African American Poetry (1870-1928): A Digital Anthology

Maurice N. Corbett, "The Harp of Ethiopia" (full text) (1914)

This text was edited and formatted by Sarah Thompson, based on page-image scans derived from HathiTrust in June 2024. 

Editor's Note: this collection contains a long narrative arc, describing African people before enslavement and transport, the experience of Black people during slavery, various forms of resistance and uprisings (including the Haitian revolution), the American Civil War, the Reconstruction, the Spanish-American War, and into the early 20th century. It is, in effect, a history of the Black diaspora in verse form. -AS

The Harp Of Ethiopia

Nashville, Tenn.;
National. Baptist Publishing Board


    The heroic deeds of their leaders and ancestral progenitors, their trials and difficulties, their successes and failures, their privations and triumphs have furnished to the bards and historians of ancient and modern times the themes from whence sprang forth those strains of choice literary thought which have tended to national and racial unity, and aroused the spirit of martial and civic conquests.
    Greek, Roman, Macedonian, Persian, Ottoman, European and American, Buddhist, Brahmanist, Mohammedan, Jew and Christian have been electrified by the recital of epics and sonnets from the pens of their poets, which portrayed the deeds of grandeur performed by the leaders of their respective clan or sect; a Homer or Virgil, a Tennyson or a Longfellow, a Milton or a Shakespeare has attuned his lyre to a note which struck a responsive chord in the breasts of his countrymen and incited them to noble deeds. But the harp of the Ethiopian bard whose melodious notes shake off the lethargy of centuries remaineth unstrung, and his tale of weal and woe untold.
    Among poets and writers of renown, Ethiopia's sons and daughters are found. Their writings have charmed and astonished the world, but the theme of their songs and verses was directed to humorous and solemn points in the lives of men, while the story of Ethiopia's dusky sons remained untold. Phyllis Wheatley and Paul Laurence Dunbar will hold a place among the most renowned of the world's great poets. They were the real poets, endowed with genius and ability whose places may never be filled. It is to be regretted that one or both of them did not direct their lives to the happenings of their race. This book (though poorly written) is intended to give the Negro a chance to hear the story of the lowly Ethiopian in bondage and freedom, in prosperity and adversity, in war and in peace, given in rhythmic cadence from the pen of one of her sons.
    The author has attempted to answer those critics who find so much to condemn in the Negro's political and civil history. His highest ambition has been to awaken the slumbering spirit of race pride, and if possible to unify the forces now striving to win by individual effort, so that the weight of their joint influence and the strength of their numbers may work to the betterment of their position in the land of their birth. He has dared to hope that the "Harp of Ethiopia" may arouse the sluggish pulse of the nation to a realization of the fact that the tree of liberty planted by the blood and suffering of the fathers and founders of the republic is being stealthily uprooted by the law-defying populace, and questionable decisions of the courts of justice. Repetitions may appear in some places, but examination will show at first a mere statement of facts and the last an explanation, or defense of the same proposition. The writer disclaims any intention to excite the passions of the members of his race or to stir the animosity of the most sensitive of other races. "The Harp of Ethiopia" is intended to state the facts bluntly, but politely, that the position of the Negro may be understood and that his case may have an impartial hearing at the bar of public opinion.
                                                                                                The Author.


    I have known the author of this unpretentious and unheralded volume for fully twenty-five years. He was quite a while in public life in North Carolina and enjoyed the distinction of being a member of the state legislature from his native county, Caswell, where he was born March 31, 1859. He was educated at Shaw University, Raleigh. N. C.
    He was always a modest, cautious, thoughtful and useful man and citizen and won the respect and confidence of all good citizens of all races. As a teacher in his county and leader of his people he always wielded an influence that gave him considerable power and prestige both in his county and his state. He was never given to much speech making, but always spoke pointedly and with a full knowledge of the subject in hand whenever he did speak. His modesty and urbanity always gave weight and significance to his words, which better orators could not carry. 
    Mr. Corbett has held a government position in Washington, D. C., for a number of years, and in the meantime has developed a literary turn of mind, chiefly versification. In this little volume the reader gets a glimpse of a trend of his thought and the more serious matter that harrows his soul. His plaints are vividly expressed and his words sincerely uttered. In lighter vein he reflects his natural bent for humor and good fellowship. He would seem severe in some of his maledictions where he appears to attack some erstwhile sincere and loyal friends, but as it is his opinion the responsibility is also his.
    We earnestly share his large faith and spirit of helpfulness which run through all his predictions and prophecies. Upon the whole, the volume possesses merit, and being his first attempt, Mr. Corbett should be encouraged to continue the exercises of a talent which is inborn and we may discern in him another hitherto mute-inglorious son of genius. We heartily commend the "Harp of Ethiopia" to all lovers of helpful reading and to all who are in sympathy with an ambitious and able author and a much handicapped and struggling race.
                                                                                                John C. Dancy,
                                                                                                            Washington, D. C.

The Harp Of Ethiopia.

The Present.
Beginning with Freedom in 65. Real.


Oh Lord of Hosts, my thoughts inspire,
My mind with lofty ideals fire,
My song attune, my theme direct,
Guide thou my pen, my words select,
Thy wisdom give, thy grace impart,
Let inspiration fill my heart;
My helpless self in thy arms hold,
While I this tale of woe unfold.

On my weak effort shed thy light,
Courage impart, remove all fright;
Let latent powers within me wake,
Proneness to error from me take.
My tongue endow with proper speech,
Increase my wisdom, I beseech;
Me deluge with the needful aid,
Uphold me lest I be dismayed.

Address to the Harp.

Awake, O harp, and ring out clear,
Thy mournful notes let all men hear;
Start from Creation's early morn,
Speak ye to nations yet unborn,
In blood and sorrow do thou trace
The tortuous journey of a race
From superstition's vile discord,
Unto the knowledge of our Lord.

Of its beginning do thou ring,
Of its past glory, proudly sing,
Sing of its kingdoms perished gone,
Sing of its arts first to us known,
Sing of its architectural skill,
How nature yielded to its will;
Tell how as conquering warriors grand,
Subdued they all adjacent land.

Tell how in pomp and splendor bright,
Its haughty rulers did delight,
To dazzle with their wealth and gold,
The world's important kingdoms old.
Tell how the art to read and write
Its dusky solons brought to light;
Of all its lofty grandeur tell,—
Just how it rose and why it fell.

Sing thou of past Egyptian lore,
The greatest in the days of yore;
Sing thou of Sheba's noted state,
And how her queen did captivate
With matchless beauty and with grace
The ruler of the Hebrew race.
The wisest of all men most wise,
'And now he did her idolize.

Of Carthagena's power sing,
How she did consternation bring
Unto the rulers of proud Rome,
When to her gates its arms had come.
Tell how the moors did capture Spain,
Although her warriors tried in vain
To break the fierce oppressor's yoke
With axe and spear and sabre stroke.

Sing Ethiopia's checkered past,
How once she was an empire vast,
Known and respected in all lands,
Tribute receiving from the hands
Of kings, who lived in mortal dread,
Lest they should hear the martial tread
Of dusky warriors fully bent
Upon their speedy punishment.

Sing loud of Babylonia's pride,
How she all nations long defied;
Their captive king triumphant led,
Her rule o'er their dominion spread.
Bring forth lost Shinae's sabled sons,
Who ranked among the noble ones,
Enthroned, triumphant, in that hour,
Hamitic races were a power.

Sing how in Afric's burning clime,
Idolatry became sublime,
It bowed the knee to stock and stone,
Jehovah's sceptre did disown.
Tell how from learning soon they turn
And heathen worship's torches burn;
Of all their cruel tortures tell,
And how they did their brethren sell.

Tell how, at length, another race,
Across the briny deep, did trace
Her way to Afric's sunny shores,
Her cup of vengeance on it pours.
Tell how in sorrow, blood and tears
These cruel strangers did for years
Shoot down like dogs women and men,
And a brisk trade in slaves begin.

Tell how, in prison ships they bore
These black men to the white-man's shore;
Like cattle, crowded in the hold,
Shipped over to be bought and sold;
How the winds wafted back their groans,
How the deep glistened with their bones
Of their death by starvation tell,
How slavery is the child of hell.

Tell how like cattle they were bred,
How meanly they were housed and fed;
How they no marriage rights enjoyed,
And how their morals were destroyed.
How slaves the planters' wives became,
In everything except in name;
Tell how these planters, heartless, cold,
Debased, wicked, their children sold.

Tell how the overseer's whip
With human blood would often drip;
Tell how patrols all hours of night,
In chasing them took great delight.
Tell of the slaves who ran away,
While at their heels did bloodhounds bay.
How masters lived in mortal dread,
And slaves in ignorance were reared.

Tell how they fashioned wood and steel,
How toiled they in the cotton field;
How they did massive forests fell,
How bridged they stream in vale and dell.
How they the grain did sow and reap,
How they their masters' stock did keep;
How books and papers were denied,
How sorely was their patience tried.

Tell how, at length, they prayed to God
To lift the weight of their great load.
Of speeches of Fred Douglass tell,
How he his eager hearers held
Spellbound, with matchless eloquence,
While weilding telling blows against
The shameful curse of slavery,
And pleading that all men be free.

Sing of the men who wrote and spoke
Against the galling slavery yoke;
Forget not Harriet Beecher Stowe,
Who dealt it such a telling blow.
Sing of the fate of old John Brown,
Who wears to-day a martyr's crown.
Tell how, at length, Secession's hand
Wrought consternation in this land.

Sing how a rebel cannon shell
At Sumpter, sounded the death-knell
Of trafficking in human lives
Thrusting apart husbands and wives.
Tell how Abe Lincoln tried in vain
To coax the rebels back again;
How all his overtures were spurned
While on his troops their guns wers turned.

Tell how, at length, in Sixty-three,
Lincoln the slaves proclaimeth free;
Tell how they hastened from the farms,
And begged permission to bear arms.
Their deeds as soldiers do thou tell,
How, facing cannons, fighting, fell,
How charged they on the battle-field
And hand to hand met steel with steel.

Sing praise of those who at home stayed,
Who fervently for freedom prayed.
But who protected with their lives
Their masters' daughters, sons and wives.
Tell how when freedom came at last,
Their hearts with sorrow were downcast;
That from their masters they must part,
And for themselves in life must start.

Tell how without a stock or stone,
That they could justly call their own,
They started, and with courage bold,
Their place in life as men to hold.
Tell how for knowledge they did yearn,
How soon to read and write did learn.
Tell how they sought to renovate
The south, by war made desolate.

Tell how they hailed the right to vote,
How did they on their freedom dote;
Sing thou of ill-designing men,
Who did the blackman's woe begin
By being put in many a place,
Which they soon covered with disgrace.
Tell how they stole the funds of state
And left their friends disconsolate.

Sing of their sturdy loyalty
To those who fought to make them free;
Sing how they fell under the ban
Of the detested Ku Klux Klan.
Tell how, almost in every town,
For party's sake they were shot down;
Tell how they went to legislate
In Congress halls and native state.

Tell how, while facing adverse blows,
The South made blossom as a rose,
By increased value of the farms,
From labor produced their arms.
Tell how from poverty they come,
Masters of money, farm and home;
Tell of their schools for training thought,
Which foes have tried to bring to naught.

Sing of their educated men,
Who 'stonished earth, with tongue and pen.
Of their mechanics do you sing,
How make they drill and hammer ring;
How the professions vainly tried
To keep them from their domain wide.
Then tell how while the nation slept
Their rights as men were from them swept.

Sing of the nation's fearful stench,
Caused by the victims of Judge Lynch;
How men of Russian horrors prate
With worse conditions at their gate.
How colored men have never struck
Nor set on fire their landlord's truck.
How stood they with stern and peaceful face
While foreign labor took their place.

Tell how each sovereign Southern state
Against their rights did legislate;
Them justice in the courts denied,
On Jim Crow cars, them forced to ride.
How shot down on the least pretense,
Accused, but given no defense,
How songs of liberty are hushed
And how their spirits have been crushed.

Sing of the nation's sad decay,
Whose Magna Charta is today
Rejected, trampled and despised,
Though acts of treason are disguised
By subterfuges in the law,
Wherein each lawyer finds a flaw;
Sing how our statesmen false have grown
While weaklings to the fore have gone.

Sing of the dearth of party ties,
As each to fool the people tries;
Tell how they take their country's flag,
It in the dust, polluted, drag.
Tell how each day the people go
Upon a seething volcano;
Whose noxious fumes once put in play
Will cause this nation to decay.

Sing of the Hamite's future state,
Whether must stay or emigrate;
Whether must sit contented by
While everyone his rights deny.
Whether when tortured on the rack
In desperation must strike back;
Whether again they'll be made slaves,
Or £11 in honor heroes' graves.

Whether they will that adage know,
"Who would be free, must strike the blow;"
Whether emancipate the race
Or others help themselves efface.
Whether on others will depend,
Or stubbornly their rights defend;
Whether be driven to exile
Giving up cherished hopes the while.

Whether be true those words adored,
"The pen is mightier than the sword,"
Or whether true e'er since the flood,
Keform ne'er cometh without blood.
Ring out, let nothing be concealed,
Sing out till all our wrongs are healed;
Let old earth echo back the sound,
Until real justice doth abound.

Let nothing hush thy solemn notes,
Ham deep conviction down the throats
Of statesmen, churchmen and the bar,
Until is risen hope's bright star.
Sing while the thread of life doth last,
Ring till we weather death's cold blast,
Sing till we slumber 'neath the sod
And answer roll call unto God.

The Harp Awaking.

