Britain to Columbia.
A MESSAGE OF PEACE.
Sister Empress, Daughter dear,
Throned on yonder hemisphere,
With a grand career to run
Glorious as thy western sun,
Sister, daughter,-we are one!
One, in stories of the past,
One, in glories, still to last,
One in speech, and one in face,
One in honest pride of race,
One in faith, and hope, and grace!
Sister, we have sinn'd of old,
Both of us, through lust of gold;
We, for centuries,—you, for years,
Undismay'd by judgment fears,
Throve on-human woes and tears!
Verily our brother's blood
Whelm'd us in its crimson flood;
Yet, at last, we turn'd, and gave
As a ransom from the grave,
Royal freedom to the slave!
Britain's penitential zeal
Let it work Columbia's weal;
Wisely hasten, as thou wilt,
Soon to wash away this guilt
Man enchain'd, and life-blood spilt!
We are mute, we may not chide;
Only pray thee, put aside
That which must be bane to thee,
If, as Christian, Strong, and Free,
Thou endure it still to be!
Yet, in frankness, we confess
We made too much haste to bless;
Not at once, be well assured,
But with gradual health allured,
Can this chronic plague be cured.
Through the wisdom of to-day
We have learnt a better way;
Sister, it is thine own plan!
Take the poor degraded man,
Teach him kindly all you can,—
Then, with liberal hand restore
To his own Liberian shore
This poor son of wrong and night,
Newly blest with hope and light,
And the patriot freeman's right!
So shall Africa blockade
Bloodlessly that dreadful trade;
And Liberia's "open door"
School, and Church, and merchant-store,
Bless her children evermore!
Columbia, child of Britain,-noblest child!
I praise the growing lustre of thy worth,
And fain would see thy great heart reconciled
To love the mother of so blest a birth:
For we are one, Columbia! still the same
In lineage, language, laws, and ancient fame,
The natural nobility of earth:
Yes, we are one; the glorious days of yore
When dear old England earn'd her storied name,
Are thine as well as ours for evermore;
And thou hast rights in Milton, ev'n as we,
Thou too canst claim "sweet Shakspeare's wood-notes wild,"
And chiefest, brother, we are both made free Of one Religion, pure and undefiled!
I BLAME thee not, as other some have blamed,-
The highborn heir had grown to man's estate;
I mock thee not as some who should be shamed,
Nor ferret out thy faults with envious hate;
Far otherwise, by generous love inflamed,
Patriot I praise my country's foreign Son,
Rejoicing in the blaze of good and great
That diadems thy head!-go on, go on,
Young Hercules, thus travelling in might,
Boy-Plato, filling all the West with light,
Thou new Themistocles for enterprise
Go on and prosper, Acolyte of fate!
And, precious child, dear Ephraim, turn those eyes,For thee thy Mother's yearning heart doth wait.
LET aged Britain claim the classic Past,
A shining track of bright and mighty deeds, For thee I prophecy the Future vast
Whereof the Present sows its giant seeds :
Corruption and decay come thick and fast
O'er poor old England; yet a few dark years,
And we must die as nations died of yore!
But, in the millions of thy teeming shore-
Thy patriots, sages, warriors, saints, and seers-
We live again, Columbia! yea, once more
Unto a thousand generations live,
The mother in the child; to all the West
Through Thee shall We earth's choicest blessings give, Ev'n as our Orient world in Us is blest.
THOU noble scion of an ancient root,
Born of the forest-king! spread forth, spread forth,— High to the stars thy tender leaflets shoot, Deep dig thy fibres round the ribs of earth : From sea to sea, from South to icy North,
It must ere long be thine, through good or ill,
To stretch thy sinewy boughs: Go,-wondrous child!
The glories of thy destiny fulfil ;-
Remember then thy mother in her age,
Shelter her in the tempest, warring wild,
Stand thou with us when all the nations rage
So furiously together!-we are one:
And, through all time, the calm historic page
Shall tell of Britain blest in thee her son!
A WORD TO A GREAT NATION.
Steady, steady, gallant vessel!
Hard a-port-obey the helm-
Lest the breakers round thee wrestle,
Lest the billows overwhelm;
Though so pleasant just at present
Be the voyage thou hast sped,
There is peril, stark and sterile,
Look you! in the rocks ahead!
See that license of opinion
Stifle not zeal's holy flame,
Till Religion's pure dominion
Dwindle feebly to a name;
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