USA > Rhode Island > Providence County > Providence > An oration on the annals of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations > Part 6
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I do not remember that Dr. Vinton, in his learned and delightful dis- course, included Jemima Wilkinson among the characters of Rhode Island.
Very truly yours,
HENRY B. ANTHONY.
HENRY T. DROWNE, Esq., New York.
NOTE VI .- PAGE 44.
LETTER OF GEORGE C. ARNOLD, ESQ.
PROVIDENCE. May 28, 1863.
Dear Sir :- I am in receipt of yours of yesterday. James Rhodes, of Providence, in 1811, or about that time, owned a farm in Cranston, a few rods over the city line, and lived there during the summer months. On a hot day in July, he discovered a pig in his " elover meadow." He called his son and my brother (Mr. William H. Arnold, now of Warwick), who, with a dog, after a good run, drove the pig into the barn-yard, where he soon after died with over heat.
Mr. Perry, the owner of the pig, demanded damages. Rhodes refused. Perry commenced a suit. James Burrill, his attorney, said many hard things against Rhodes, and finally defeated him. Rhodes had to pay dam- ages, costs, etc.
Judge Mathewson, of Scituate, a member of the General Assembly for many years, a true and intimate friend of Rhodes, made it his home there when in the city. He was, and had been for years, a leading man in the Federal party in the State, and had always voted for Burrill. But James
60
NOTES.
Rhodes told Mathewson not, on any account, to vote for Burrill, if he had any desire to preserve their friendship. Mathewson made no promise ; but, when the vote was put, voted for Jeremiah B. Howell. This made a tie vote, when the chairman, Governor James Fenner, voted for Howell, who was, accordingly, elected Senator to Congress.
In Washington, Jeremiah B. Howell voted for war with England, which made a tie vote ; and the chairman decided for war with England.
This is the story, as I always understood it. At any rate, if James Bur- rill had received Mathewson's vote he would have been elected, and there would not have been a tie vote. Burrill would have voted for peace, but Howell voted for war. And had it not been for the pig, Mathewson would have voted, of course, for Burrill. Yours truly,
To HENRY T. DROWNE, New York.
GEORGE C. ARNOLD.
NOTE VII .- PAGE 50.
BISHOP BURGESS' POEM ON RHODE ISLAND, IN 1842.
O gallant land of bosoms true, Still bear that stainless shield ! That anchor clung the tempest through ; That hope, untaught to yield! Fair city, "all thy banners wave," And high thy trumpet sound ! The name thy righteous father gave, Still guards thee round and round.
No thirst for war's wild joy was thine, Nor flashed one hireling sword : Forth, for their own dear household shrine, The patriot yeomen poured ; There, rank to rank, like brethren stood, One soul, and step, and hand ; And crushed the stranger's robber-brood, And kept their father's land,
High hung the rusting scythe awhile, And ceased the spindle's roar. The boat rocked idly by the isle, And on the ocean shore ; The belted burgher paced his street ; The seaman wheeled his gun ; Steel gleamed along the ruler's seat, And study's task was done!
Old Narragansett rang with arms, : And rang the silver bay, And that sweet shore whose girdled charms Were Philip's ancient sway ;
NOTES. 61
And our old island's halcyon scene The black artillery sent ; And answered, from the home of Greene, The men of dauntless Kent !
Can freedom's truth endure the shock That comes in freedom's name ?
Rhode Island, like a Spartan rock, Upheld her country's fame ! The land that first threw wide its gates, And gave the exile rest,
First arins to save the strength of States, And guards her freedom best.
Oh. ever thus, dear land of ours, Be nurse of steadfast men !
So firmer far than hills and towers Or rocky pass and glen ! For peace alone, to dare the fight ; The soldier for the laws;
Thine anchor fast in heavenly might; Thy hope, an holy cause !
Providence Journal, July 15, 1842.
NOTE VIII .- PAGE 51.
LETTER OF HIS EXCELLENCY, WILLIAM SPRAGUE, LATE GOVERNOR, BUT NOW UNITED STATES SENATOR, OF RHODE ISLAND.
PROVIDENCE, June 6, 1862.
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS, Esq., Corresponding Secretary, Association Sons Rhode Island, New York.
My Dear Sir :- I duly received your kind favor 29th ult., informing me that at the first meeting of the Executive Committee of your Association I was elected an Honorary Member.
I am highly gratified with this compliment. Will you please present to the Committee my profound acknowledgments.
