Fair work for fair wages! we hope nothing else
Of the mill, or the forge, or the soil,
For the rich man who buys, and the poor man who sells, Must pay and be paid for his toil!
Fair work for fair wages,
Is just between master and man:
If the tables were turned we would serve him the same,
And promise we will when we can!
We give to him industry, muscles, and thews
And heartily work for his wealth,
So he will as honestly yield us our dues,
Good wages for labor in health!
Enough for the day, and a bit to put by
Against illness, and slackness, and age;
For change and misfortune are ever too nigh
Alike to the fool and the sage:
But the fool in his harvest will wanton and waste,
Forgetting the winter once more,
While true British wisdom will timely make haste,
And save for the "basket and store!"
Aye; wantonness freezes to want, be assured,
And drinking makes nothing to eat,
And penury's wasting by waste is secured,
And luxury starves in the street!
And many a father with little ones pale,
So racked by his cares and his pains,
Might now be all right, if, when hearty and hale,
He never had squandered his gains!
We know that prosperity's glittering sun
Can shine but a little, and then
The harvest is over, the summer is done,
Alike for the master and men:
If the factory ship with its Captain on board
Must beat in adversity's waves,
One lot is for all! for the great cotton lord
And the poorest of Commerce's slaves.
One lot! if extravagance reigned in the home,
Then poverty's wormwood and gall;
If rational foresight of evils to come,
A cheerful complacence in all:
For sweet is the morsel that diligence earned,
And sweeter, that prudence put by;
And lessons of peace in affliction are learned,
And wisdom that comes from on high!
For GOD in his providence ruling above,
And piloting all things below,
Is ever unchangeable justice and love
In ordering welfare or woe:
He blesses the prudent for heaven and earth,
And gladdens the good at all times,
But frowns on the sinner, and darkens his mirth,
And lashes his follies and crimes!
Yet, — GOD shall reward in a happier life
Their punishment, patience, and prayer! But woe to the catiff, who, starved by his drinks, Was starving his children as well,
O Man! break away from the treacherous links Of a chain that will drag you to hell!
Come along, come along, man! it's never too late,
Though drowning, we throw you a rope!
But quick and be quit of so fearful a fate,
For while there is life there is hope!
So wisely come with us, and work like the rest,
And save of your pay while you can;
And heaven will bless you for doing your best,
And helping yourself like a man!
For Labor is riches, and Labor is health,
And Labor is duty on earth,
And never was honor, or wisdom, or wealth,
But Labor has been at its birth!
in his father, his friend, or himself,
By head or by hand must have toiled,
And the brow that is canopied over with pelf,
By Labor's own sweat has been soiled!
AN OFF-HAND ANSWER TO THE QUESTION.
No jingler of rhymes, and no mingler of phrases,
No tuner of times, and no pruner of daisies,
No lullaby lyrist with nothing to say,
No small sentimentalist fainting away,
No Ardert of albums, no trifling Tyrtæus,
No bilious misanthrope loathing to see us,
No gradus-and-prosody maker of verses,
No Hector of tragedy vaporing curses, -
In a word - not a bad one-no mere "poetaster,"
The monkey that follows some troubadour master,
And filching from Tennyson, Shelley, or Keats,
With cunning mosaic his coterie cheats
Into voting the poor petty-larceny fool,
A charming disciple of Wordsworth's sweet school!
Not a bit of it! - Pilferers, duncy and dreary;
Human society's utterly weary
Of gilt insincerities hopping in verse,
And stately hexameters plumed like a hearse,
And second-hand sentiment sugared with ice,
And a third course of passions, warmed up very nice, And peaches of wax, and your sham wooden pine,
The fitting dessert of a feast so divine!
With musical lies, and mechanical stuff,
The verse-ridden world has been pestered enough;
And yet in its heart, if unsmothered by words,
It still can respond, from its innermost chords,
To generous, truthful, melodious Sense,
To beautiful language and feelings intense,
To human affection sincerely poured out,
To Eloquence, -tagged with a rhyme, or without,
To anything tasteful, and hearty, and true,
Delicate, graceful, and noble, and new.
Aye, find me the man, or the woman,
or child,
Though modest yet bold, and though spirited, mild,
With a mind that can think, and a heart that can feel,
And the tongue and the pen that are skilled to reveal,
And the eye that hath wept, and the hand that will aid,
And the brow that in peril was never afraid, -
With courage to dare, and with keenness to plan,
And tact to declare what is pleasant to Man,
While guiding, and teaching, and training his mind,
While spurring the lazy, and leading the blind,
With pureness in youth, and religion in age,
And cordial affections 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!
"YE THIRTY NOBLE NATIONS."
A NEW BALLAD то COLUMBIA.
YE Thirty noble nations
Confederate in One!
That keep your starry stations
Around the Western Sun-
I have a glorious mission,
And must obey the call-
A claim! and a petition!
To set before you all.
Away with party blindness,
Away with petty spite!
My Claim is one of Kindness,
My Prayer is one of Right:
And while in grace ye listen
For tenderness, I know
Your eyes shall dim and glisten,
Your hearts shall thrill and glow!
For, on those hearts is written
The spirit of my song,
I claim your love for Britain,
In spite of every wrong!
I claim it for your mother,
Your sister, and your spouse,
Your father, friend, and brother,
The "Hector of your vows!"
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