O, ye freed people! Scarce had the name of _Fillmore_ Traced its guilty lines upon the page Of that most consummate act Of cruelty, When a hundred guns from Boston's classic heights Belched forth their teeming fire In ratification Of the great treaty of blood! Like a ponderous knell! Their jarring sound boomed out your death cry, Upon the soul of Sumner! And all the night, of that most lurid day, Alone with his God. His fast retreating and coming footsteps Made his silent chamber eloquent with his agony. And kept their mournful rhythm With the throes of his soul! This true man Who stood up in your midst Like a pillar of light! Endowed with power to emit a radiance All its own! When friend and foe alike Refusing the succor and protection Of a common humanity; Would force back the hapless, Fugitive slave To the hell of slavery; "_Thus openly_ DEFYING _Every sentiment of justice, humanity and christian duty._" Leaving to coming generations A record of human wrongs, "_Amongst the crimes of history, another Is about to be recorded, Which no tears can blot out!_" Said the upright statesman. As he stood Amidst the surging tide Of calumny and misconception, Bearing up Against the pressure of the waves of "caste." His solemn words echoing through the senate: "_By the supreme law Which commands me to do justice; By the comprehensive And conscientious law Of brotherhood; By the constitution I have sworn to support, I am bound to disobey this act! And never, In any circumstance, can I render voluntary aid to it! Pains and penalties I will endure! This great wrong I will not do. Better be the victim, Than the instrument of wrong!_"