The delay in answering your note was in consequence of my absence from Rhode Island with two regiments of Infantry and one battery of Light Artillery, collected together directly from the people at one day's notice.
Having no efficient State organization to draw from, or to embarrass prompt action, our people, unaided and by themselves, have learned the spirit and duties of the soldier. So numerous a response at so short notice from so limited a number of people, is, in my opinion, unprecedented in the history of any country, they having at the same time double their quota in the national service.
This, you will perceive, is another contribution of Rhode Island's loyalty and patriotism in aid of a government menaced by men who would destroy all liberty-all law, country and people, to establish a bastard empire.
God preserve us from such a curse, is the constant prayer of your obliged fellow-countryman, and obedient servant,
WILLIAM SPRAGUE.
4
62
NOTES.
· NOTE IX .- PAGE 51.
THE THREE TELEGRAMS, FROM THE NEW YORK COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, SHOWING THE STATE OF THE PUBLIC MIND IN THE SEVERAL CITIES, IN RELATION TO THE OUTBREAK OF THE PRESENT CIVIL REBELLION.
WAR NEWS IN OTHER CITIES.
WASHINGTON, Saturday, April 13, 1861.
The war news is received here with deep feelings of regret. There is no excitement, but the prospects of the future create a general feeling of depression.
PROVIDENCE, R. I., Saturday, April 13, 1861.
Governor Sprague has tendered to the Government the services of the Marine Artillery,* and one thousand infantry, and offers to accompany them himself.
BosTON, Saturday, April 13, 1861.
The war news from Charleston creates a profound sensation in this city, and throughout the State. The general sentiment is, that the Federal Government is right, and shall be sustained.
* Battery of Light Artillery. "This was the first battery of rifled cannon in the service of the United States, either volunteer or regular."-WOODBURY's "Campaign of the First Rhode Island Regiment," p. 173, note.
NOTE X .- PAGE 51.
RATIO OF SOLDIERS TO POPULATION. 2
The following table shows the ratio of the number of soldiers furnished thus far by each State, to the population of the State. In Kansas, it would appear that one fourth of the entire male population has gone to the war. The States are arranged in the order of their ratio :
A. D. 1861-1863.
Kansas. 1 to 7.30
Massachusetts 1 to 17.06
Rhode Island.
1 to 11.10
New York to 17.53
Illinois
1 to 12.63
New Hampshire. to 17.86
Indiana
.1 to 13.15
Wisconsin. 1 to 18.23
Ohio
1 to 13.15
Kentucky 1 to 20.29
Iowa 1 to 13.59
Maine.
1 to 20.24
Pennsylvania 1 to 14.54
New Jersey .1 to 22.40
Minnesota. 1 to 14.65'
Delaware. 1 to 21.44
Michigan
1 to 15.61
Missouri. 1 to 31.02
Connecticut
1 to 16.12
Oregon . 1 to 51.56
Vermont.
.1 to 16.58
California 1 to 54.35
Western Virginia
1 to 16.75
Maryland 1 to 63.70
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NOTES.
NOTE XI .- PAGE 51.
REMINISCENCES OF THE SONS OF RHODE ISLAND IN NEW YORK.
The First Rhode Island Regiment, commanded by Col. Ambrose E. Burn- side, and accompanied by Governor Sprague and staff, arrived at New York, en route for the defence of Washington, in the steamer Empire State, on Sunday morning, April 21st, 1861. They were visited during the day by many of the sons of Rhode Island residing in the city and vicinity; and among the first was the Rev. Dr. Francis Vinton. of Trinity Church, New York, whose friendly greetings and patriotic counsels were warmly received by officers and men. As the Regiment left the pier, at the foot of Canal street, North River, late in the afternoon, on board the transport Coatza- coalcos, patriotic speeches were made by the Governor and others, as also enthusiastic cheers exchanged between the sons of Rhode Island, on board and on shore.
Another incident afterwards, on March 29th, 1862, called together the sons of Rhode Island in New York, when the bodies of some of her lament- ed dead-the gallant SLOCUM, BALLOU, and TOWER, who fell in the first bat- tle of Bull Run-were borne through the city. This led to the organiza- tion of THE SONS OF RHODE ISLAND as a permanent association. On the day of the public obsequies, a meeting was held at the Astor House, and a committee appointed, consisting of John II. Ormsbee, Benjamin G. Arnold, Charles Congdon, Henry Jacobs, Henry T. Drowne, Dr. Francis Vinton, and Randall II. Greene, to draft the Constitution, which was adopted May 23d, 1862.