And lo, from out of space is heard
Attractive sounds but not a word,
Soft, enchanting, muffled, low,
And rippling, as from steady flow
Of brooklet o'er a stony bed,
Or if it was the stealthy tread
Of prowling beast in search of prey
Or sighing winds that die away.

Sounds that ghastly phantoms make,
When from their charnel house they take
Nocturnal visits to Life's shores,
And stop not for the strongest doors.
Sounds like silvery bells a clanging,
Sounds like tightening bowstrings twanging,
Sounds as heard by caged bird
When its prisoned soul is stirred.

'Tis the minstrel harp awaking
And the dust of centuries shaking,
From the strings so long in hiding,
And with constant faith abiding.
All the ages past reviewing,
And its broken threads renewing
'Tis the soul of the muse arising
From its grave and us advising.

From beginning of creation
To its limits of duration,
Every phase of Canaan's journey,
Which is like the ancient tourney
With its honored knights contending,
And their ladies fair defending;
Till they bettered man's condition
And raised women in position.

Thus the harp awakened speaketh,
And with good intent it seeketh
Man to teach a useful lesson.
And with force attempts to press on
The minds of Ham's, ill-used descendants
On themselves place their dependence.
Listen, ye people, to each word,
For ne'er was sadder singing heard.

The Harp's Song Begun.

Hark, oh men, to my story long,
Which to thee I give in verse and song,
Let all creation lend an ear,
Silence all sounds that men may hear:
Let callous nations read their doom,
As back to life, I, from the tomb,
Nations long perished do now call
To tell the story of their fall.

Let witness answer from on high
That I beguile thee with no lie.
Let blackened, hideous, burning hell
Lend cursed spirits, back to tell
What shameful deeds condemned their souls,
And why its fiery portals holds
Their souls as captives, bound in chains,
Their cries for ease the Lord disdains.


Long, long before old earth was hung
Upon its axis, or was swung,
Nature's curtain of azure hue,
Or stormy winds, from chaos drew
Their first, untamed, life-giving breath,
Or had been known the monster, death,
When light and earth from nothing sprang,
And morning stars together sang,

The Past.

And sons of God shouted for joy,
Or sin's foul curse did but destroy
The things in nature held most dear,
Or snow-capped mountain peak did rear
Its glistening summit to the sun,
The Eternal Godhead three in one,
In Teman, shaped redemption's plan,
And then made like Him erring man.

Upright and holy was he made,
To revel in the cooling shade
Of Eden's garden; lovely, fair;
To reign unchecked, creation's heir.
To hold subjected to his will,
The fowls of air and the beasts that still
Are kept submissive to his power,
To do his bidding every hour.

Stationed within this pure retreat,
And bidden of its fruits to eat,
Except the fruit of just one tree,
Which was; most beautiful to see;
Yet weak man disobeyed and fell,
No longer was allowed to dwell
In Eden holy; but instead,
Must toil to earn his daily bread.

Soon he began to multiply
And learned also that he must die;
Because of Father Adam's sin,
No peace could he expect within.
But man got farther from his God,
And ruthlessly, His mercies trod
Under his vile, accursed feet,
And, beggar, came to mercy's seat

Justice demanded human blood.
And God, in anger, sent a flood,
Which earth of living creatures swept ,
Leaving no remnant here except
One Noah who saved his family,
Consisting of his wife and three
Sons, Shem by name, Japheth and Ham,
Who, in mercy, he did not damn.

From these three boys have all men sprung,
Each nation kindred, race and tongue;
Beginning from one common blood,
The bound and free, the bad and good,
Went forth the world to populate,
And the wide seas to navigate.
Young Shem showed no desire to roam,
But chose old Asia for his home.

Chose Japheth Europe as his own,
Where since supreme his sons have grown.
Ham chose old Afric's lurid skies
To be his earthly paradise.
His flocks found pastures by the Nile,
Where dwelt the clumsy crocodile.
His lot was cast on fertile soil,
Which yielded food without much toil.


From nature fruitful vines had sprung,
And trees with rich fruit laden hung;
The busy bees their honey stowed,
And trees were found from which milk flowed.
The stars by night their vigil kept,
And cooling streams placidly swept
Down mountainside to far sea shore,
A means of transit evermore.

Grazing upon these mountain slopes
Were gazelles, deer and antelopes;
The buffalo and Afric bear,
The mountain goat and timid hare.
The trees were filled with singing birds
And gnus roamed o'er the plains in herds;
Giraffes took food from lofty trees,
And ostrichs mate in cooling breeze.

Anon, each sylvan vale is stirred,
Awed, silenced, stilled when there is heard
The distant roar of the king of beasts,
While searching prey on which to feast;
Leviathans feed on vast cane-brakes;
While in the bushes, hideous snakes
Glide silently from place to place,
And other reptiles for food chase.

'Twas here that young Ham pitched his tent,
But his offspring's were not content
To spend their lives in one lone spot,
But soon began this land to dot
With many cities rich and strong,
And each a fortress which ere long
Unites with other settlements
And formed the ancient governments.

Negro Peoples of Antiquity.

Memphis, a ruling city stood
When mighty Rome was standing wood;
Meroe, in commerce took a part
Before old Greece was on the chart.
Had Shinar's glory passed away
Before proud Britain had her day.
Thebes stood in grandeur long before
Old Troy importance held in store.

Was Babylon an empire vast,
Ere Macedonia had cast
Her warlike pennant to the breeze,
Or other lands began to seize.
Proud Carthage flourished like a rose
About the time had Grecians chose
The spot on which was Athens reared,
Or her victorious warriors cheered.


Egypt first taught letters to man,
And her wise rulers then began
National government to form,
And distant citadals to storm.
She held communion with the stars;
Crowded her ports with seasoned spars
Of gallant ship from each known land,
Which at that time, man's eyes had scanned.

By sons of Ham were founded these
Cities, and empires which were keys
Which opened civilization's door
From whence the seeds of ancient lore,
Enlightened nations permeate
And mother earth illuminate
With wisdom's grand inspiring light,
Which maketh day of darkest night.

Thus Ham's descendants now despised
Heiroglyphics first devised,
Which have improved with every age,
Until, today, the proudest page
Of any nation's history
Is that which holds the registry
Of noble deeds of worthy men,
As handed down by book and pen.

Astronomy is a lost art,
Recovered now only in part,
From what it was in former years
When by this means Egyptian seers
Not only taught time of eclipse,
Or rain, and wind, and measured trips
Of moon and stars around the sun,
And where the comets' course would run.

But by the stars would they foretell
Of births, and deaths, and coming spell
Of pestilence, and bloody wars,
Of dearth of grain, and tell the cause
Of adverse fate, or great success,
Or, when the land would see distress
Swoop down upon it like a pall
And spread its black wings over all.

But Egypt's granduer was not known
Because of her wise men alone,
For Persia, Media, and the rest
Of Eastern lands, can well attest
Unto her military skill,
And how did she her coffers fill
With gold, which they as tribute gave
The crowns of their own kings to save.

Babylonian warriors pitched their tents
In all adjacent settlements.
And captive kings triumphant, led,
Their soldiers brave to wild beasts fed;
Their children bore away as slaves,
While others hid themselves in caves.
Foremost among this captive throng,
Were Israel's children servants long.


Carthage, her grandeur had set forth
Before the people of the North;
They saw, they coveted, they came
To drive her from the halls of fame.
Down swept these conquering Northern hosts,
Whose leading generals made loud boasts
Her walls to raise, her wealth to take
And the power of her kingdoms break.

For many years the land was rife
With scenes of war and blood and strife;
The torch to house and grain applied,
Woman and child quarters denied.
The gentle maid, the babe, the old,
With hoary heads, in death lay cold,
Having been pierced by spear and sword,
For those stern men no mercy showed.

Met they in combat first the Greeks
In Sicily, where deafening shrieks
Of wounded men and women fair
In fright and sorrow rent the air.
After two centuries had passed
The Carthaginians were at last
In full possession of the Isle
And on their arms could rest a while.

Few were the years she had of peace,
A power greater by far than Greece.
Her fame had heard, and vow did make,
By arms, her fertile lands to take.
Thus Rome without apparent cause
Began those awful Punic wars,
When strife, and carnage, like a flood,
Deluged that land with human blood.

Proud Rome her strongest legions sent
Well officered and fully bent
Upon the speedy overthrow
Of Carthage, by one sudden blow.
In these fierce conflicts Greek met Greek,
While hill and dale and mountain peak,
Forest and distant cave resound
From year to year, with martial sound.

Hanno attacked the hosts of Rome,
Bat found he could not drive them home;
Then did the gallant Hasdrubal
With mighty force upon them fall;
But like the ceaseless drops of rain,
Those Roman legions would again
In haste, fill up depleted ranks
With men obtained from Tiber's banks.

Then came the valiant Hamilcar,
The hero of a former war,
Who strove to wrest his monarch's lands
From fire and sword and prowling bands
Of Roman subjects, whose sole aim
Was that they might bow down with shame
This hated rival nation's head,
And plant the power of Rome instead.

He, like his predecessors, failed
His seasoned warriors were assailed
In front and flank, both horse and foot,
Until completely put to route.
Then came the peerless Hannibal,
The greatest general of them all,
The ages, peoples, lands and climes,
Whether ancient or modern times.

Like avalanche on mountain slope,
With which no living thing can cope,
He down upon the Romans bore,
And swept them' from his country's shore,
Nor was he with this feat content,
But with desire for punishment
He took his troops away from home
To burn and waste the lands of Rome.

When but a youth, his life was spent
With soldiers 'neath his father's tent;
He mastered every act of war,
Was schooled to hate the Romans, for
His father to the temples led
Him daily, with uncovered head,
And made him swear whate'er might come,
Eternal enmity to Rome.

Then Hamilcar, his father, dies,
And to his son the nation flies;
And begged that he would have the grace
To serve them in his father's place.
The scattered forces gathered he
And sent them to the north by sea;
The towering Alps his legions crossed,
And Rome's proud soldiers were unhorsed.

For years fought he on Roman soil,
His troopers heaped themselves with spoil
Of Roman wealth of gold and grain.
So battled they till they had slain
Hundreds of thousands of the foe,
And that proud land was filled with woe.
And for a time her power crushed,
And her loud shouts of triumph hushed.

The whole empire he swept across,
Without his having ever lost
One battle to his gallant foe,
Whose ranks gave way like melted snow
Beneath the piercing rays of sun,
When fierce Numidian charge was done,
And Carthaginian sword and spear
Had pierced their ranks from van to rear.

And yet this mighty warrior died
With leading wish ungratified.
He lived to see the laws of Rome
Again ascendant at his home.
Although for years he had assailed
Her strongest forts, he found he'd failed
Her soldiers' song of war to hush,
Or her desire for conquest crush.

'Mongst empires old, Sheba is seen,
Whose very wise and lovely queen
Journeyed to distant Hebrew land,
That she be privileged to stand
Before the wise King Solomon,
And face to face to call upon
Him there to prove that he had right
To be called wisdom's leading light.

Questions and tests she freely plied
Until her mind was satisfied
That not the half was ever told
Of his great wisdom, power and gold.
And he with her was so impressed
That she became by his request
A favorite and loving wife,
The pride of his declining life.

We mention next the warlike Moors,
Like swarming bees their army corps
O'er Spanish coast and Spanish, main,
Village and dell, mountain and plain,
Their shining tents in triumph spread,
While placing tribute on the head
Of Spanish peasant, knight and lord,
Who stood in awe of Moorish sword.

For generations Spain was ruled
By them, and there her soldiers schooled
Into the Moorish arts of war.
And from that stock began to draw
By intermarriage, Moorish pluck,
While budded her fame as a flower.
And then for liberty she struck,
Freeing herself from Moorish power,

Each country, city, nation, tribe,
And settlement, which I describe
Vaguely, in tedious lines above
Is history from which we prove
The former power of this race,
Thus forming links by which you trace
Them from their proud exalted state
Through bondage to their present state.

Negroes were they, or of mixed blood,
Peoples' within whose veins there flowed
The dark rich blood of Ethiop's sons,
A tiny stream of which now runs
In Spanish, French and Latin stock,
A glaring fact with which we'll shock
The sensitive who claim to be
Of unmixed blood of first degree.

Blood Power.

One drop of blood of Negro race
Has always been enough to place
Its owner 'mongst the sons of Ham.
Really, I must admit I am
Puzzled, befogged, anxious to know
The reason why this should be so;
Because in every other case
Negroes are called the weaker race.

If his blood is stronger why not he,
In physique and mentality?
Since cross of breeds, makes heartier stock,
Cattle or fowl, why do we mock
Nature's great law, when say we men
By amalgamation soon begin
In all things to deteriorate
And be a menace to the state?

Search the whole world for a hardier race
Than these found dwelling on the face
Of our American continent,
A splendid race of mixed descent.
Indian, Norseman, and hated Jew,
German, Frenchman, and Irish, too,
And English, Spaniard, Negro, Greek
Are friends and neighbors, so to speak.

Where's, then the Anglo-Saxon race
That the unthinking populace
Take so much trouble to declare
That they must see preserved with care?
This is the Mecca for all breeds,
All tongues, all colors, and all creeds,
That dwell on land or hawsers drag,
Which forms one nation 'neath one flag.

Retrogression Begins.

Why ramble thus? Methinks I've strayed
Far from the theme which I essayed
By ancient history to prove
That Ham's descendants once did move
The world in science, and in art,
In letters, war and busy mart,
Where earth's supplies were bought and sold
With stock and grain, silver and gold.

