īnd drive the negroes into Slavery's net,Īnd snatch the property from every black, My ]letter] is a pledge of true fidelity.' Pray let me have the throne of this republic now. 'I've done ]hard] service for my country's sake 'In camp, in court, at home, abroad,' said he, He praised the Nuncio of the Pope of Rome,Īnd promised to give all the South would ask, The growth of years, the hardest of the hards,Īlthough his full-orbed face was soft as dough. Whose skin was like an alligator's shell, Next came a wheezing, pot-faced, burly man, Not that he looked for Jesus' image there,Īnd mocked, and crowned with thorns, and crucified. Upon the scarred and furrowed backs of slaves.' My 'giant' arms have torn parent from child,Īnd with the gory lash my hands have writ ![]() Of father, mother, husband, child, and wife 'I bought a Southern farm with negroes stocked,Īnd made my mark upon the quivering flesh With crimson ink let me record his speech:. Like a dull morning on the back of night,Ĭlimbed on the shoulders of a sturdy slave. Scarce had the words died on the speaker's lip, 'Now, gentlemen, what will you give the South,Ĭan purchase it by bidding quick and high.'
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