The Association at present numbers upwards of one hundred resident Rhode Islanders, and has enrolled as its Honorary Members
WILLIAM SPRAGUE GEORGE BANCROFT, WILLIAM R. STAPLES,
SAMUEL G. ARNOLD,
GEORGE H. CALVERT,
JOHN RUSSELL BARTLETT,
HENRY B. ANTHONY, USHER PARSONS.
HOPE
.
A RHYME
OF
RHODE ISLAND AND THE TIMES:
PRONOUNCED BEFORE
THE SONS OF RHODE ISLAND IN NEW YORK,
AT THEIR FIRST ANNIVERSARY,
HELD IN THE
Hall of the New York Historical Society,
MAY 29, 1863,
BY GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.
DELIVERED, ALSO,
In Brooklyn, N. Y., before the Long Island Historical Society, June 11, 1863. To the Citizens of Providence, R. I., in Roger Williams' Hall, June 26, 1863. To the Redwood Library Association, Newport, R. I., in Aquidneck Hall, June 30, 1863.
THE RHYME.
SONS of Rhode Island ! how could I refuse At your command to woo the unwilling Muse ? To me unwilling, for she knows that I To climb Parnassus' steep no longer try ; That my accounts with Helicon are closed, And I for many a year have only prosed.
Yet had I said what dear Rhode Island knows, Seed sown on barren places never grows ; If I had stopped to doubt, delay, demur, You would have said, " he's no Rhode Islander." Therefore, if you had bade me think in Greek, Or plant our flag on Dhawalagiri's peak ; To sail through Symmes's hole, or straightway lay An undisputed railroad in Broadway ; If you had ordered me to keep gold steady, Or for this night to have an epic ready ; To think Rhode Island's record could be straighter, Or that Vallandigham is not a traitor ; Or to call him a Union man, indeed, Who wished the Empire City to secede ; A kind of Unionist by small Brooks bred, A Wood-en body and a copper-head ;
ES O.K
A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND
If you had told me that I must believe The London Times would o'er our ruin grieve ; Whose correspondent weekly writes to say, " This sick man won't survive another day," And, winking to John Bull, keeps gayly humming, " There's a good time coming, John, a good time coming ;" Or, if still harder tasks your will requires, Tell me to find by yonder bright camp-fires One son of Greene who in the crashing fray Knows how to yield or how to run away ; Or one of Hopkins' brothers on the sea Where heart does not compel the victory.
Tell me from out my heart to raze each name
That consecrates anew Rhode Island's fame, Or find upon the globe another State In soil so little and in soul so great ; Or in a wilder fit of pure caprice, Should some one sigh at any price for peace, And ask me for peace arguments in song As good as Grierson's or half as long, Or likely to convert our rebel kith Like those that General Gillmore argues with, Or bid me name, if such a man they want,
A better peace man than Ulysses Grant, Who says with emphasis that never ceases If you want peace then knock your foe in pieces .- However hopeless any task might be That Narragansett wisdom laid on me, This, though despairing, should be my reply, "Sons of Rhode Island, I, at least, will try."
But no such serious duty falls on me, You only ask a sound of minstrelsy ; A little singing after sober sense ; A little jingling after eloquence.
69
AND THE TIMES.
Indeed, the duty you invite me to Is what all honest men would gladly do : For if his hands were large as his desire, Who would not strike-yes, and knock down, the lyre. I wish all lyres were struck,-then should not we The sport of special correspondents be ; Nor they alone,-for though we've heard it said Baron Munchausen long ago was dead, Who does not know,-alas, 'tis true, 'tis pity, He edits every paper in the city.
Do you upbraid me that my idle rhymes Jar on the solemn measure of the times? Do you reprove the wanton mind that strays From the continuous dirges of these days? Nay, friends and brothers, at this moment, we Think the same thoughts and the same visions see. Admonished by life's fluctuating scene Of all he is and all he might have been,- Man toiling upward on the dizzy track, Still looks regretful or remorseful back, Paces old paths, remembering vows that rolled In burning words from lips forever cold,- Bows his sad head where once he bowed the knee, And kissed the cheek that no more kissed shall be. So the sad traveller climbing from the plain, Turns from the hill and sees his home again, And sighs to know that, that sweet prospect o'er, The boundless world is but a foreign shore.
