Now, then, your eyes begin to brighten, And marvellous theories to flow; A philosophic theme you light on, And, spurred and booted, off you go! If e’er—to drive Apollo’s phaeton— I need an earthly charioteer, This tall-browed genius I will wait on, And prime him first with Lager Bier. But higher yet, in middle Heaven, Your steed seems taking flight, my friend; You read the secret of the Seven, And on through trackless regions wend! Don’t vanish in the Milky Way, for This afternoon you’re wanted here; Come back! come back! and help me pay for The bread and cheese and Lager Bier. HOW OLD BROWN TOOK HARPER’S FERRY. John Brown in Kansas settled, like a steadfast Yankee farmer, Brave and godly, with four sons, all stalwart men of might. There he spoke aloud for freedom, and the Border-strife grew warmer, Till the Rangers fired his dwelling, in his absence, in the night; And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Came homeward in the morning—to find his house burned down. Then he grasped his trusty rifle and boldly fought for freedom; Smote from border unto border the fierce, invading band; And he and his brave boys vowed—so might Heaven help and speed ’em!— They would save those grand old prairies from the curse that blights the land; And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Said, “Boys, the Lord will aid us!” and he shoved his ramrod down. And the Lord _did_ aid these men, and they labored day and even, Saving Kansas from its peril; and their very lives seemed charmed, Till the ruffians killed one son, in the blessed light of Heaven,— In cold blood the fellows slew him, as he journeyed all unarmed; Then Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Shed not a tear, but shut his teeth, and frowned a terrible frown! Then they seized another brave boy,—not amid the heat of battle, But in peace, behind his ploughshare,—and they loaded him with chains, And with pikes, before their horses, even as they goad their cattle, Drove him cruelly, for their sport, and at last blew out his brains; Then Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Raised his right hand up to Heaven, calling Heaven’s vengeance down. And he swore a fearful oath, by the name of the Almighty, He would hunt this ravening evil that had scathed and torn him so; He would seize it by the vitals; he would crush it day and night; he Would so pursue its footsteps, so return it blow for blow, That Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, Should be a name to swear by, in backwoods or in town!