Long was their reign, great was their power!
Their maidens charming as a flower.
With trees and vines that rich fruit yield,
Cattle and grain on fertile field,
Their ships in triumph rode the seas
With banners floating to the breeze;
Servants and wealth had they galore,
Their names were feared the known world o'er.

Burnt they sweet incense to their gods;
Ruled they their lands with iron rods;
Pictures and paintings decked their halls;
Cities were circled by strong walls;
In silken robes were nobles clad;
Diamonds and pearls were all the fad
With those who held the reins of state,
Laces, their garments decorate.

Their self-made gods they magnified,
While they the living God defied.
They worshiped wild beasts, stocks and stone,
Jehovah's laws did they disown;
Fetish and trick took place of prayer.
And next they stripped their persons bare,
Their priests, for human slaughter stood
And drenched their gods with human blood.

Letters and books they cast aside
For spear and sword and toughened hide,
Of slaughtered beasts fashioned to shields,
Then took themselves to battle-fields.
Made they themselves equal with beasts,
When human flesh adorned their feasts.
From ruling nations soon they fell
To lowest depths—an earthly hell.

No pen nor picture can describe
The savage battles tribe with tribe;
How old and young were foully slain
That they might forge the galling chain
Of slavery on their captured foes,
While death claims those who them opposed.
Women and men, the young and old,
Were by black men to black men sold.

For centuries, thus plodded they
Bereft of one redeeming ray
Of Hope's august inspiring light
With which to eradicate the blight
Of ignorance and superstition,
Of base ideals and lost ambition,
Of moral stamina and vice,
And seeds of innate cowardice.

Stagnant and cold on life's vast stage
Were Afric's sons for age on age.
Their lamps of wisdom bare of oil,
Their dusky sons shirking from toil,
Their women treated as if serfs,
Their children cast off as if scurfs
Upon life's busy, frothy sea,
Well trained in all brutality.

The Slaver Arrives.

Upon her coasts a ship is seen
With spreading sails and peaceful mien,
Bringing to them another race,
With flowing locks and pale of face.
Bringing to them the blasting breath
Of slavery's curse and horrid death;
Bringing God's curse because of sin,
In trusting gods fashioned by men.

Bringing dishonesty and vice,
For which they paid the awful price
Of bondage in a foreign land,
While at their doors a native band
With gun and sword, butcher and kill
Women and men that they might fill
The slaver's ship with wretched souls
At captains will like fish on shoals.

The hearts were many that they broke,
Many a prince who bore the yoke
Of cruel bondage, who till then
Had dominated over men,
But now is he himself in chains;
His faith in cherished idols wanes
He and his servant side by side
Are claimed, which breaks his haughty pride.

And now they walk the fatal plank
Of anchored ship mid constant clank;
Of heavy chains which bind them fast,
While terror-struck they look aghast
Upon the ship and boundless sea,
But find no means by which to flee
From captor's hand to native shore,
Where they could be with loved ones more.

So in their agony they moan,
They tear their flesh they utter groan
On groan, then tug they at their chains;
They call their gods, they rack their brains,
They howl and curse, they laugh, they weep,
They take no food, they cannot sleep.
They find escape useless to try,
And in despair they wish to die.

Like cattle crowded in the hole
Were they shipped over to be sold,
With stagnant air, gasp they for breath,
While hundreds gladly welcome death.
Like stricken cattle, hundreds died
While cruel captors vainly tried
By force and threats to keep them hale
That they might profit by their sale.

But still they, died like strickened sheep
And hungry monsters of the deep
Followed the ship by night and day,
Knowing full well they'd have for prey
A ghastly corpse, a lifeless worm,
That living walked in human form.
They threshed the waves with tails, they fought,
Until their cherished food was brought.

As course across the desert sands
Is traced by bones of Arab bands
Comprising yearly caravan,
So would the bones of captive man
Mark course across the trackless deep,
Were it but possible to keep
Them floating in the self-same spot
And huge sea monsters harmed them not.

Yet more survived than those that died,
Who soon began to cast aside
All thoughts of freedom, home and gods,
And try to understand the nods
And signs, by present masters given
Rather than be with lashes driven
To rouse them from their lethargy
And learn the ways of slavery.

Thus after being tempest tossed
For week on week, their old ship crossed
The mighty ocean with her load
Of human merchandise aboard.
Who trod on unfamiliar soil
On which must each for decades toil
To fill the coffers of his lord
Without one farthing of reward.

Like cattle are they made to breed,
That men may have their tender seed;
Trained in the ways they'd have them know,
Trained in the use of plow and hoe,
Trained in the use of cutlery,
And every kind of drudgery.
Trained up to honor and obey
White persons, whether young or gray.

In small log huts women and men
Were forced to dwell like pigs in pen;
Their forms exposed, their passions fed
Licentiously, untamed, unwed.
All women were by owners told
They must bear child or else be sold;
For each young Negro born in health,
Meant quite a boost to master's wealth.

Masters became the worst of knaves
By their adultery with their slaves.
They beat and drove them in the day
While after dark they snugly lay
Themselves in dusky damsels arms,
Taking delight in secret charms,
And from the pair were children born,
Who soon received their father's scorn.

Thus some slave owners, heartless, cold,
To other men their own sons sold,
Sent them adrift, disowned, despised,
To keep their parentage disguised;
Sent them like Ishmael from their doors
So that they may subdue the roars
Of pent up wrath of irate wives,
Who saw a shadow cross their lives.

Others retained them, on the farm,
Who soon found reason for alarm,
In unchecked love of sons, for slaves,
Both of his loins. Thus like fierce waves
Of angry deep, 'gainst ship or rocks,
This brand of enforced lewdness knocks
The prop from moral rectitude,
And fills the land with turpitude.

Search as you may, 'tis hard to find
A Negro of the purest kind,
Whose Afric lineage you trace
In woolly locks and sooty face.
Or whose black cheeks will show no shame
When he repeats his family name;
Whose dusky face will show to earth
That he descends from unmixed birth.

Scarcely a Southerner today
Who can with truth and honor say
That he escaped the immoral flood,
Of close kinship to Negro blood.
The rich, the poor, the middle class,
The haughty lords, the common mass,
All have close relatives (though poor)
Amongst those black men by the score.

Some planters calmly spent their lives
With colored women as their wives;
Not legal wives could these men show,
Because the laws were worded so
That no white man could take as wife
A Negro woman on his life;
Could not by any process wed,
So that they honor marriage bed.

These mistresses were given right
To rule the slaves by day and night;
Could have their persons bound and stripped
And with the bloody rawhide whipped;
Could favor, tyrannize, and scold,
Could give them power, or have them sold,
in short, were given the same sway
That legal wives had in that day.

Negro Labor.

But back to subject let us go,
And with the pen, attempt to show
How slaves, with aptitude and zeal
Soon skill acquired to fashion steel
Into plows, scythes and reaping blades,
Shovels and hoes, axes and spades;
To form horse-shoes, wedges and nails
Weld wagon tires and hoops for pails.

Repair all tools, and, for the sons
Of masters, fashion locks for guns.
In short, 'twas simply by their aid
The tools that brought forth wealth were made.
While black hands, with those plows and hoes,
Were seen in lengthy cotton rows,
Turning the soil or breaking clods,
And picking fibre from ripe pods.

Others take axes, wedge and maul
And on the giant forests fall;
Till vast expanse of land is cleared,
And crops are pitched and cities reared;
They hew the pillars and the beams
Which span the bridges o'er the streams;
They plant the vines and dig the ditch,
And southern planters soon enrich

They sow the seeds of oats and wheat,
They plant the corn and kill the meat,
They harvest fields of ripened grain,
They press the sugar from the cane.
They raise much sought tobacco crop,
They build the massive dam to stop
The water for the wheels of mills
That grind the grain, or houses build.

They tend the sheep and feed the stock,
They dig the marl and blast the rock,
They build the barn and dig the ditch,
They blaze the pine and make the pitch.
They build the forts, and these same slaves
Fight fiercely-painted Indian braves,
Who seek to take their masters' lives,
And keep as squaws their loving wives.


They worked in hunger and in cold,
They bore hardships like soldiers bold.
A sullen look was an offense
And no one spoke in their defense
When overseer's plaited whip
With their warm blood would often drip
If they the rock-bound custom broke,
And for themselves acted or spoke.

The dreaded overseer's place
Was filled in almost every case
With the worst class of poor white men
Who scorned to work, but who had been
Distinguished for brutality,
And wanting in morality.
They had no Negroes of their own
And loathed them for this cause alone.

Runaway Slaves.

And some slaves maddened by their lot
Would vow to leave the cursed spot
In quest of freedom; but behold!
Soon in their veins the blood ran cold!
For while in sheltered nook they lay,
They heard the unmistaking bay
Of blood-hounds, hot upon their trail,
But rushed they on like frightened quail.

Plunged they into the tangled brakes
Amongst wild beasts and poisonous snakes;
Across large streams and bogs they fly
Vowing freedom to gain or die,
But in the distance, still they hear
The bay of blood-hound drawing near.
They hear their master's eager shout
Urging the dogs to drive them out.

Soon do they feel the biting pangs
Of pain, as horrid blood-hounds' fangs
Bury themselves in quivering flesh
And down they fall into the mesh
Of tangled vines, mangled and sore
From whence they rise not evermore,
For those fierce monsters suck their blood
And leave them in their solitude.

And some in swollen streams were drowned
And others caught and firmly bound
And whip was plied to naked backs
While their warm blood flowed in their tracks.
Others with clubs kept hounds at bay
Until at length they got away
From cursed lot of slavery
Tq cherished spot of liberty.

Chief of the class that got away
And live in history today
Are Attucks, Walker, Douglass, Poor,
*Henry "Box Brown" and thousands more*
Of uncalled, unsought, untamed souls
Who strayed from home like sheep from folds,
Escaping beasts and savage bands,
And falling into friendly hands.

Who can describe the close, close, shaves
From captor's hands; or early graves
By water, famine, snake and beast?
Praise they deserve to say the least.
Their zealous efforts clearly prove,
How deep indeed is human love
Of liberty at any cost,
For life without it is but dross.

They had no safe, secure retreat
Where they could rest their weary feet
Aware that freedom had been won;
For place of refuge there was none.
Like fox that doubles on his track,
To shake from trail the howling pack
Of hounds, so dodge and double they,
Until at length they get away.

A rigid law had Congress made
Declaring that no one should aid,
Abet, hide, harbor or defend
A fleeing slave, but apprehend,
Deter, capture and advertise
Him thoroughly, color and size,
Hair, eyes, and feet, his height and name,
That owner might present his claim.

But found they many noble friends
Who harbored them in caves and dens,
Fed them then helped them on their way,
And for their safe deliverance pray.
Had they been caught there was no bail,
They would have spent a time in jail,
Then pay a fine, and furthermore
Make oath to shield them, nevermore.

They thought that human brother-hood
From Adam sprang—and men one blood.
They did not know, they could not see
How man got his authority
Brothers to shackle at his will,
To beat, to drive, to sell, to kill,
To strip of rights to all men due
Without regard to race or hue.

These men had sought to know the Lord,
And felt they got from his dear Word
Just cause to aid men when they saw
These words engraved in sacred law—
"To other men be sure to do
As you would have them do to you."
"He that contributes to the poor
Lends to the Lord, and shall have more."

"He that heaps man with charity
Doeth a favor unto me."
"The merciful, blessed is he
For mercy shall his portion be."
"He that sows kindness in my name
Abundantly shall reap the same."
"Turn not the hungry from thy door
But widows aid and sick and poor."

And other scriptures had they read
Of like import which made them dread
More the displeasure of the Lord
Than with man's laws not to accord;
Feared more the pangs of death and hell
Than shackles of a felon's cell
Rather to hear the Lord's "well done"
Than bask in rays of social sun.

Negro Religion.

Thus slaves were led from heathen ways
To know the Lord and chant his praise
For the fond hope his word had given
That Jesus had prepared in heaven
A place of rest—a loving home
For those who'd cease from him to roam
Who'd war against the Devil's arts
And give to him their contrite hearts.

Some Christian owners, early sought
To have them know that Christ had bought
Their souls from endless misery,
By death upon the cursed tree;
That they had precious dying souls
That he would welcome in his fords,
Were they redeemed from death and hell
He'd take them home with him to dwell.

Some tried their consciences to deceive,
So that they might themselves believe,
That God, when laying out the plan
Of nature's universe for man,
Elected as his firm decree
That sons of Ham servants should be,
To Shem and Japheth's sons and wives
The whole of their unhappy lives.

They prayed to God to give them grace
Abundantly, that they might trace
The meanings of his holy word,
And if from it could be inferred
That bondage was against his will,
Or whether it brought good or ill
To those possessing or possessed,
Of slavery which caused unrest.

The minds of men were soon divided
Upon the point, and some decided
By will, to set their Negroes free;
Some let them buy their liberty;
But the great mass would not consent
To freedom as a settlement,
Or ease of conscience, but read they,
"Servants, their masters must obey "

The Revolutionary War.

This subject had to step aside,
Because the tyrant king had tried
To force upon their heads, taxation,
While giving them no representation.
To this, they failed to give assent,
But urged the people to resent
Injustice then upon them thrust.
To satisfy the British lust.

From ship took they boxes of tea,
Open, and cast them in the sea.
The speakers, bolder every breath,
Shouted for liberty or death.
England, her army prepared
To subjugate all those who dared
Boldly, attempt her laws defy,
And treason's banner bear on high.