Thus, dear Rhode Island, on thy shrine to-day Thy children pausing hang this votive lay ; No other song upon their lips shall be, For it is music to remember thee.
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A RIIYME OF RHODE ISLAND
Though far our feet have wandered since they played Beneath the trees that thy green meadows shade,- Though many a wave has wet our lips since first At Roger Williams' spring we quenched our thirst,- Though we have seen with fascinated eye, The Syrian shore and the Italian sky,- Yet such the magic that in memory dwells, Such the soft hue that o'er the distance swells, That not in Asian valleys could we view A fairer landscape than our childhood knew ; Nor in the deep Sorrento heaven find A tenderer beauty than we left behind. Though we have stood by classic Tiber's side, And watched the darkly rolling Danube glide,- Or that benignant Bacchus, Father Rhine, Reel seaward garlanded with endless vine, - Or farther, broader, grander, the bright smile On Africa's dark face of her calm Nile,- Yet dearer to our hearts the smiles that play On thy bright waters, Narragansett Bay !
Nor these alone, but eager memory pours Poetic light on other streams and shores, Thermopyla, heroic Marathon, Fields where the prizes of the world were won. And wandering beneath the happy sky Where art triumphant piles its trophies high, In that pure clime where, ruined though it be, The Parthenon still smiles across the sea; And every moon the traveller looks upon Herself Dian wakes him Endymion, -- From the rich dust of the Agean shore, Waked by our longing, Greece revived once more ; Mercurial France we saw, whose rivers flow Through sunny vineyards and by old chateaux.
71
.
AND THE TIMES.
Vainest of nations! yet its greatest joy Not its own child, but an Italian boy ; Home of the Graces, who, with pouting mouth, Jeered at the Muses who preferred the South. Shrewdest of Savans! most decorous Sinner, Ready for your dissection or your dinner,- With witty lip and calculating heart, Academy of sciences and art. But vain its colleges and wit and schools ! Once more in France a silent despot rules, The nobler France, with melancholy eyes, Sees the strange pageant played beneath the skies, Sees, as in some grotesquest fever dream, . A wild adventurer seizing power supreme, And murdering Frenchmen till his terrors cease, Then gravely dubbing his frail empire "peace ;" While the gay cock that froze in Russian snow, Burns his clipped wings in torrid Mexico, And nobler France dishonored hangs its head, Its master perjured, and its heroes fled.
And we have crossed to that delightful isle Where dwells a gentle people without guile, Modest and mild, unselfish and polite, A race in whom all noble traits unite : A frugal people doing good by stealth, Disdaining empire and despising wealth ; The Dollar worship gives them huge offence, For all their piety is pounds and pence.
They chide the wars of others, for they know No civil broils their virtuous annals show. They never fought for conquest or for gain, Their sternest song is a bucolic strain. They never rammed with supercilious cant Down China's throat what China did not want.
72
A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND
From blasting cannon's mouth they never blew The hopeless, helpless, ignorant Hindoo, -- Nor on the bleak Crimean hills engaged In the most needless war men ever waged.
Hail, great John Bull ! warm, generous, sincere ! Pious and just, to all the virtues dear ! All nations love you, John, 'tis sweet to see, That in their view of you they all agree,- But their affection to express most fully, Bull is too cold, and so they call you bully ! Your neighbors love you! from the earliest day, France doated on her dear "god-dam Anglais." Erin, whose years in prosperous progress glide, Sits fat, content, and happy at your side, While shaggy Russia sucks her ursine paws, And watching her dear friend, unsheathes her claws.
Well, moral John, since your loud mouth declares That you are corn and other people tares,- Since you delight your portly form to draw As champion of Liberty and Law, Faithful to friends, to foes a fearful fellow,- Cease, for a moment, your tremendous bellow, And tell us why, when trampling on the law, A band of desperate men their weapons draw, Pleading no cause but that it suits them well To turn their country into very hell, That they may have the unrestricted pleasure Of selling men and babies at their leisure,- Contending that the Constitution meant They might whip women to their hearts' content, And everywhere this must be guaranteed, And for all time, or else they would secede, While this God-given privilege to gain They'd pile the land with heaps of brothers slain,-
73
AND THE TIMES.
