And cordial affection at every stage,—

The harp of this woman, this man, or this youth, By genius well strung, and made tuneful by truth, Shall charm and shall ravish the world at its will, And make its old heart yet tremble and thrill, While all men shall own it and feel it and know it Gladly and gratefully,-Here is the Poet!

MAN'S CRUELTY TO HIS BROTHER.

I.

MAN'S inhumanity to Man!

Oh hideous tale to tell,—

What cheek unblanch'd can calmly scan

Those characters of hell?

What pen, what poet, dares to paint

The terrors of that strife,

Wherein so many a martyr'd saint
Has moan'd away his life?

II.

O Roman friars,-Spanish priests,
Ye wretched cruel men,
More bloody than infuriate beasts
Half-famish'd in their den,-

How dreadful are the human woes

Your secret vaults have seen,—
GOD's patient vengeance only knows
What horrors there have been!

MAN'S CRUELTY TO HIS BROTHER.

323

III.

And, Slavery human nature's shame,

The curse of human-kind,

How hateful is thy very name
To ear, and heart, and mind!
The sugar-mill, the cotton-field,

The lash, the goad, the chain,-
Alas! how huge a crop they yield
Of wickedness and pain!

IV.

And, here at home, let childhood's shriek,

On coalpit echoes borne,

And starving woman's hollow cheek

In city streets forlorn,

And mean oppression's heavy hand

On patient merit's head,

Ask everywhere throughout the land,
-Whither has Mercy fled?

V.

Yet is there comfort: GOD above

Long-suffering doth not sleep;

He treasures up with tenderest love
The tears of those who weep;
Holy, and Merciful, and Strong,
Be sure, His glorious Might
For all oppression, pain, and wrong
Will righteously requite!

VI.

And there is comfort: victim soul,
Go straight before that Judge;
With pitying care to hear the whole
His patience will not grudge ;
So, out of harm, and hate, and pain,
If thou but kiss the rod,
Thou shalt attain the golden gain
Of Brotherhood with GOD!

MAN'S CRUELTY TO HIS BEAST.

I.

MAN'S cruel baseness to his beast!

-Poor uncomplaining brute, Its wrongs are innocent at least, And all its sorrows mute:

They cannot have deserved their woes, As these bad masters can;

And evil is the lot of those

Who serve the tyrant, Man.

II.

I dare not let my fever'd thought
Brood o'er the frightful page

By human malice writ and wrought
In every clime and age!

MAN'S CRUELTY TO HIS BEAST.

325

Alas! the catalogue of crime

Begun by cruel Cain

Has made the swollen stream of Time

One cataract of pain!

III.

Lo! surgery's philosophic knife,
Too merciless to kill,

Dissecting out the strings of life
With calm and horrid skill,-

And bloody goads,—and wealing whips,
And many a torture fell,

Have wrung from every creature's lips

That Earth to them is Hell!

IV.

Yea dream not that the Good and Wise

To these can be unjust;

Nor, if not claimants for the skies,

That all dissolve to dust:

They have a spirit which survives

This caldron of unrest,

And here though wretched in their lives,
Elsewhere they shall be blest!

V.

In the just Government and strong

Of such a GOD as ours,

Only for wickedness and wrong
Perpetual Judgment lours:

No creature ever ran a race

Of griefs not earn'd before, Without some compensating grace

Of happiness in store!

VI.

Let this, then, comfort those who weep
For Crime and Pity too;

For if just judgment doth not sleep,
No-more doth mercy true:

The cruel Man,-lament his fate,
For he can reach no bliss ;-
The tortured beast,-its future state
Shall recompense for this.

HOPE.

I.

HOPE is the Sailor

On every sea,—

Never a failer

Nor falterer he!

Tho' the waves rise up

Tho' the skies fall,

Hope ever flies up

High over all!