This digitization project was supported by Regional Bibliographic Databases and Interlibrary Resources Sharing Program funds, awarded by the New York State Library.
This digitized edition is part of Syracuse University Library's Gerrit Smith Broadside and Pamphlet Collection. It has been OCRed using OmniPage Pro, version 11 by Scansoft® and proofed using WordPerfect version 9. The following layout changes have been made:
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- Text unreadable in the original document is noted in brackets as [unreadable]
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Peter D. Verheyen, Project Manager
Debra G. Olson, Digital Project Assistant
Special Collections Research Center
Syracuse University Library
© 2003 This work is the property of the Syracuse University Library. It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.
[col. 1]
1 Here, where young Summer weaves
A screen of tender leaves,
Over thy grave,
And the wood-robin's wing
Around is fluttering,
Thy requiem we sing,
Friend of the slave!
2 Here, in this leafy aisle,
A monumental pile
To thee we rear;
That strangers as they're led
These shady paths to tread,
[col. 2]
May linger by the bed,
And drop a tear.
3 Why, brother, should we mourn?
Long hadst thou bravely borne
A false world's frown: -
Yet He, for whose dear sake,
Thou didst that burden take,
Well knowest how to make
Thy cross, thy crown.
4 How glowed thy lips, - thy pen
When for thy fellow men,
For e'en the thrall,
[col. 3]
Thy spirit dared to be
With God's own freedom free,
And publish His decree,
"FREEDOM FOR ALL!"
5 Tears - manly tears - will yet
These cold mute marbles wet,
Servant of God,
And clouds, in mourning drest,
Low trailing from the west,
And stars, that watch thy rest,
Bedew thy sod.
[end col.]
[col. 1]
MYRON HOLLEY.
Yes - fame is his: - but not the fame
For which the conqueror pants and strives,
Whose path is tracked through blood and flame,
And over countless human lives!
His name no armed battalions hail
With bugle-shriek or thundering gun -
No widows curse him, as they wail
For slaughtered husband and for son.
Amid the moral strife alone,
He battled fearlessly and long,
And poured, with clear, untrembling tone,
Rebuke upon the hosts of Wrong -
To break Oppression's cruel rod,
[col. 2]
He dared the perils of the fight,
And in the name of FREEDOM'S GOD
Struck boldly for the TRUE AND RIGHT!
With faith, whose eye was never dim,
The triumph, yet afar, he saw,
When, bonds smote off from soul and limb,
And freed alike by Love and Law,
The slave - no more a slave - shall stand
Erect - and loud, from sea to sea,
Exultant burst o'er all the land
The glorious song of jubilee!
Why should we mourn, thy labor done,
That thou art called thy reward ?
[col. 3]
Rest, Freedom's war-torn champion?
Rest, faithful soldier of the LORD!
For oh, not vainly hast thou striven,
Through storm, and gloom, and deepest night -
Not vainly hath thy life been given
For GOD, for FREEDOM, and the RIGHT?
Then, as we stand around thy grave,
The solemn pledge let all renew,
Like thee to toil our land to save
From the dark vengeance which is due -
So haply, shall the LORD restrain
The gathered wrath that waits to break,
Or dash it on the bondman's chain,
And spare us for his mercy's sake!
[end col.]
Air - Balerma.
[col. 1]
There is a land of pure delight
Where saints immortal reign,
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
There everlasting spring abides,
And never with'ring flow'rs:
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heav'nly land from ours.
[col. 2]
Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand drest in living green:
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan roll'd between.
But tim'rous mortals start and shrink,
To cross this narrow sea,
And linger, shiv'ring on the brink,
And fear to launch away.
[col. 3]
Oh! Could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love,
With unbeclouded eyes.
Could we but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er,
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,
Should fright us from the shore.
[end col.]
E. Shepard, Book & Job Printer, Rochester.
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