Or that, like Rachel of old, with her desolate lot, She refuses all comfort because they are not: She weeps for the thousands led out to the slaughter, Whose life-blood hath flowed as a fountain of water. "What tho' the base cohorts of treason are routed? "What tho' the false claims of disunion are scouted? "My brothers, my kinsmen, oh, where have they fled?" Thus the maiden forlorn vents her grief for the dead. Lift thy head, thou fair Goddess of Liberty! See! The Temple is saved by the _blood_ of the Free! And sanctified over, a thousand times more, With the blood-sprinkled Seal on the posts of the door-- A sweet-smelling savor of incense divine, For the Holy of Holies, the Patriot's shrine. Now draw the rich nourishment freely, sweet maid! Immense as the cost is, do not be afraid; The stream inexhaustible, now, at thy will, Shall flow like a river, the Temple to fill, And the world shall acknowledge that Freemen can keep, With dignified firmness, the harvest they reap! [Illustration: 026] |The wonder is, not that he's tattered and torn-- That his garments are faded, and ragged, and worn-- That his features are bronzed, and his visage is marred-- That his limbs are all bruised, and his body all scarred; The wonder is, how, in such terrible strife, He has struggled so nobly and come out with life. But the heaven-born instinct that nerved his brave spirit A Temple to build, for the Free to inherit, Inspired him with courage, enduring and true, That Temple to save and its foes to subdue; And he vowed that his work forever should be Preserved and respected, blest, happy, and free! At the cost of much blood, and his doublet and hose, (For a man is a _man_, in despite of torn clothes,) Jack has labored, and suffered, by day and by night, For he knew that his cause was just, holy, and right: The Goddess of Liberty smiled through her tears, As her brave-hearted champion so war-worn appears; And with mingled emotions of sadness and bliss, She embraced her young Hero, and--gave him a kiss! [Illustration: 028] |He comes, and his advent betokens the fate That Despots and Tyrants all trembling await. He comes! and the clank of the chains as they fall From the captive, proclaim him the Savior of all! He comes! and the doors of the prison fly open, And the bond are set free by the word he hath spoken! He comes! and before him all darkness and night Flee away at his presence! for He _is_ the Light! The altar is raised, and the priest is at hand, All shaven and shorn, at the altar to stand; And now, through the land, the whole nation rejoices; As the sound of great waters they lift up their voices! A marriage! a marriage! a wedding so rare The world never saw; and such a glorious pair! No emperor or king--no hero of old, Though decked in the treasures of purple and gold, Could compare in his royalty, splendor and pride, To the patriot Workingman claiming his bride.