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Chapter Four. Slavery
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117 4 Slavery I. SINCE MERCY FELL BY TYRANNY Poets North and South were convinced that the Civil War resulted from clearly defined forces over which man had, or should have had, control. From this attitude grew an intensely vitriolic verse. And, since vitriol is vitriol, wherever one finds it, it is not surprising that Northern and Southern poets employed identical epithets. A favorite label of opprobrium, knowing no geographical boundaries, was Tyranny. The Northern poet Dexter Smith, and the Southern poet Cornelia J. M. Jordan, similarly charge the opposition with Tyranny in the poems which follow. Smith’s poem is from Poems (Boston, 1868); Jordan’s poem is from Corinth and Other Poems of the War (Lynchburg, 1865). In Memoriam (Abraham Lincoln) by Dexter Smith Columbia weeps! Her cherished son, Who struck her fetters to the ground, Who saved the land of Washington, Has passed from earth’s most distant bound. His spirit went to realms on high; His dust, alone, the earth could claim; His memory will never die While freemen live to bless his name. Columbia swear anew her vow To guard the birthright of the free; 118| Lee Steinmetz Unsheathed, her sword of Justice now Since Mercy fell by Tyranny. Our nation’s hopes and fears alike Are with the land our fathers trod, And while for Freedom now we strike, Our future is alone with God. Our Fallen Brave by Cornelia J. M. Jordan They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell, The noble patriot band, And Freedom for their sakes, becomes A mourner through the Land. They rushed to Victory or Death, They struck for Liberty, And Victory’s tears now gild their swords— Our fallen and our free! They met the Tyrant’s vassal-hordes; No faltering hearts were there— Our Country’s truth their battle-cry, Our Country’s weal, their care. They marched into the jaws of Death; No wavering pulse they knew, And minions crouched before their blades, Our valiant and our true! They fought as patriots, fearless, bold, As patriots too they fell, And struggling nations yet to be Their daring deeds shall tell. Aye, nations yet unborn shall smile, To learn that Victory Embalmed with tears their shattered shields, Our faithful and our free! [50.17.92.200] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 09:49 GMT) Slavery| 119 They sleep—no wail of sorrowing Love May break their deep repose, Nor blast of bugle, fife or drum Their dull cold ear unclose. They sleep—they are not dead the while, Though funeral banners wave— They live in Memory’s holy place, Our beautiful, our brave! They live in hearts that fondly prize, The proud immortal trust, And Fame’s unfading chaplet crowns, Pale slumberers in the dust. Their story shall but nerve our arms, Their names our War-cry be, And Glory’s star shall light their graves, Our fallen and our free. II. GAUNT TREASON The North, if anything, had the edge on the South in vitriolic language, in part because the alleged treasonableness of the South rankled in the hearts of Northern poets with such peculiar bitterness. Along with the charge of Tyranny , which they were obliged to share with Southern poets, Northern poets frequently added the charge of Treason, particularly in their call-to-arms poems. In its use of the charge of Treason, in its invocation of the Revolutionary War, in its assertion that God is on the side of the North, and in its plea for a preservation of the Union, the following poem by J. A. Nunes is typical. The poem is from Day Dreams (Philadelphia, 1863). Freedom’s Rally Wake, Freedom, with thy trumpet tongue, Each echo in the land, Till, at the sound, both old and young In arms before thee stand! 120| Lee Steinmetz Gaunt Treason, stalking in the light, Uprears its hydra head, And thy bright hosts must prove their might, And strike the monster dead! Form, freemen, as the snow-flakes form Upon the mountain side, And onward move, as moves the storm In its relentless pride! Let traitors learn that treason’s woe, And, while their cheeks still blanche, Impel yourselves upon the foe, A living avalanche! Shall it be said that Lexington In vain gave freedom birth; In vain was seen by Yorktown’s sun Oppression crushed to earth? Shall it be said the wise, the good, The brave, who’ve been our pride, Poured forth in vain their precious blood; In vain have fought...