On Boston Heights the redcoats stood,
While facing them, in angry mood,
Is gathered a determined band
Of colonists, with clubs in hand,
Vowing the soldiers had to go,
But, dreading all, to strike the blow
That must, from tyrants set them free,
Or multiply their misery.


The sturdy soldiers, solemn-browed,
Standing with loaded muskets, cowed
The bravest of this angry clan,
When there appears a Negro man,
Giant in form, and bravery
Who had escaped from slavery;
And none had better right than he
To strike down human tyranny.

He did not stop to meditate,
And on the danger speculate;
But bounding to the British line
Where bayonets gleam and muskets "shine,
He cried, "Brethren, why stand ye so?"
Forward' Strike down the hated foe!!!
Drive them from town as you desire,
Strike down their arms, they fear to fire!!!

And then a hero's place he won,
By striking down a soldier's gun,
Thus touching off the dreaded spark
To powder horn, which starts the bark
Of those rapacious dogs of war,
Which every man should dread by far
More than cyclones or pestilence,
For they destroy the best of friends.

The soldiers fired and Tttucks fell
As falls the faithful sentinel
Whose musket shot gives the alarm
To those in camp to rise and arm.
He fell first martyr to the cause
Of liberty and righteous laws.
He fell to wake the patriot's ire
And fill his soul with Freedom's fire.

Today a statue stands to tell
Where Attacks, Gray and Caldwell fell.
It stands, a token day and night
To prove that Negroes have a right
Upon the land to lay a claim,
By quit-claims, deed in Attacks' name;
They have a right assuredly
To sing "My country, 'tis of thee."

Bunker Hill.

The sound of fife and roll of drum,
Gave warning that the time had come
For vengeance on the hated foe,
Who dared to lay their comrades low
In death's embrace, and who must be
Driven across the spacious sea.
To Bunker's Hill the patriots hie,
And there begin to fortify.

For well their leaders understand
That Gage would give his men command
With bayonets, the hill to take,
And then those silly rebels rake
With cannon and with musket-ball,
Until, in penitence, they call
For mercy, and give promise, they
The laws of England will obey.

Began they soon to climb the hill
To drive the rebels back, but still,
Behind their works with bated breath
The peasants lie and wait for death.
"Reserve your fire" old Putnam cries,
"Until you see the whites of eyes
Of your oppressors, then aim well,
So that you make each bullet tell."

But when at last the British got
Within a few steps of the spot
For which they had a keen desire,
Old Putnam gave command to fire.
As falls the field of ripened grain
By reapers hands, so fall the slain
Vassals of distant British crown,
By sturdy yeomanry shot down.

Three times these works do they assault
And thrice their ranks are made to halt,
Then, down the hill retreat in shame,
Routed by that unerring aim
Of those despised militiamen,
With homespun garb and sunburned skin,
Who had, as means of self-defense
Been well taught how to use their flints.

Back came these red-coat lines again,
And the militia tried in vain
Adown the hill to drive them back.
But sadly did they fail for lack
Of powder, ball, and bayonet,
The need of which they soon regret,
For now they find that they must yield
To British guns, a well-earned field.

"Forward my boys, we've won the day,"
Cried Pitcairne, and then dead he lay,
Within the works, where he had got,
Before, by Peter Salem shot.
This Salem, and a Salem Poor,
And also several dozen more
Despised black men, some slaves, some free,
Battled that day for liberty.

And so throughout that long drawn strife,
Did many a black man yield his life,
In Freedom's cause, and for his pains,
Was heaped again with bondage's chains;
Though promised that he would be free
When war was done, deceived was he.
For liberty, the lash he got,
And Eight and Justice knew him not.

A Negro had with naked head,
Burst down the door, and pulled from bed
Prescott, a general of high rank,
When Major Barton played a prank
Upon his foes, as through the lines
With twenty men, Prescott he binds,
And back to camp in triumph bore
His prize, while British soldiers swore.

Likewise where-e'er upon the sea
Our navy gained a victory,
Among the men who manned the guns
And rigging, were the sable sons
Of Ham, sleeping amongst the dead,
Or holding high the victor's head;
Braving the storms and raging flood,
And buying manhood with their blood.

War of 1812.

In eighteen twelve, England possessed
With wanton deviltry, impressed
The sailors of the states, to man
Her battleships, and thus began
To try, the second time, to win
By force, her subjects back again
As tributaries to the throne,
Having no statutes of their own.

Again she placed on land and sea,
The best of British soldiery.
At length, at New Orleans they land,
With Packenham in full command.
Jackson, to meet him, had in haste,
Built works of cotton-bales, and placed
His eager soldiers, white and black,
In them, to drive the British back.

Ere there was smell of powder smoke,
Jackson, thus to his black troops spoke.
"Soldiers! Your general is proud
To find 'the nation is so loud
In praise of acts of gallantry,
Performed by you, on land and sea,
When we so nobly freed our lands
From avarice of tyrant hands."

"Well, did the black man do his part;
In action, brave, and stout of heart;
In cold, and hunger, side by side,
You, with the white troops bled and died.
And now my worthy comrades, I
Will not beguile you with a lie,
But swear, in all sincerity,
That if you win, you shall be free."

"Prove now your right to be made free,
By helping drive into the sea,
These hated red-coats, who, today,
Our homes will burn and bear away
As slaves,, your sons and wives, so dear
Unto your hearts. While you now bear
A freeman's arms, you have the right,
Your country's enemies to fight.

"Soldiers, our honored President,
And the great men, who represent
Our nation, in the halls of state,
Through me, shall know and venerate
Your deeds of valor! Look ye there!!!
The crafty enemy is near.
Forward!! Let everyone strike hard,
And victory is your reward."

They heard instructions, and obeyed
Their leaders voice, and, by their aid
The day, the young republic won,
And still, within it, there was none
Who for the colored soldiers stood
To plead their cause as well they should;
But praise was driven from their hearts
By noise of bidding in slave marts.


That these poor slaves should hatch a plot
Of insurrection, wondered not.
Had they not Britons swept from plains
To see themselves again in chains?
Had they not for their country died
To find its statesmen had all lied?
Had they not proven themselves men
Only to toil as beasts again?

So plotted they to strike a blow,
The white man's rule to overthrow,
By first depriving of their lives,
Masters, their daughters, sons and wives;
Seizing their lands and property,
Setting their own descendants free,
Starting a kingdom of their own,
And warning men leave them alone.

These risings failed, except a few,
Until, in eighteen thirty-two,
There sprang a Negro leader, who
Had nerve to dare, and mind to do;
Who claimed he was a prophet, sent
By God, to visit punishment
Upon the cruel sinful whites
As Israel did the Canaanites.

Thus, by declaring that the Lord
Had bidden him to take the sword,
And, with; it, he must surely kill
The whites, both old and young, until
Not one was left to tell the tale
That he had Negroes held for sale.
Nat Turner soon began to see
His thoughts take root quite rapidly.

Fifty and seven whites were killed, 
And thousands had their warm blood chilled
By this uprising of the blacks,
When heard they of those stunning facts,
That Negroes did for freedom thirst,
And masters should expect the worst
Of horrors poured upon their heads,
By slaves, while sleeping in their beds.

Nat Turner's insurrection failed,
But every Southern white face paled
When he discovered with what ease.
The blacks could murder, if they pleased
Each one of them1, without a thought
That in the act, they would be caught;
That slaves were only held in check
By weighty yokes upon the neck.

They felt the danger was immense;
That they must make in their defense,
Some law the slaves to separate,
So that they could not formulate
Their plans, which once should they succeed,
Could not be checked before they'd lead
What whites they'd left alive, as slaves,
Or heaped the Southland with their graves.

Nat died as every martyr dies,
Glad to become a sacrifice
To cause on which his heart is set,
If, by his dying, he could get
His fond ambition realized,
And whites become so terrorized
By his demoralizing blow,
That they would let their bondsmen go.


Nature's old law, self-preservation,
Is leading thought with men or nation.
When danger lurks in every breeze
Whether in foes or foul disease,
Men then begin to cast aside
The things which certainly divide
Their ranks, and into union come,
To best protect themselves and home.

Thus patrol bands were organized,
And by the law were authorized
To see that Negroes did not mass
Themselves, unless they had a pass
From masters granting them the right
To congregate at day or night;
And it must show the day and date
That they had asked to congregate.

Consent, most slaves did not receive,
So they began to take "french, leave,"
Of their task-masters, after dark,
And, cautiously start on a lark,
To home of lover, wife or friend,
When down upon them would descend
Like hungry wolves upon their prey,
These patrol bands, to their dismay.

Slaves caught by them of clothes Were stripped,
And with the rawhide soundly whipped,
Without regard to sex or age,
The state of health or mighty rage
Of the offender, neither cared,
Their masters try to have them spared,
That thing called "slavery" must abide
Though every slave should loose his hide.

Patrols would often horses ride,
And slaves, to trees, stout grape vines tied,
So as to reach a rider's waist,
Then patrols call, and flee in haste,
Would start the riders in pursuit,
When suddenly they'd take a shoot
Through space, and land upon their spines,
By sudden contact with the vines.

Agitation of Abolition.

Next was begun an agitation
By some, to force emancipation
Of bondsmen, or, at least, to see
That not another state should be
Admitted to the federation,
Which stood for act or declaration,
That any man should ever be
Classed as another's property.

And soon did slavery's rising tide,
Men of the North and South divide
Into a crowd for abolition
And one that clamored for secession.
While slaves, the bone of their contention,
Were helping to create dissension,
As thousands fleeing North are found
By way of railroad "underground."

Under-ground Rail-road.

This road consisted in the main,
Of men, with covered wagon train,
Who shielded slaves, hid them, and fed,
Then, with them in their wagons, sped
Onward, at night, unto the place
Where men of the Caucasian race
Believed as taught by God's own word:
"Who helps the poor lends to the Lord."

And those good men believeing thus,
And having as a stimulus,
The pleasing promise of the Lord:
"The merciful will I reward,"
At laws of men took no affright,
Bait in this: work took great delight,
They felt a starry crown they'd win,
If they befriended those poor men.

This road on Southern soil began,
And through the Northern states it ran,
Until the boundry line was crossed
Of foreign shores, where owners lost
In man, as goods, to claim a right,
And where was there no slavery blight,
But where each man, himself felt free,
Though not called "Land of liberty."

Likewise, the Northern states "black laws,''
Did much indeed to help the cause
Of abolition sentiment,
Though made to be a detriment
To those who sought to change the fate
Of Negroes, they but consummate
The work which caused the agitation,
And brought the blacks, emancipation.

Grew burdens harder every day,
And harder did the black men pray
To him Who rules the universe,
That He'd in mercy move the curse
Of servitude, from shackled limbs,
That they could sing old Zion's hymns,
And high in worship hold the head
While none, them dared to make afraid.

As sighing wind in pine woods moans,
So day and night, were heard the groans
Of souls afflicted, stifled, hushed
In sorrow, for the day before,
Some mother saw the child she bore,
Snatched from her arms and sold away,
To meet no more till judgment day.

So daily was each, slave's heart stirred
With grief, although was heard no word
Of protest, but with souls aflame,
They learned to trust the holy name
Of Him, who in deep pity, came,
And freely bore the cross of shame,
That those sad hearts, loaded with grief,
Could find in Him a sweet relief.

And when the day's enchanting light
Succumbed to sombre shades of night,
When from their secret chambers! creep
The stars that nightly vigil keep,
When moon-beams peep on earth below,
And phantasmagoric shadows throw,
When birds have ceased their songs of love
And hushed the mourn of turtle dove,

When nature reveleth in sleep,
Except those prowling beasts that creep
With muffled tread, in search of prey,
Or watch-dog holding thieves at bay,
In lonely spot, with face to ground,
Souls bowed in fervent prayer are found,
With trembling voices soft and low,
They thus tell Jesus of their woe.

"Lord, dis your weak servants bow,
In humbleness, to tell dee how
I longs ter die an' be wid dee
Fur eber, in eternity.
My Lord, you knows jes why I moans,
You knows de meanin' ob my groans;
If on my head, your jestice fell,
My naked soul would be in hell."

"Lord, you has hearn my prayers befo'
When I was layin' at hell's dark do',
You promised dat you'd not fersake
Your chilluns, who your cross would take,
But what we axed yer fer in faith,
You would be sure ter grant in grace;
Dat you cant stan' ter hear us pray,
An' from us turn your ears erway."

"Dear Lord, you heared ol' Daniel pray,
When in de lion's den he lay;
Shaderach, Meshach, an' Bednego,
Prom, out de fire you heared, you know;
Jonah you heared from belly o' whale,
An' now my marster, please dont fail
Ter hear my prayer, if I prays right,
An' turn my darkness into light."

"Lord, I am but a feeble worm;
Hide me I pray, from howling storm
Of cruel men who daily mock,
Anchor my soul wifin de Rock;
Make hase an' help, 0 Lord, come quick,
Fer now my weary soul is sick.
O tender lam' come here I pray,
An' break dese slavery chains erway."

"Lord, you said "Seek an' you shall fin',"
Come now an' ease my troubled min'.
You bid us ax an' You would give;
Please make us free so we kin live
Nearer each day, my God ter dee
In faith, hope, love, an' charity.
You said, if we'd obey your laws
You'd fight our battles, plead our cause."

"As you led Israel froo de sea,
Come now dear Lord, deliver me;
As Pharaoh in de sea you drowned,
So do my enemies confound,
Please throw dissensions inder gang,
Den dem, as high as Haman hang.
Lord, I believes dat you is just
Den dese cole chains, remove you mus’."

