Freedom, Truth And Beauty Part 9

II

Wake, Caledonia! though Macauley, Whigging, Would ward the flames from scarring William's face, So that, then, Cain might shriek,--here, take my place, A fugitive and outcast, with no digging To hide in, nor a rest for my fatiguing; The mark on me, is but G.o.d's finger trace; On you, 'tis G.o.d's whole hand!--Still, there's the blaze!

There's England's soul of merciless intriguing!

List! 'tis the bagpipes welcoming the guest.

See the a.s.sembly, dance and feast. Oh, watch The open heart and flow of good old Scotch; The English come, as friends, must have the best.

There, hospitality is at top notch,-- And so is treachery in Britain's breast.

III

The c.o.c.k crows.--Is he dreaming? 'Tis dark still.

He crows again and now, from farm to farm, His fellows echo far his dazed alarm And flap of wings on fences. He is shrill Because it is not dawn above the hill, That wakes him, but the English, as they arm, And murder sleep, that has no dream of harm, In couch and crib,--to further England's will.

O Caledonia! with such lamp in hand As Glencoe's horror, thou hast England true.

Why let Froude fiction haze thy vivid view?

Put not thy light out for sound sleep, but stand And answer, when the mother, whom thou drew Thy soul from, cries "Glencoe"! when Black and Taned.

CANADA

I

O Canada, Long red with cottage flame From Britain's torch! thy blasts milk not the cloud To nourish hope; instead, they spread the shroud On Human Spirit answering Freedom's claim.

Whence comes the cold which icicles with shame, Thy heart's Niagara, that should thunder loud Unto thy far off soul in sorrow, bowed O'er Papineau, whom Thraldom could not tame?

Now following the Friends, who grandly led The slave through tunnels to the Northern Star, To find, in freedom, richer bloomage far, Than the Magnolia o'er the cattle shed,-- I reach thy soul,--where now the Crawfords are, And learn the cold is not from manhood dead.

II

Whence comes this cold to Freedom's claim? we know Only too well,--from creatures of the King, Who had dragged h.e.l.l of every poisonous thing And, through our country, had spread waste and woe.

Beaten at last, they flocked like carion crow, On the dead body of their will to sting, Which drifting Northward, and enlargening, Loomed Dante's Nimrod, 'mid the Arctic snow.

There, with the reptile's hate of Man Upright, As G.o.d created him, and reptiles veins, Aflow with deaths cold blood--for that sustains The life of tyrant and of parasite-- This monster, though half sunk in h.e.l.l, remains High, still, above the Arctic's shuddering night.

III

The monster's inhalations empty h.e.l.l Of all deterents to Life's flow and flower; Then, its outbreathings icily devour The cataract in flight and, down the dell, The streamlets to delight, and buds, as well, Of virtue, forming bloom for Freedom's bower;-- Nay, its out breathings,--through Creed hatred's power-- Grow Boreus and face where freeman dwell.

Lo! with Sun-warmth for Truth and Human Right, Is Boreus met. Who hurles him down the deep?

Look close;--'tis Gladden who, on Freedom's steep, Is as inspiring, as, on Andes' height, The great Christ Statue, bidding Rancor sleep And Life's diverging rays in love, beam Light.

IV

The cataracts wild leap, turned glittering ice In shame's suspension, and crow souls afeeding Upon a huge dead body and fast breeding,-- Is, as a scene, not worth the railroad's price; But, oh, if, with "Excelsior" for device, Thou climb thy Alpine way, each day exceeding The other's height, what throngs would watch thy speeding And, for the thrill thou woulds't give them, come twice!

O Canada! why all this sleigh-bell rhyming?

'Tis on the reindeer, hope, in speed with me To the grand morning, when thou shalt breathe free Upon the apex of thine Alpine climbing, From foulsome, choaking smells of tyranny, Thick from the Great Sea Serpent's inland sliming.

V

G.o.d said to Wrong: "No further shalt thou go."

This, Monroe heard and held, then, in his heart.

It was this he repeated, when on chart He made his markings, checking Freedom's foe.

G.o.d never grants to Wrong the right to grow; Because He sets its bounds, does not impart His blessing on its growth, more than its start; His blessing goes to Right, to overthrow.

Oh, let thine eyes for migratory flight Speed southward! Pa.s.sing Prejudice's Lake, Green-crusted with stagnation which some take For verdure, they will see from Andes' height, How Freedom's battle forms the red day-break, And tides are swells from thrall, hurled deep from sight.

VI

Thine eyes returning from the Southern Cross, Will, when like Perry, they have reached the Pole, Search under it to find thy banished soul, O Canada, and tell it of thy loss In letting a foul dead body, which the moss Of the deep sea should hide, loom as thy whole And rule, as dead things rule, with death for toll, As pierced by Papineau through Glamor's gloss.

From South to North, no sky is black but thine.

Thy fecund brain, the Borealis, shows A swaying disc with shades of dark for glows, With but a faint salt smell of Color's brine, The pent-up billows in the disc's dark close, Which might flood midnight with rare, world-wide s.h.i.+ne.

VII

We seek no annexation, but of Mind, Heart, Spirit. True, thy clear, sonorous voice At Freedom's cla.s.s-call, would make us rejoice, For, then, close-coasting thrall would fail to find In the new world, one truant to mankind, Swimming out to the foreigners' decoys, Or fast asleep amid his infant toys, Instead of at the task, which G.o.d a.s.signed.

Oh, let thy spirit come, but it must be Along the star-way to the rising sun-- The way of love; not down creed hates that run, Like broken stone-steps, to a roaring sea-- The way thou oft, hast come. Rise, and be one On the new world's Star-top of Liberty.

VIII

"The Angels come in dreams," says Holy Writ; And Science says, "No sleep so deep, but dreams."

Devine appearances with brightening gleams Toward Paradise up from the demon's pit, Ever rouse virtue; aye, for G.o.d redeems His fire, wherever hid; the tempest teems, But still his sparks fly, quick as flint is. .h.i.t.

Wake, Canada! and let thy Papineaus Be dreams remembered; yea, let them inspire Thy life to follow Freedom high and higher Through Rights' whole range of summits, crowned with snows Sparkling from star-moulds of the Soul's desire, On earth from Heaven where, clouds from flames, they rose.

DRAGON INCURSIONS

I

O Freedom! whose pure soul and heart embrace Translates me into heaven, I draw for breath The joy of angels who have not known death.