Why at that moment, friend of freedom, why To Liberty one word did you deny ? Champion of justice, why did you decide, To take the wretched women-whippers' side ? And when a friend was struggling with both hands Against the onset of assassin bands, Why did you snivel that in your opinion, Your friend was fighting only for dominion,- Sharpen your nails, and cry, "though I may rue it, I'll scratch his back, and now's the time to do it, -- " Why did you sneer so sourly that you knew We'd undertaken what we could not do ? And smile contemptuous, as you shook your head. " Kicking's no use, for you're as good as dead ?" Had mountains swelled or oceans rolled between, If separating deserts there had been, If any natural barrier indeed, We might have said, " in God's name do secede." It could not be, no force the State can sever, God made us one, God keeps us one forever ; Union's an instinct, John, and so you see Disunion cannot, will not, shall not be !
Beloved Bull, you tossed your angry horn With such a lofty roar of moral scorn, We knew you meant some special mischief, and We saw you stretching out a stealthy hand To seize, and burn, and ravage eagerly, . A friendly nation's helpless ships at sea, Declaring, as you loosed your pirates on her, That British law could not save British honor. Once in our Senate, John, a stealthy blow From a dull ruffian laid a good man low. The country shuddered ; every man from far Scented the hideous breath of civil war .-
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A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND
The deed was fearful, and yet History A sadder sight in your record will see ; For ever in your Parliament there stands A British Senator who says, "these hands, British Lawgivers, broke and break your laws," And seats himself 'mid England's loud applause.
Why is all this ; Beloved of nations, why ? Though WE might answer, what is your reply ? Why, friend of law, do you its soldiers slander ? Why, Freedom's Champion, are you slavery's pander ? At least be manly. Since we know why,-speak ! If you are false, why also be a sneak ? Could you for once with your fine moral air, Could you for once be honest, frank, and fair ? John Toodles Bull ! we know your ancient whine- " I reely can't ; it isn't in my line."
But, better England ! our indignant rhymes Do not confound you with the London Times, England of Bright and Cobden, Cairnes and Mill, You are the England of John Milton still. Sir Roundell Palmer quibbles ; Palmerston Sneers at an ally in his smartest tone, The little Lords make merry at our name, And mark with rebel badges their own shame, Their loud applauses pirate bands inspire, That waste the sea and light their course with fire, But, nobler Britons ! still to justice true, From gross and dull John Bull, we turn to you. O, toiling hands ! O, sympathetic hearts ! Our love from you no rolling ocean parts, Through every cloud the mighty truth you see, We fight the battle of your Liberty.
75
AND THE TIMES.
When in our fields the holy war shall cease, And from its sacred blood spring perfect peace, No tyranny can then hope to endure, No rank or privilege will be secure. Then the full splendor of that flag unfurled, Will light with all its meaning all the world; The meteor flag of caste will droop and fall, God and the people will be all in all.
These have we seen, and yet, Rhode Island, we Would not exchange the fairest land for thee. Thy vines are few; thy Alps are very low ; In thy judicious soil no almonds grow ; On thy green shores when grateful olives shine, They're wisely pickled in a foreign brine; If "Torno's cliff and Pambamarca's side" Thy gentle undulations should deride, Philip's Mount Hope thou hast for solace still, And thou hast what is left of old Smith's Hill. If Marathon, Marengo, Waterloo, Should ask thy famed historic fields to view, Show them, Rhode Island, with a high disdain, Thy Dexter training-ground, and Seekonk plain. If proud cathedrals in their Gothic style, Pronounce Rhode Island architecture vile, Calmly reply, "'tis true we have no great house, But we've a Baptist Church, a Newport State house." And when some Frenchman, pert and débonnaire, Asks to inspect Rhode Islandsbill of fare, Since all his pride upon a frog's legs leans, Show him a dish of John B. Chace's beans. The case of one who boasts of British prog Treat with a firm, but delicate tautog, And if his boasting louder grows, and louder, Stop his broad mouth with green corn and a chowder.
76
'A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND
Rhode Island geese !- kind friends, it is not you, Nor I, who need their praises to pursue ;- Nor will I hint that any listener here Was e'er laid out on Carpenter's spruce beer.
We are thy sons, Rhode Island, and we know Why all thy children love their mother so ; Thy form is slight, but we remember well The tale thy ancient gossips love to tell,- How when a statesman, to deride thy size, Asked a Rhode Island girl, with laughing eyes, How many square feet in the State might be,- Her ready lips responded instantly : " In our beloved Rhode Island, sir," she said- " Not by the foot we measure, but the head."
