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'Like the herdsmen of Tekoa, in Israel of old,

Let all dear hearts with me rejoice, as did the saints of old,

Shall we see the poor and righteous again When of the Lord's good angel the rescued

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No trains of deep-mouthed cannon along our highways go;

Around our silent arsenals untrodden lies the snow;

1 Written on reading an account of the proceedings of the citizens of Norfolk, Va., in reference to George Latimer, the alleged fugitive slave, who was seized in Boston without warrant at the request of James B. Grey, of Norfolk, claiming to be his master. The case caused great excitement North and South, and led to the presentation of a petition to Congress, signed by more than fifty thousand citizens of Massachusetts, calling for such laws and proposed amendments to the Constitution as should relieve the Commonwealth from all further participation in the crime of oppression. George Latimer himself was finally given free papers for the sum of four hundred dollars. (WHITTIER.)

When the excitement was at its height, conventions were held simultaneously in every county in Massachusetts, and this poem was read at the Essex County convention. The most intense enthusiasm was aroused by those stanzas in which all the counties of the State speak successively, each in its own character.

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THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE1

A CHRISTIAN! going, gone! Who bids for God's own image? for his grace,

Which that poor victim of the market-place Hath in her suffering won?

1 In a publication of L. F. Tasistro, Random Shots and Southern Breezes, is a description of a slave auction at New Orleans, at which the auctioneer recommended the woman on the stand as 'A GOOD CHRISTIAN!' It was not uncommon to see advertisements of slaves for sale, in which they were described as pious or as members of the church. In one advertisement a slave was noted as a Baptist preacher.' (WHITTIER.)

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On thee, their pampered guest, the planters smile,

Thy church shall praise.

Grave, reverend men shall tell

From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest,

1 There was at the time when this poem was written an Association in Liberty County, Georgia, for the religious instruction of negroes. One of their annual reports contains an address by the Rev. Josiah Spry Law, in which the following passage occurs: There is a growing interest in this community in the religious instruction of negroes. There is a conviction that religious instruction promotes the quiet and order of the people, and the pecuniary interest of the owners.' (WHITTIER.)

THE SHOEMAKERS1

Ho! workers of the old time styled The Gentle Craft of Leather!

1 In his Songs of Labor, though Whittier wrote with most sympathy of the two trades at which he had himself worked, shoemaking (cf. Carpenter's Whittier, pp. 39-41) and farming (see The Huskers,' p. 278), there are lines in others of the Songs which cannot be spared from any selection of his poetry. Such are these from The Lumbermen: '

Keep who will the city's alleys,
Take the smooth-shorn plain;
Give to us the cedarn valleys,
Rocks and hills of Maine!

Young brothers of the ancient guild,
Stand forth once more together!
Call out again your long array,
In the olden merry manner!
Once more, on gay St. Crispin's day,
Fling out your blazoned banner!

Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone
How falls the polished hammer!
Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown
A quick and merry clamor.
Now shape the sole ! now deftly curl
The glossy vamp around it,

And bless the while the bright-eyed girl
Whose gentle fingers bound it!

For you, along the Spanish main
A hundred keels are ploughing,
For you, the Indian on the plain
His lasso-coil is throwing;
For you, deep glens with hemlock dark
The woodman's fire is lighting;

For you, upon the oak's gray bark,
The woodman's axe is smiting.

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Free hands and hearts are still your pride,

In our North-land, wild and woody,
Let us still have part:
Rugged nurse and mother sturdy,
Hold us to thy heart!

r the beginning of 'The Drovers : '

Through heat and cold, and shower and sun,
Still onward cheerly driving!

There's life alone in duty done,

And rest alone in striving.

See also the beautiful 'Dedication' of the Songs of abor, p. 282.

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