"You said dat dem you jined in heart
No one should dare assunder part,
But my or marster, (cuss his hide),
Sol' my companion from my side;
An' while in agony I lay,
Dey come an' sol' my chile erway;
Dey lef me nuffin here ter luv,
Cep' you Dear Jesus, You, erbuv."

"You knows Lord, why dese tears I shed:
Deep waters overcomes my head,
My feet am stuck in miry clay,
Come now an' mbve it all erway;
You said ten Christians prayin' right,
Could er thousan' devils put ter flight;
You said you in our midst would be,
If too or three would jes ergree."

"O Lord, my way is very dark;
Sometimes I thinks I hears de bark
Of hell-hounds howlin' on my track;
Come my good Lord, an' drive 'em back.
You will not let er sparrow fall,
Come ter my rescue when I call;
You clothed de lillies of de fiel'
O let dy bosom be my shiel’."

"Lord, other refuge I have none,
So you mus' save an' you erlone,
Marster, de trufe I mus' declar'
My load is more dan I kin bar';
Come lay dese slavery chains hard by,
An' I will serve you till I die,
Free me from cruel marsters here,
An' I'll raise chilluns in dy fear."

"Sometimes when I kneels down ter pray,
I feels dat you is fur erway;
Sometimes I feels so fur I stray
Dat you can't hear me when I pray.
Sometimes my faith grows very slack,
But den your spirit draws me back;
You promised jestice wid Your lip,
An' I won't let your mem'ry slip.

"O Lord, in dee I'll put my trus'
Tho You should turn me back to dus',
Jes how kin ennybody pray
Whep kep' in bondage night and day?
How could I still believe in Dee
Ef you should turn yer back on me?
An' now my marster, come dis way,
Dont let yer chariot wheels delay."

The Vial of Wrath.

Thus hourly, came up to the throne
Of God, The Just, a prayer, a groan,
A query, weird, but innocent,
And yet, with faith so pertinent,
That He who rules the earth, was stirred,
And to his angels, gave the word
The vial of his wrath to take,
And down to earth a journey make.

Then North and South its contents pour
Causing to rise a mighty roar
Of anger, as to whether the
New states admitted, slaves should be,
Or free from enforced servitude
When taken in the sisterhood
Of states, called the confederation
Of America, a mighty nation.

These angels at the word of God
Took the vial and the chastening rod
Of heavenly justice, and the sword,
The power of the avenging Lord
And swiftly down to earth they came
And scattered in the Savior's name
Between these sections, bitter strife,
Which threatened soon the nation's life.

The Lord had chosen by this plan
To prove the Negro was a man,
Like other men in flesh and thought,
And that through him should come to naught
Those declarations daily made
By men who on his earnings preyed,
That he, no eminence could earn,
Nor could he books and letters learn.

Frederick Douglas.

A former slave at length was found,
Of judgment quick, of reason sound,
Of bearing grand, of spirit bold,
With character of the highest mould.
In speech, endowed with eloquence,
Which constantly he used against
That horrid form of knavery,
Practiced in human slavery.

When but a youth his heart rebelled
Against the thought of being held
In men's esteem as goods or chattel
Traded at will like common cattle.
He was not black, nor was he white
But of mixed blood, and sad his plight!
His father's name he dared to own;
His mother could bequeath him none.

He felt he had a right to be
Like his father's sons with wills aS free
To go and come, to think or do,
To give and take, to win or woo,
In his own way to worship God;
His course through life, unhampered, plod
By ardent toil to eminence,
In spite of adverse elements.

'Twas thus he reasoned night and day
Until at length, he planned the way
To break his bonds and hurriedly
To make a break for liberty.
Attempt he made and it was done,
Though in his flight, he had to run
The gauntlet made by legal lights
To bar black men from human rights.

At length his liberty was bought,
And his receptive mind was taught
The paths of knowledge, truth and right,
The weapons' needed in his fight
For manhood rights of colored men,
Which he long urged with tongue and pen,
Till men imbued with righteousness,
Would rise to lighten his distress.

The thunder of his mighty voice
Left honest men no other choice
As to what side they'd lend their aid,
In fierce fought contest to be made
To prove whether mankind should be
Held by this nation slave or free,
Or if the constitution lied
In its preamble amplified.

Through all the Northern states he went,
Arousing public sentiment
Till men beheld the grave mistake
Which people in the past did make,
Who held that Negroes never could
Possess themselves of fortitude,
And learning of sufficient weight
To gain attention in debate.

His soul aflame with fire seemed;
His e3res with inspiration gleamed;
His voice commanding, rich and deep ;
His gestures graceful in their sweep;
His. stature noble, comely, grand;
His bearing princely, and his stand
For Negro freedom, fearless, bold;
His words spellbound his hearers hold.

But Douglass was not all alone
Amongst the Negroes who had shown
That learn could they like other mien
To speak with force, and wield the pen
With power, and with grace
And helping thereby much the case
Of those who argued 'twas a sin
To dwarf the intellects of men.

Bait through all sections of the North,
Enlightened blacks were springing forth
To fame and fortune, and whose deeds
Did wonders to uproot the seeds
Of thraldom on this continent,
And for the change of sentiment
More friendly to the Negro race
Then only subjects of disgrace.

White Friends.

Soon with these Negro giants stood
White men of honor, brave and good,
Determined, zealous in the cause
Of human rights; not for applause
Of fickle men, not for reward
Or tempting gold; but they abhorred
Of men in chains the very thought,
Driven like beasts, and sold, and bought.

Few were the numbers they could boast
When firm they stood at duty's post,
Where every act was criticized
And they by friends were ostracized;
But firmer grew they in the cause,
And harder fought to change the laws,
So that America would be
In truth, "The land of liberty."

Good Lundy battled through the press
Against this form of wickedness;
Old Greely sang the self same tune
Through his great organ—"The Tribune,"
But agitators, there were none,
That equaled William Lloyd Garrison,
Who, by his enemies was mobbed,
His papers burned, his office robbed.

By percutors sent to jail,
But not a moment did he quail,
Nor from his former purpose swerve,
But with a hero's grit and nerve
Dared he to wrestle with disgrace,
And loss of prestige with his race,
If by so doing he could see
All black men set at liberty.

The other champions of the race
Were Wendall Philips, Seward, Chase,
Thaddeus Stephens, Cassius M. Clay
And dear Charles Sumner, whose display
Of oratory, facts, and zeal
Soon battered down the cherished shield
Used by slave owners in their fight
To prove in slaves, inherent right.

Slavery received its saddest blow
From the pen of Harriet Beecher Stowe,
Who taught the world to see aright
How slavery was the nation's blight,
While on the cruel overseer
Her censuring was most severe,
And Negro traders, heartless, mean,
Immoral vultures, first were seen.

She showed how men were bought and sold
To satisfy the lust for gold.
And on a lofty plane she stood
And taught the common brotherhood
Of man and fatherhood of God,
And that the stern, unswerving rod
Of Justice, would afflict the land
Should the walls of human slavery stand.

Her book, "Cabin of Uncle Tom,"
From Southern men, produced a storm
Of protest, while to people North,
Those well directed lines set forth
The shameful, baneful, blighting sin,
Of ownership of other men,
Till the nation's sinking pulse was roused
To see the bondsman's cause espoused.

John Brown.

But deep as was the Southern ire
Towards the men who sought to fire
Against their cause, the Northern mind,
A greater cause for hate we find
Had they, and moments filled with dread
As down on slavery's cursed head,
John Brown, at Harper's Ferry fell,
Wringing from slavery its death knell.

Each, great reform, its martyrs had
Whose deeds heroic were called mad,
Wild projects of a diseased mind,
But which, in after days we find
Was but a flash of inspiration
To prick the conscience of a nation
Or state, grown callous, morbid, dead,
Towards the right to turn its head.

Brown's life was but the incarnation
Of courage, grit, determination,
Push, daring, faithfulness, devotion,
Pluck, coolness, truth, and constant motion,
Which in himself could see no beauty
Other than that which came from duty
Well performed as best he knew it,
And the chance he had to do it.

In his mind he calculated
How the slaves emancipated
Best could be, and he decided
On the blow, and then confided
To his friends, his plans of action
Which he knew would cause distraction,
And the greatest consternation
Of his day and generation.

He, with twenty men as daring,
Each the other's purpose sharing,
Calm, determined, brave, and sober—
The seventeenth day 'twas of October
Fifty-nine, the fort assaulted,
But his enterprise was halted,
And a hero grew by dying
Thus, the black man's freedom buying.

On the way to hangman's halter,
Not a moment did he falter
Except to gather to his breast,
A Negro child, and softly press
Upon its lips, a burning kiss,
While guards and rabble curse and hiss,
Thus showing those who stand near by
For right and truth he'd gladly die.

Within the heart of every Negro,
John Brown remains their greatest hero;
Who, in his death and past behavior,
Is likened to the blessed Savior
Who gave his life upon the tree,
That man, from sin, should be made free;
While Brown gave up his life to know
Black men would into freemen grow.

His body laid they in the clay
But his proud spirit swept away
The cornerstone on which had stood
The firm, united sisterhood
Of states, which had been one in heart,
But now, in anger torn apart
By the very cause for which had died
This soul immortal, sanctified.

Divided Sentiment.

The breach grew wider day by day,
And louder did the black men pray
That God would raise another Brown
With Justice's sword to batter down
The crumbling walls of slavery
And muster men of bravery
To strike another fatal blow
Like Brown's, till thralldom came to woe.

The people's minds were much divided
So that they were no longer guided
By their old party politicians,
With their same threadbare propositions,
Wherewith to reach a compromise,
On slavery, the shameful vice,
Which held the nation in its grip
Nor would agree to let it slip.

To further show their discontent,
The voters split on president.
Four candidates were in the field,
Not one would to the other yield.
Thus Douglas, Breckenridge, and Bell,
And Lincoln battled for a spell
Like gladiators of the past,
To have men's votes for their cause cast.

Bell's doctrine was: "That hold we should
The constitution as it stood."
And Breckenridge's motto was, to fight
For slave expansion and states' right:
Douglas believed in slave assertion
But stood also for states' coercion;
Lincoln stood for freedom of the nation
By gradual emancipation.

Secession and Sumpter.

Secession's parliament was held,
Which sent out word the South rebelled
Gainst laws and customs, arms and rates
And flag of the United States;
Then set they up a government,
And chose Jeff Davis, president.
A statesman of much note was. he
Who championed human slavery.

On South Carolina's jagged coast,
The rebel chieftains led a host
Of well armed men, who made demand
Upon that little Spartan band
Who formed Fort Sumter's garrison,
That they surrender fort and gun,
Haul down the gallant stripes and stars,
And hoist instead the stars and bars.

The gallant Anderson refused
And then the dogs of war were loosed,
-The echo of a cannon shell
Upon the startled nation fell.
Slowly, did drowsy Justice wake,
And vengeance's cup in anger take,
And, of its wrath, pour out a flood
Till the sinful land was drenched in blood.

The fort received a leaden hail
Yet its defenders did not quail,
But answered rebel shell with shell,
Upholding country's honor well.
The rebels, increase force applied,
Nor would their leaders be denied
Till from the fort and its redoubt
With arms and flags those Yanks marched out.

Of Sumpter's fall the nation hears
And Lincoln calls for volunteers
To shoulder arms, from hamlet, town,
And state, to crush rebellion down;
And to his call, on every side,
Men came to camp, a steady tide,
Giving up daily occupation
To shed their life's blood for the nation.

Negroes Denied the Right to Enlist.

In front of those enlistment stations
Daily, the Negro stood in patience
Asking that he should have the right
The nation's haughty foes to fight.
Now were his prayers for aid denied
And he was rudely thrust aside
And told to mind his business, for
The struggle was a "white-man's war."

    And, seemingly that was the fact,
For whether states could break the pact
Which linked them in confederation,
And set up a separate nation,
Or whether once a government
Was formed by conquest or consent
Ne'er could there be a dissolution

Unless it came by revolution.
Was held by men to be enough
To cause the use of sterner stuff
Than argument, and resolution,
Or digests on the constitution,
To prove that not an inch they'd yield,
But on the bloody battle field,
With sword and gun and cannon shell
They'd die for cause they loved so well.

No living statesman had the thought
That in this conflict they'd be brought
To answer if this land should be
From slavery forever free.
Nor would the whites have left their farms
And factories, to take up arms,
Soon to be filling heroes' graves,
If they had known they fought for slaves.

But God moves in mysterious ways
That men may on his wonders gaze.
With wings, he clothes the lowly worm,
And speaks to earth in howling storm.
He bends the lightning to his will,
He bids, and angry winds are still;
He frowns, and earth begins to quake;
He wills, and worlds from nothing wake.

His purposes He keeps concealed,
Until by acts they are revealed.
He willed that slavery should go,
In spite of all that men could do;
That men might strive in every way
To bar the Negroes from: the fray,
But that conditions would arise
That would demand their services.

Bull Run.

At length the hostile armies met
At Bull Run, and the soil they wet
With brethren's heated blood and tears,
Which would like water flow for years;
For, by such sacrifice alone,
The nation could to God atone
For heart-aches, deaths and misery
Produced by human slavery.

Great was the nation's consternation,
When it received the information
That Northern arms were put to flight
By rebel hosts, in their first fight;
And deafening was the joyous cry
Of rebels, o'er their victory;
And harder did the Negroes pray
When heard they first news of the fray.

But deep as was the country's gloom
O'er vanquished arms, she found no room
Within her ranks for Negro men,
Who begged that they be taken in;
But Irish, German, Russian, Pole,
And Frenchmen did their names enroll,
Who fought not for the Union's sake,
But for the money they could make.

