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THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION.
97
No lance has bleeding Freedom hurled—her life-long war to close?
Has Power yet leave to walk the world and rend each wayside rose?"
Has Power yet leave to walk the world and rend each wayside rose?"
"I stood on proud Columbia's strand—where Night her stars had left—
And near and far I saw the land incarnadined and cleft:
There ghoulish War's insatiate fire his feast of horror signed,
And swept its forked flames ever higher the heavenward gaze to blind.
And near and far I saw the land incarnadined and cleft:
There ghoulish War's insatiate fire his feast of horror signed,
And swept its forked flames ever higher the heavenward gaze to blind.
"The nation's brimmed communion-cup had spilled its holy wine;
The slave his sad eyes lifted up, still gyved at Belial's shrine;
Pale under Treason's upas-shade, Truth, worn and fainting, lay;
And Europe paused, with half-drawn blade, as one who pants to slay.
The slave his sad eyes lifted up, still gyved at Belial's shrine;
Pale under Treason's upas-shade, Truth, worn and fainting, lay;
And Europe paused, with half-drawn blade, as one who pants to slay.
"I saw, and thrilled the Ruler's heart—I nerved the Ruler's hand;
And lo! he rent the gyves apart, on fair Columbia's strand!
And lo! he rent the gyves apart, on fair Columbia's strand!