Or better still, a story of the day, How when, last year, our troops near Yorktown lay, A young Rhode Island picket, on the hill, Heard from the enemy the summons shrill, " And to what regiment do you belong ?"- Promptly his answer echoed clear and strong, " The hundred fourth Rhode Island,"-for he knew That what he said was of her spirit true ; The little mother, by instinctive art, Not by the head he measured, but the heart.
And still again ; of late the laborers found Near Newport an old Indian burial ground. Uninjured in the grave the relics lay, The bodies buried in the white man's way ; But, wondering, the explorers saw in spots, Some heads were cased in solid copper pots. "
-
77
AND THE TIMES.
'Tis strange that human beings any where, For their last night-caps copper pots should wear ; That they, as'twere, in their deep graves should be So copper bound for all eternity :-
But stranger, that live men should be such sots As to plunge their heads into copper pots- Seeing not, hearing not ; but butting blind At every thing they find or think they find, Trying to prove to every man and woman, That copper heads are better than the human. These Newport relics show us what we knew, Rhode Island to the human head is true ; And the last copperhead her soil below She buried deep, two hundred years ago.
O native State ! thy praises while we sing, Through our light song the shouts of battle ring ; On our bowed hearts the blows of battle fall,- And in each blow we hear our country call, So while on thee our lavish praise we pour, We love thee much,-but love our country more. All that we are and have, how well we know, Our native land ! to thee thy children owe. And since each State, as prospering it stands, Draws its importance from thy fostering hands ; Since in the nation's doubtful, threatening hour, There is but one supreme, one sovereign power ; This the chief glory of our State shall be, Rhode Island taught us how to honor thee. For when assassins, skulking on thy track, Fawned in thy face, and stabbed thee in the back, While all thy children heard the startling cry, Rhode Island answered first : "Lo! here am I." For, by her founder's hand, the little State To every liberty was dedicate;
78
A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND
And in the ardent van of human rights Old Roger Williams naturally fights. Through the loud tempest of the mighty strife, Where, undismayed, the country strikes for life, I hear his joyous summons pealing clear Across the stormy field, "What cheer ! What cheer?" And from each quarter echoing through the sky Perry's proud music gives the glad reply,- "The fight is sharp, but the foe plainly cowers, We've met the enemy and they are ours."
We've met the enemy, but on the field Lie the brave boys who died, but could not yield. Rhode Island boys! you only march before, Your tents are pitched upon the heavenly shore ; And never earthly storm or battle rain On your young sacred heads shall beat again. Beloved and blessed ! the unextinguished fire That warmed your hearts, our hearts shall still inspire : Your victory won, your perfect peace secure, Your glory with your country's shall endure. And brothers, you who in the fight still stand, Battling for liberty and native land, While down your ranks peals Perry's bugle note, Above your heads two sacred banners float : On one the anchor, firm 'mid hissing seas,* Holds by the centre till the storm shall cease- A flag above it hangs, the colors of the Mother Our fathers knew, and we will know no other. Our best beloved, our pride of song and story, God save the stars and stripes, our common glory ! Lift up your eyes, Rhode Island soldiers, see ! Our State says "Hope," our country "Liberty !"
* The device upon the flag of the State of Rhode Island is an anchor, with the inscription " Hope."
------
79
AND THE TIMES.
.
At last, at last, each glowing star, In that pure field of heavenly blue, On every people shining far, Burns, to its utmost promise true.
Hopes in our fathers' hearts that stirred, Justice, the seal of peace, long scorned, O perfect peace ! too long deferred, At last, at last, your day has dawned.
Your day has dawned, but many an hour Of storm and cloud, of doubt and tears, Across the eternal sky must lower, Before the glorious noon appears.
And not for us that noontide glow, For us the strife, and toil shall be, But welcome toil, for now we know, Our children shall that glory sec.
At last, at last ! O, stars and stripes, Touched in your birth by Freedom's flame ! Your purifying lightning wipes Out from our history its shame.
Stand to your faith, America ! Sad Europe, listen to our call ! Up to your manhood, Africa ! That gracious flag floats over all.
80
A RHYME OF RHODE ISLAND AND THE TIMES.
And when the hour seems dark with doom, Our sacred banner lifted higher, Shall flash away the gathering gloom With inextinguishable fire.
Pure as its white the future see ! Bright as its red is now the sky ! Fixed as its stars the faith shall be, That nerves our hands to do or die.
F 845-833
6029
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