Sage and hero, side by side, 'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, II. FREEDOM all winged expands, Whose dark sky sheds the snow-flake down, The snow-flake is her banner's star, Her stripes the boreal streamers are. She will not refuse to dwell Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, Hid from men of Northern brain, Far beholding, without cloud, What these with slowest steps attain. For freedom he will strike and strive, III. In an age of fops and toys, Forsake their comrades gay, And quit proud homes and youthful dames, For famine, toil, and fray? Yet on the nimble air benign Speed nimbler messages, That waft the breath of grace divine To hearts in sloth and ease. So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, I can. IV. O, WELL for the fortunate soul Stealing away the memory Of sorrows new and old! Yet happier he whose inward sight, Stayed on his subtile thought, But best befriended of the God Warned by an inward voice, Heeds not the darkness and the dread, Biding by his rule and choice, Feeling only the fiery thread. Leading over heroic ground, Walled with mortal terror round, And the sweet heaven his deed secures. Him Duty through the clarion calling Stainless soldier on the walls, Knowing this, and knows no more, Whoever fights, whoever falls, Justice conquers evermore, Justice after as before, And he who battles on her side, Victor over death and pain; Redress the eternal scales. He, the poor foe, whom angels foil, Reserved to a speechless fate. V. BLOOMS the laurel which belongs They reach no term, they never sleep, In equal strength through space abide; Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, And rankly on the castled steep, Speak it firmly, these are gods, BOSTON. Sicut patribus, sit Deus nobis. READ IN FANEUIL HALL, ON DECEMBER 16, 1873, ON THE THE rocky nook with hill-tops three The men of yore were stout and poor, And where they went on trade intent Their dauntless ways did all men praise, The world was made for honest trade, – The waves that rocked them on the deep Said the winds that sung the lads to sleep, The honest waves refuse to slaves The empire of the ocean caves. Old Europe groans with palaces, |