Other Battles.

Met they again at Maiverne Hill,
Fair Oaks, South Mountain, and Boonesville,
At Warrenton and Fredericksburg,
Seven Pines, Anteitam, or Sharpsburg,
Manassas Junction, Murfreesboro,
And Pea Ridge, could be heard the bellow
Of belching guns, and screeching shell,
As thousands in each army fell.

So met they at Mechanicsville,
And Harper's Ferry, Berry'sville,
Roanoke Island, New Orleans,
Shiloh, and Donaldson, where scenes
Of military skill were wrought,
And fierce and bloody battles fought,
Where each combatant's loss sustained,
Balanced, account with that they'd gained.

Nor could the yankees make advance
'Gainst chivalry of Southern lance;
One day could they a victory claim
And on the next retreat in shame;
One day a noted general praise,
The next, remove him in disgrace.
Not one placed in authority
Equalled the brilliant R.E. Lee.

Negroes Contrabands of War.

Began the South to use the blacks
As cooks and teamsters for their packs,
To bridge the streams and build redoubts,
And trees to fell for wagon routes.
To have done by these Negroes sooty,
The army's heavy fatigue duty;
Relieving thus thousands of men
To mingle in the battle's din.

But that awoke the sleeping North
To realize the Negroes' worth.
Since built they works Yank's way to bar,
Why not as contraband of war
Be given right to wear the blue,
And heavy fatigue duty do;
Relieving thus those valiant men,
Who yearned for firing lines again?

At length was tried the novelty,
And a success it proved to be.
No task so hard, no hour too long;
No risk so great but that these strong,
Muscular limbs and willing minds,
With eagerness and skill combine,
And prove to army lords at length
Were those black boys a tower of strength.

But fiercer still the conflict grew,
And not a Southern state withdrew
Its soldiers from secession's cause,
Nor in its work of treason pause;

The humble slaves were not deceived;
The days of freedom they believed
Were coming rapidly their way,
And strong in faith they daily pray.

Failures of Yankee Generals.

Each Federal Commanding Chief
Who clashed with Lee was brought to grief.
McClernard tried at first, but failed,
And George McClellan next was hailed
As conquering hero—but, alas!
As shatters fallen pane of glass,
So, broken were his strongest lines
By the force of Lee's martial engines.

Halleck then took McClellan's place,
But could not stand Lee's rapid pace.
Next tried they out the dashing Pope,
But soon he failed with Lee to cope.
McClellan seemed to be in prime
And tried, but failed the second time.

Felt Burnside, he could turn the trick
But Lee's men fixed his business quick.
Then Hooker, known as "fighting Joe,"
Believed that he could overthrow
In tilt at arms, this southern knight,
Were they to meet in finish fight.
The nation his. petition grants,
But broken was his heavy lance
By forcible compact with the shield
Of southerners on battle-field.

Emancipation Proclamation and Arming of Blacks.

The first day of the year A.D.,
Eighteen hundred and sixty-three,
Issued Lincoln his proclamation
Of Negro slave emancipation,
Thus adding strength to cause of the nation,
But filling the south with desperation.
Swore they to fill the lands with graves
Before they'd liberate their slaves.

Recruiting the Blacks.

Reluctantly, at length they yield,
And from the cane and cotton-field,
From turpentine and orange groves,
The Negroes flocked in groups and droves.
They care not what they're bid to do,
So that they wear the cherished blue;
They care not what may them befall,
So that they answer bugle's call.

Let hunger, cold and hardships come,
So that they march by beat of drum;
Let sword and bullet end each: life,
So that they follow sound of fife;
Of home and riches give them none,
So that they handle loaded gun;
Whether they died it mattered not,
If at their lords they got a shot.

Then came the day for which they prayed,
That they no longer be afraid
Their lords to answer blow with blow,
Or use a gun instead of hoe.
Happy the hour, sacred the place,
They'd meet their masters face to face,
And, savagely each other fight,
Until in death they'd vent their spite.

So fast come they to meeting place,
Which serves as a recruiting placed
That their petitions were denied,
Because they could not be supplied
With clothing, arms, accoutrements,
And rations, the habiliments
Needed in every soldier's life,
Him to prepare for ardent strife.

Reared to accept authority
From childhood to majority,
To act when given a command,
Without having to understand
The purpose of or reason why,
With strict command should they comply,
A hardship then, they found it not
When burdened with a soldier's lot.

Awkward and ignorant were they,
But tried their orders to obey.
What was their lack in sense or skill,
They overpaid in pluck and will. 
To free their kinsmen from their chains
Was the one thought that racked their brains.
Slaves had they been, and well they knew
What men in chains had to go through.

White Officers Refused to Lead Them.

But now arose another cry
Against the Negro soldiery;
No officers were to be had
Who would accept command so bad;
None cared to stake his reputation,
By leading men of such low station,
Who, in obedience had been reared,
And white men's faces always feared.

The Revolution they forgot;
How black men answered shot with shot.
Of New Orleans they had no thought
How bravely black men british fought;
Forgot they Perry's victory,
Who used black men on Lake Erie;
They needed history to tell
How Attucks first for freedom fell.

At Monmouth and at Valley Forge
Met they the soldiers of King George;
At Trenton and at Yorktown, they
Were found in the thickest of the fray;
Not once had any one denied
That they'd proved true wherever tried;
That any doubt should now arise
Whether they'd fight, was a surprise.

The First Colored Regiment (1st South Carolina) and Port Hudson.

To Florida at length was sent
The South Carolina regiment
Of colored troops with the intent
Of making an experiment.
Their officers firmly believed
That they would never be deceived
In these black boys when the time came
On war's grim fields to gather fame.

A frowning fortress, strong and good,
For Southern arms, Port Hudson stood.
To capture it Hunter had planned,
With the mixed troops of his command.
Arrived at length the fateful hour,
When colored men must face a shower
Of flying missies, shells and shot,
To prove that they would falter not.

Charge!" rang out the sharp command,
And, up the hill, in order grand,
With eager strides, these troopers go,
Anxious to strike a telling blow
On those who held them in their grip,
And on their persons plied the whip,
Who, them on equal terms must meet,
And with cold steel their owners greet.

The rebels fire, they feel the blow;
They waver, Do they falter? No!
By the right, flank their lines deploy,
Then face to front, with shouts of joy;
Madly towards the fort they run
Not stopping once to fire a gun;
While right and left the rebel shell
Filled with explosives, bursting, fell.

But on, not heeding death, they go,
When falls brave Captain Callioux,
The black hero, who, filled with shot,
Return unto the rear would not,
But shouting, "Forward, boys," he fell,
Dying of wounds from bursting shell,
His white companions standing by
Were taught how blacks could bravely die.

"Colonel, this flag in honor'll fly,
Or God shall know the reason why,"
Spake Planciancios, just before
The flag he into battle bore,
And ere the ground with blood was red,
A cannon ball took off his head.
Stretched were his limbs on the thirsty sod,
While he reported unto God!

Two Sergeants at his banner caught,
And, to possess it fiercely fought,
Till death, by shot from rebel gun,
Declared who'd be the honored one.
This banner leading, on they go,
Anxious to grapple with the foe;
Nor can the rbs this war-cry stop:
"The bottom rail is now on top!"

The moat they reach, and there they meet
A deadly fire and they retreat;
They halt, they wheel, their ranks they close,
Then charge again upon their foes.
Seven times advance and fall back they,
Because they cannot find a way;
Charge as they will, to reach the fort,
Because of depth and width of moat.

At length the curtains of the night
Upon them fall, stopping the fight;
And twinkling stars their halo shed
O'er bloody field of Negro dead.
Peeps down the moon in sympathy
Upon black men in agony
From gasping wounds from which they lie
Stretched on the battle-field to die.

To take the fort, these men had failed,
Yet they with loud acclaim were Hailed.
Why do men praise, what had they done
To win respect from every one?
Why do white soldiers raise a shout
When these black boys came near about?
Why do the rebels rant and swear
When Negro soldiers' names they hear?

There must be cause why men despised
As were these men, are lionized;
Something they must have done averse
That rebel leaders fume and curse.
Sing of their valor, let all know
Why men had changed toward them so;
Speak out, that every man who reads
May know of Negro soldiers' deeds!

Their pluck had opposition moved
'Gainst them as soldiers, when they proved
That cravens they had never been,
But brave were they as any men!
Taught they the 'stonished world to know
How nobly would they strike a blow
The nation's life to help preserve,
And in her cause in honor serve!

Stepped they the biting words of scorn
which pricked their hearts as poisonous thorn
Flesh punctured by it, sore inflames,
Or horrid fang of serpent maims,
And poisons those within whose veins
A particle of it remains.
All were amazed, had none a breath
Of scorn for men who laughed at death!

Proud felt they of the name they'd won;
That day a mighty deed they'd done;
They'd sounded in the nation's ears
Where she'd find willing volunteers,
Ready to answer battle call,
Fearless of hissing cannon ball,
Happy to suffer, bleed and die,
If thus they might a man's rights buy.

No more had men reason to doubt
That black men would their blood pour out
In storming fortress or redoubt,
Or that their hearts were brave and stout;
No more could scoffers prophesy
That belching guns would make them fly,
Or that a single white man's face
Could more two hundred Negroes chase.

A rain of shells they bravely bore,
And then they beg to be once more
In battle sent where bullets, singe,
That they their comrades' deaths avenge;
But they no longer plead in vain,
For to the nation was it plain
That the rebellion would decline
With black men on the firing line.

Milliken's Bend.

Next they their country's flag defend
From rebel hoards at Milliken's Bend.
Their command fourteen hundred strong
Regaled themselves with mirth and song,
When suddenly upon them fell
The unmistaken rebel yell,
And furious also grew they
As heard they hated blood hounds bay.

Brought up the rebels a brigade
Of seasoned troops, which they arrayed
In battle form, then sent a tender
Of life to all who would surrender.
And had those rebels taken pains
To carry handcuffs, ropes and chains,
With which to bind those Negroes well
And give them here a taste of hell.

First were the blood-hounds brought in play,
But these the Negroes laid away
With butts of guns and bayonet,
And next in turn their masters met.
"No quarter!" was the rebel cry,
And black men knew they had, to die,
Whether they yielded arms or not,
And they in fight much fiercer got.

The rebels charge with deafening yell,
While in great heaps their best men fell
Spattered with blood, wounded and dead,
While on their maddened comrades sped,
With shot for shot and steel for steel,
Till from, the shock their comrades' reel;
Then in confusion break and fly,
Leaving their wounded men to die.

Five cannon were to rebels lost;
Three hundred dead had Jordan crossed;
Five hundred wounded rebels moan;
Two hundred rebel prisoners groan
With inward wrath and indignation,
And great was their mortification
That they submissive had to be
To hated blacks' authority.


Fort Wagner gave the world a light
On how the blacks in blue would fight.
A regiment was mustered North,
The Massachusetts' Fifty-Fourth),
Which was of colored men composed,
And they full confidence imposed
In their commander, Colonel Shaw,
A braver man none ever saw.

With frowning guns Fort Wagner stood,
With rebels manned, in warlike mood;
Her garrison had confidence
That well were they for her defense
Prepared, the bravest men to halt
And if insiege or by assault
Make they attempt the fort to take
With raking fire their lines to break.

At length the Yankee lines advance,
But saw they stood a sorry chance
The fort to capture from the foe,
But still they into battle go.
In place of danger sending forth
The Massachusetts Fifty-Fourth,
Who question not the reason why
In forlorn cause they're made to die.

These men known always to obey,
Stopped not to question why should they
As oxen, sent to butchers' knives,
In helpless cause yield up their lives.
"Forward!" they heard their leader shout,
And instantly wheeled they about
And charged, although they knew full well
Were they to meet a leaden hell.

The open fields swept they across
Only to suffer fearful loss;
As all around them cannons roared,
And deadly muskets, bullets poured
In steady flow, a leaden rain,
Which through their lines cut many a lane;
Still on went they o'er plain and moat,
Until in joy reached they the fort.

They carry bastion and redoubt;
Drive they those brave defenders out;
They found in walls of fort a breach,
And this, through blood, at length tRey reach;
Mount they upon the parapet,
But down went they from fierce onset
Of those determined boys in gray,
Who fought like wounded beasts at bay.

The first to fall was Colonel Shaw;
And instantly was filled with awe
His regiment of colored men,
For midst the fearful battle din
No voice heard they to cheer them on,
No sure support to lean upon,
No one was there who seemed to know
How should they strike another blow.

Sadly they stagger from the field,
Unwilling still the ground to yield;
With shattered ranks and troubled minds
Reach they the halting reserve lines.
The fact to learn that they alone
The rebels' raking fire had borne,
And had reserves given support
Taken had been the sullen fort.

Then charged those fresh white regiments,
And, from the rebel battlements
Those guns just silent get in play,
And soon retreat they in dismay.
Lay fifteen hundred Union dead
On battle-field, and it is said
Of those the earth had taken back,
Ninety per cent of them were black.

Their record is their monument
To greet them on this continent.
Must live their gallant deeds as long
As heroes speak through verse and song.
Their spirits rise to question why
Should men their children's rights deny.
Their graves are landmarks men to shame,
Who in derision call their name.

So let the just historian tell
How those black boys in honor fell
On James' Island and Hatcher's Run,
Fair Oaks, Paducah, Deep Bottom,
At Petersburg and Chapin's Farm,
And by their pluck the rebs alarm.
Win they great honor at Farmville,
Wilson's Wharf and Overton Hill.

Fort Pillow.

Ye tender hearted mortals, weep,
As hear ye how brave men like sheep
At Fort Pillow in meekness stood,
And there were murdered in cold blood!
Thousands of hardened men in gray
To storm this fortress, came that day;
Six hundred men, both white and black,
Within, attempt to drive them back.

Withstands, the fort the fierce onslaught,
And then a flag of true was brought,
Asking that they capitulate,
As that would not necessitate
The play of guns, carnage and strife,
And needless sacrifice of life;
For it was plain no hopes had they
To keep the rebels long at bay.

But armistice and flag of truce
Gave chance for shameful rebel ruse,
For, while they parley 'neath the walls
The rebel army on them falls
Like frenzied beasts on helpless prey,
And dastardly begins to slay
Like dogs that feeble garrison.
A crime without comparison.

Spared not the youthful nor the old;
Spared not the timid nor the bold;
Spared not the women nor the men;
Spared not the wounded, oh the sin!
Spared not the white troops nor the black;
And by their damning, brutal act,
Steeped they themselves in infamy,
In ridicule and villiany.

Sacred the spot where martyred blood
Is on its country's altars poured!
Adored the hero, black or white,
Who yields up life in the cause of right;
Preserved that nation which succeeds
In keeping green its heroes deeds.
Cursed be "the soldier who would dare
Of conquered foe to harm a hair.

Were men reminded "War is hell,"
As men by shot and sabre fell.
As fall the fields of ripened grain
By the hands of reapers, or the slain
Of buck or birds by hunter's gun,
So dead and wounded in the sun
Lay, with damp earth a dying bed
And pack, a pillow for the head.

As ebbs and flows the fickle tide
Of war, from North to Southern side,
So ebbed and flowed the minds of those
Who labored for or still opposed
The giving arms to Negro men,
And give them chance a name to win
As soldiers brave, worthy and true,
Who mocked at death and dangers too.

Said some, a coward would he be
When facing fire of musketry;
Some said he'd run from battle-field
If he were threatened with cold steel;
Some held he could not be controlled
If right were his a gun to hold;
Some said his arms he would disgrace,
Were he to fill a soldier's place.

Said others, that they couldn't see,
That now the colored men were free
By sudden impulse of the nation,
Why there should be a hesitation
When they again for arms applied,
To let them battle on the side
Of Union, right and liberty,
To give the land tranquility.

Negro Soldier's Welcomed.

But on the tide of battle goes,
And fiercer still the conflict grows.
Each battle fought would nearer tend
To bring the conflict to an end.
The Union cause fresh victories won
Since had been given hope and gun
To colored soldiers, while the South
Of army recruits had a drought.

No longer was there army corps
In which no Negro small arms bore.
The army on Potomac's banks
Had thousands serving in her ranks;
The army of the Tennessee
Their presence welcomed heartily;
The army of the Cumberland
Had Ham's dark sons in its command.

The army serving in the West
To Negro valor could attest;
The army of the James had stayed
In Dixie land by black men's aid.
As scouts and spies, formed they the key
To Sherman's march through South to sea;
In Sheridan's splendid cavalry,
Bore they their part most gallantly.

When Richmond fell in Yankee hands
The trooper black 'mongst victors stand;
At Appomattox, there was he
When Grant received the sword of Lee;
On honor's wall carved he his name,
Gained he a place in halls of fame,
At the bar of justice proud he stood,
Asking the price of patriot's blood.

Negroes Not Called Criminals.

While some to save the Union fought,
The bulk remained at home and wrought
With might and main, supplies to raise
For Southern arms, so that the days
Of their enslavement stretched had been
By arduous toil of colored men,
Who'd toil in sadness through the day,
And in the night for freedom pray.

Saw they their masters go to war
And knew full well what fought they for;
But patiently bore they the yoke,
And few of vengeance ever spoke,
Nor planned to rise and burn or slay
Defenseless heads that sleeping lay.
The mistress ruled in the master's place,
And they obeyed in childlike grace.

Nor had they then to burn or shoot
Or lynch a vicious colored brute,
Or threaten to exterminate
The Negro race, or speculate
Upon their speedy separation
As fiends—a menace to the nation;
Nor had a woman thought of fear
When were there trusty black men near.

Freedom in '65 Real.

In April, eighteen sixty-five,
The rebel forces ceased to strive
Against the federal government,
And conquered, though not penitent.
To Grant surrendered they their arms,
And on parole went to their farms
Much weakened from their many fights,
But still believers in states' rights.

'Twas then and not in sixty-three
That Negroes learned that they were free;
'Twas then their hearts could witness bear
That God above would answer prayer;
'Twas then did' they their voices raise
Towards his throne in shouts of praise;
'Twas then felt they, and not till then,
That God had no respect of men.

The Christian Negroes, firm, devout,
Would pray to Jesus, sing and shout,
And tell of his redeeming love,
Whereby he did from them remove
The chains of bondage and of sin;
So now had they sweet peace within.
From men and Satan free were they,
And Christ alone need they obey.

Though sweet to them was freedom's charm,
Still toiled they gladly on the farm;
The crops they house, the stock they tend,
To wounded Southern soldiers lend
They kind assistance, dress their wounds,
Rebuild their houses, till their grounds,
Secret their goods from greedy hands
Of plunder-hunting soldier bands.

WMle in the day they labored long,
Filled was the night with mirth and song;
The sound of banjo and the beat
Of happy colored dancers' feet,
And all around was; filled the air
With songs of praises and of prayer
Of those, rejoiced that they could meet
Unharmed, around the mercy seat.

Leaving Old Homes and Masters.

Now comes the day they learn to know
That must they from their old homes go;
Must from the care of masters part
And for themselves, in life must start.
The sober-minded fear the step.
And they, with masters/sorely wept
O'er turn of tide in their relations,
Which forced them from the old plantations.

Nor till that moment was it clear
How heart to heart of each was dear;
Not till that moment was it shown
How God's own hand the seeds had sown
Of love, dependence, tenderness,
Devotion, trust and friendliness
Between the members of each race,
Which time nor fortune can efface.

The tears therefore unbidden leap
From reddened eyes, as sorrows deep
Down within their troubled souls
Kindle afresh the slumbering coals
Of their affections, and they know
That their Creator willed it so
That this war was part of Wisdom's plan
To teach the brotherhood of man.

Their masters, helpless, knew where they,
If all their slaves should go away.
To toil, they'd never learn the art,
And now they dread to make a start.
The slaves had neither home nor food,
And thoughtful ones were not in mood
To cater to the elements
Of changes and experiments.

Meanwhile, as vagabonds and tramps,
There poured into the Yankee camps
The young and shiftless by the scores,
Until their presence greatly bores
The officers and soldiery,
And placed them in a quandary
To figure out what disposition
Of them would better their condition.

Self Dependence.

The black man now that he was free,
Had cause enough for industry;
Since with his master he must share
The products raised for food and wear.
For not a morsel had he stored,
Nor had he place for an abode.
He not a dollar could command,
And thus was left to fall or stand.

It would be idle should you ask
If he proved equal to the task,
Or if by recent legacy
Of freedom he, in beggary
And pilfering, would try to live,
Or to the world a lesson give
In patience, pluck and industry,
Grit, cheerfulness and constancy.

The Southern farms once desolate,
The blacks begin to renovate
By causing nature's heavy yields
From those neglected cotton-fields,
Until again the people sing
That in this land is cotton king;
That by the Negro and the hoe,
The ruined South would rise once more.

Nor did he with the cotton crop
Which he produced, his labors stop;
But every product of the farms
In Dixie land were by his arms
Produced as if by magic wands,
From those devasted war-torn lands,
Until the South, from heavy blows
Of strife, had blossomed like a rose.

The shops which forged the musketry,
Make tools for farming industry;
The powder causing men's death groans,
Finds better use in blasting stones
Were turned the swords to reaping blades,
And bayonetes to useful spades;
The roar of field artillery
Gives place to hum of industry.

The fields once strewn with warriors slain,
Stand now adorned with waving grain;
Where stood the shameful auction block,
Stands school to which the children flock;
Where wheels of industry stood still,
Now stands the busy cotton mill;
Where stood as sentry poverty,
There now abounds prosperity.

The greatest wonder of the nation
Is found in the sudden transformation
Of the land of Dixie from starvation,
The scourge of war and desolation,
Lost credit, misery and shame,
To prestige restored, wealth and fame
Until today her happy lot
Ts, she's the nation's garden spot.

Negro Labor Changed Dixie.

Have we considered what has brought
The changes which we see are wrought
Within the South in forty years,
Which like a fairy tale appears?
Was it produced by magic wands.
Or came the change by horny hands
Of toil, with zest and will applied
Till the bleeding South is beautified?

Labor is health, the doctor cries;
Labor is wealth, the earth replies;
Labor is monarch of the earth,
Labor is life and joy, and mirth,
Labor is rich blood of the nation,
Labor defined means civilization,
Labor is God's best gift to man,
Save Jesus and redemption's plan.

The man that labors adds to health,
And by his labor pileth wealth;
This rule unto the South applied
Leaves us but one thing to decide:
That since the Negroes' daily toil
To extract yield from fertile soil,
In every sovereign Southern state,
'Tis they, the South do renovate.

Was slavery but the black man's tool
His all-important training- school,
His safe and sure foundation stone,
For base of structure of his own,
For without aught was he set free
But held to labor's legacy;
Though owning not a foot of soil,
Rich was he found in art of toil.

As toilers in the Southern heat
No laborers can with them compete;
No task so hard, no day so long,
That it disturbs their mirth and song;
No race so readily as they
Do their employers' laws obey;
No other working men would live
Upon the wages they receive.

No set of men, no other race,
When placed within a trusted place,
With every chance a wrong to do,
As have they been, have proved as -true.
Are Negroes hired on large plantations
Upon their own recommendations;
And, be it known that just a few,
Unto their trusts are found untrue.

Why, one a home will get today,
And on the morrow he will say,
Without the slightest hesitation:
"Our crops, our house and our plantation."
In one day's time his tender heart,
In "boss's" interest feels a part,
And he will labor night and day
To drive all enemies away.

He who with eloquence of mouth
The praises heralds of the South,
For rapid strides in life's, great race,
But somehow fails, to give a place
Of praise to what the blacks have done,
Will find, before his course is run,
While traveling o'er familiar route,
That half the story is left out.

Accustomed as he'd grown to be
To hardships and adversity,
Since, had he entered freedom's ark,
No phase of life to him seemed dark,
But worked he with celerity,
To leave to his posterity,
Not laborer's legacy alone,
But something real to call his own.

Education of the Race.

Feeling his need of education,
To fit him for his new relation
As freedman and a citizen,
Rather than mate for denizen
Of dismal swamp, or jungle wild,
A reptile spurned, a beast defiled,
His rustic children as a rule
With books were found hastening to school.

To study were their minds applied,
And anxious parents had the pride
To hear their children read and spell
And learn to use their pens as well.
Slave owners by these deeds were dazed,
Were filled with wonder, jarred, amazed.
To them 'twas cause for much concern
That blacks to read and write could learn.

The Ballot.

While education proved a charm,
Those freedmen found a greater balm
For slavery's sting, in the right to vote,
Which was to them an antidote
For long oppression, cruelty,
And wedlock's insecurity,
Which masters taught was not a sin,
Since Negroes were not counted men.

But now stands he and loudly knocks
At the door of cherished ballot box,
A citizen, a man indeed,
'Mongst other men, a life to lead
Of duty done to home and state,
And on life's problems ruminate;
Though wearing marks of slavery's brand,
Stands he a ruler of the land.

Know, in our form of government,
The men who votes doth represent,
The functions of a ruler, king,"
Or emperor, or greater thing—
A president; for he alone
Can say who shall ascend the throne
With sceptre of authority
To rule the great majority.

Though ignorant, they, as a rule,
Were students from experience's school;
Knew not what letters might denote,
Put well they knew their wish to vote
Was but to carry out the ends
Of white men they believed their friends,
Whether they from the North had come
Or had been Union men at home.

None can deny that they were true
To every one who wore the blue;
None will deny they then did make
A fatal and a vast mistake;
None can deny that reason taught
That they should vote as they had fought;
None can deny that they were right,
Their masters' views at the polls to fight.

What more repugnant, mean or rude,
Is there than base ingratitude?
What showeth more nobility
In men than known fidelity?
What fills the soul with more disgust
Than when a man betrays his trust
What act in man is more depraved
Than wronging those, his life has saved?

To uproot slavery from the earth,
Was the cause of republican party's birth;
That Negroes might be held as slaves
The Southern whites found early graves;
To bring to Dixie consternation,
Was issued Lincoln's proclamation;
To bring the war to a speedy end
The North enlisted colored men;

To punish Dixie for secession,
The Negroes came into possession
Of the greatest prize to freemen given,
Which can be had this side of heaven—
The right to choose their governors
And brainy men to make the laws;
A right to freedom till he hears
A jury's verdict of his peers.

Carpet Baggers.

Thus 'twas the Northern carpet-bagger,
The scoundrel and the scalawagger,
Elected were to many a place
Which they soon covered with disgrace.
The blacks were first to be dismayed,
When saw they how they were betrayed
By men who wore the sacred blue,
Which they believed no vileness knew.

For in official acts they blundered,
And then, the states' exchequers plundered;
The South made desolate by strife,
And threatened to destroy its life.
By wanton theft 'tis made to bleed,
To satiate the lust and greed
Of looters, robbers, sneaks, and knaves,
Who'd tomb-stones steal from dead men's graves.

What cared they for the South's starvation,
Its misery and desolation,
Its poverty and devastation,
Its loss of prestige with the nation?
What cared they for the people's groans
Occasioned by the heavy loans,
And weighty bonds which must they, pay
For thieving scamps to bear away?

What cared they for their useful tools:
The black men whom they take for fools,
And on them into office ride,
Letting a few but peep inside?
But these were not seen near the spot,
Where stood the tempting boodle pot,
Which ransack they and pot did hide,
While stolen plunder they divide.

What cared they for the commonwealth
They ruled in shame, or for the health
Of business that taxes yield,
In either trade or growing field?
Of nature's products, rich and choice,
If they were still allowed a voice
When that auspicious hour appears
The spoils to filch like buccaneers?

And when the prostrate South they'd bled,
They, with their stolen treasures fled
To other climes, in wealth to roll,
But left the black man in a hole;
They found out then to their disgust
How these white men betrayed their trust,
Then ran away in blackest shame,
And left the blacks to bear the blame.

Negro Suffrage Not a Mistake.

The politicians, North and South,
Do now proclaim by pen and mouth,
That Dixie got its ruination
Through so-called Negro domination;
That Congress made a vast mistake
When it in wrath did undertake
To put into the hands of blacks
The ballot, when they paid no tax.

These people never stop a season,
And with themselves, begin to reason
What would have been the blacks' condition
Had they been left in a position
Of freedom, shorn of the protection,
Which suffrage gives for the correction
Of all abuses, fancied, real,
Or otherwise, which freedmen feel.

Were bristling guns to awe the whites
To be sole guardians of their rights?
Must the South be ruled by martial law
As though she still had civil war?
Were blacks just snatched from slavery's jaws
To be still ruled by masters' laws?
Could men in a republic be
Deprived of votes and still be free?

Why was Columbia first to be
Called "Blessed land of liberty?"
Why have the men from foreign shores
Crowded into her open doors?
Why did crowned heads in self-defense
Declare for people's parliaments?
Why did their colonies rebel
And the mother country's power repel?

What but Columbia's constitution
Caused Prance to face a revolution?
What but the freedom of our land
A republic made of Switzerland?
Why do mien term the present state
Of Russian laws degenerate?
Why are the Chinese sluggish, dead,
And to their ancient customs wed?

Each time the reason is the same:
Men got a glimpse of the sacred flame
Of freedom's light which shown afar,
As shone in Judea Bethlehem's star;
And as the rays of its bright light
Proclaimed man's ransom from Death's night,
So did the light of liberty
Foreshow the end of tyranny.

Saw Congress nothing else to do,
Since black men were now freemen too,
But to apply the only test
Which raises men from nothingness.
They had no standing in the law
To shield them from the tyrant's paw;
The nation's wards, they could not be
Because they labored steadily.

That Camby's laws receive support,
Were black men" urged to come and vote;
Urged thus to rally to the cause
Of the adoption of such laws
As were the South to dominate
Until her sons should nominate
By acts of loyalty to prove
That they for country's laws, had love.

What else could have the nation done?
Must it into confusion run
By placing power in the hands
Of late disbanded rebel bands
Who fought four years for dissolution,
To ratify a constitution,
Which brushed aside the measures for
Which, they contended in the war?

Was it for years and years to wait
For Dixie to assimilate
Love for the flag and those who died
To keep the nation unified?
Was it to doubt or hesitate
While subjects insubordinate
Must have some form of government
To hold in check their devilment?

Magnanimous was it to be
To such an unusual degree
As to defer to its late foe?
Let reason's echo answer NO!
Let every loyal soul be proud
That such a nauseous, blackened cloud
Of burning and eternal shame
Rose not to taint his country's name.


Here let us recapitulate
Why Congress did not hesitate
On blacks, the franchise to bestow,
Whether it pleased the South or no:
Must either wards or citizens be
Declared these blacks, by war made free.
As citizens they'd not remain,
If right to vote did not obtain.

Was classed the South both out and in
The Union, and its leading men
Were by rebellion disfranchised
Until the North re-organized
Their commonwealths into free states
Repugnant to the South's mandates.
In loyalty were they so lax,
The state must be restored by blacks.

The blacks must vote these stubborn men
Into the Union’s grace again,
For had some passed a resolution
'Gainst amendment to the constitution,
Which gave to black men equal rights,
Which they oppose with all their mights.
The blacks must vote if men would bar
The causes of another war.

'Twas wise they voted then, because
The course of wind is told by straws;
Unlettered, poor, and destitute
As they were then, will none dispute
That with their strides in education,
Refinement, wealth and adaptation,
To the ways of freenien, sad to say;
Stronger is prejudice today!

The Intelligent Negro Most Despised.

The ballot I'll not dwell upon,
A-s its place cometh farther on
In tale of woe, but look, I pray,
What men are looking for today:
Forty long years since the close of war,
Statesmen petition justice's bar
To grant them speedy dissolution
Of amendments to the constitution,

Which gave to black men equal rights
Before the law, and in the fights
Or wars that come, then in no case
*Let Negro soldiers fill a place;*
Let none as jurors ever serve
But see that they the laws observe;
Class them as creatures so abject
That whites need not their rights respect.

Let honest mortals bear in mind,
Some states have long since cast behind
Their scorn of Negro ignorance
Their poverty and incompetence,
And at the wealthy and upright,
The educated men of might,
The honest and industrious,
The lawful and illustrious.
The men who for their country fought,

The men who much for good have wrought,
Men blazoned high in halls of fame,
Men who the minstrels like to name,
Men loyal to their government,
And striving for its betterment,
These men the statesmen of today,
Attempt, their rights to sweep away.

The ignorant are checked, because
Of what is called "Grandfathers' Clause,"
Others with splendid educations
**Checked are by property qualifications;
While some with both, are stopped at the bar
***To satisfy the registrar.
Closed thus to black men manhood's doors,
Those puny statesmen goard them more.

No Negro has in their dimmed eyes,
It matters not how rich or wise,
How brave and good he tries to be,
How much done for posterity,
How great to flag is his devotion,
How dared to die on land and ocean,
How high his rank 'mongst worthy men,
Man's right as full-fledged citizen.

We pray this nation ne'er may make
A law which proves no more mistake
Than that conferring on black men
The duties of the citizen.
Let's pray as all good Christians must,
That those who rule our land be just;
So that we blush not when we brag
That freedom dwelleth 'neath our flag.

Let's strive to cast away the beam
Which mars our visions, so things seem
When done by others, painted black;
Let's for our most stupendous lack
Of justice, find an antedote,
Then can we better see the mote
Of statesmen forty years ago,
Who wisely wrought as time will show.

Were Garfield, Blaine, and Sumner fools?
Or were they but the filthy tools
Of scoundrels and designing men
Who only labored for the end
Of their own self-aggrandizement
And not the country's betterment?
Were statesmen then so far below
Those filling seats in Congress now?

Why no, though now we've men of weight
As rulers high, and learning great,
Of courage and of eloquence,
Of cherished world-wide prominence,
Of dignity and courtesy,
And unsurpassed integrity;
Yet of these statesmen great, not one
Outranks the men of sixty-one.

Negroes in the Senate.

Why blacks were enfranchised we've shown,
And why official robes have worn;
Hundreds of whom were not prepared,
And thus the Southland badly fared;
Yet have there been black men of weight
In Congress halls and native state,
As legislators, true and tried,
To whom black men may point with pride.

One Hiram Revels early came
To sit in the Senate halls of fame;
Then Blanche K. Bruce, from the same state
Of Mississippi, proud and great,
The Senatorial garments wore
And he himself with credit bore
While shaping laws an honored part,
Quite worthy of the statesman's art.

They with their country's statesmen share,
Although their names no measures bear
As authors, which the records show,
Have made the country prosper so.
Yet were these great men ever found
On current issues safe, and sound
Of judgment, pointed in debate,
Which traits a statesman indicates.

This fact historians well may broach;
Their country suffered no reproach
Because they graced the council halls
Of those much honored Senate walls
Mongst cultured men and dignified
Of learning great, experience wide,
But failed in all those years to make,
In public life just one mistake.

That they were wise and dignified
Men of their race may boast with pride.
If men reared slaves of note could be
Mongst giants intellectually,
Could stamp themselves as men of worth
In the greatest council hall on earth,
What would their trained descendants do
As statesmen, some decade or two.

Few men who to the Senate go,
As that grand body's records show,
Are ever classed as being great
Because of prestige in debate.
It thus devolves upon the few
The speaking for the crowd to do,
While most of them their worth denote
By faithfulness in work and vote.

Thus these black Senators will stand
Proudly among that worthy band
Of Senators whose deeds are seen
In righteous laws and records clean;
Not Sumner's, Plato's, Webster's, Blaine's,
But stand they forth as. men of brains
Like Edison and Angelo,
Whose sterling worth their works best show.

House of Representatives.

While they the Senate thus adorn,
The "lower house" is called upon
Its doors to colored men to ope,
Thus throwing wide the "door of hope,"
Which some declared should never close
Through machinations of their foes
Or two-faced friends, whom, we are told,
In black men's cause blow hot and cold.

Let the historian call the roll
Of those inscribed upon the scroll
Of men in Congress since the war,
And see if any black men are
Amongst them found, then let us see
What kind of men proved they to be;
Whether they brought the house disgrace,
Or shed new lustre in the place.

The first to come proved to be great
As worthy foremen in debate,
And as their numbers greater grew,
So came new orators to view.
The links of that important chain
Of Congressmen were Richard Cain,
And Robert De Large, James Rapier,
Jefferson Long, J. D. Ransier,

Willis Menard, Israel G. Lash,
John M. Langston and Charles E. Nash,
Joe H. Raney, G. Robert Smalls,
Jerry Haralson, Josiah T. Walls,
Benjamin Turner, John R. Lynch,
And R. B. Elliott, who'd grace the bench,
George Wash, Murray, H. Plummer Cheatham,
Were "black belt" men—'twas hard to beat 'em.

John Hyman from the Old North State
Was mongst the first, though mentioned late;
James E. O'Hara, polished, grand,
Would take high rank in any land;
Thomas E. Miller won his seat
By contest with the man he beat;
And then the last to greet our sight,
Was that old Roman, George H. White.

Some mentioned here by my weak pen
Stand equal with the world's great men,
As lawyers, statesmen, orators,
Soldiers and rich contributors
To that august, illustrious page
Found in the annals of this age,
Which shows Yankee dexterity,
Our wealth and great prosperity.

Shame on Columbia.

Sad is the thought that they are gone.
In halls of Congress, there's not one
Now left, the blacks’ rights to defend,
Or upon whom they may depend.
O shame on thee, Columbia fair!
Wearing thy sacrimonious air
Of equal justice, mercy, truth,
And righteousness, when thou, forsooth,

Hast grown with thy commercial lust
To be untruthful, base, unjust,
And blinded by the goddess, Wrong,
To yield the sceptre to the strong.
Thy former precepts cast aside
And God's known laws are unapplied,
While thou, with calm, unblushing cheek,
See unjust laws oppress the weak.

Then think a race can be content
Without a voice to represent
Their aims, their needs, their civil rights,
Their cries for justice through the nights
Made dark by prejudicial wrath,
While stones of hatred block their path,
And storms of opposition leap
Around their couches as they sleep?

Columbia, pray, in justice's name,
Does not thy conscience shrink in shame
When thou thyself herald to be
"Home of the brave, land of the free,"
The only true democracy?
Are all thy claims hypocrisy?
Say, do the people make the laws,
Or are they held beneath the paws

Of trusts and giant corporations,
Of filthy rings and combinations
Of scheming, lying politicians,
Who buy and steal their high positions,
As judges, leaders, legislators,
Governors, mayors and conservators
Of all the people's vested rights
For which they've waged their hardest fights?

Who are the People—How Classed.

Columbia, as thy numbers grow,
Wilt thou let anxious mortals know
Who are the people thou dost boast
When thou, computing thy great host,
Of eighty million busy souls,
Sayest thou that thy broad domain holds?
Has thy boasted democracy
Become one vile autocracy?

Shall one-eighth of thy population
Be shorn of all consideration
In voicing what shall be the share
Of the country's burdens they should bear?
Dost thou suppose they'll rest content
To count in the apportionment
Of Congress men, as subjects patient,
But stripped of voice in legislation?

Who are the~people? Let us know
Whether they be the rich or poor,
The stupid, ignorant or wise,
The dwarfs in form or large of size,
The black or white, the working men,
Or the ease-loving citizen,
English or Greek, German or Jew,
Tell us Columbia, who is who?

In a republic, every man
Equal in rights, is said to stand;
And should the humblest so desire
He may for president aspire.
Nothing forestalls his rights sublime
Save treason or a heinous crime
Against the laws made by the state
Which Justice will not tolerate.

Then proud Columbia, tell us why
Tlfou standest unconcernedly by
And seest thy garments filled with slime,
Thy strong descendants steeped in crime,
Thy doctrines held in ridicule,
Thy laws evaded as a rule,
Thy statesmen solving, it would seem
If state or nation isi supreme?

Within thy borders, German, Russian,
Irish, Scottish, Polish, Prussian,
English, Swedish and Mexican,
Brazilian, Dutch and Chilian,
Frenchman, Spaniard and Panamese,
Italian, Swiss and Portuguese,
Mohamedan, Christian, Jew or Greek,
Thy land has captured so to speak.

Their ranks have bred the anarchists,
The infidels and socialists,
And foes of law in every form,
That shake the nation as a storm
The ships at sea hurl to and fro
Until they on the breakers go
Dismantled, wrecked, plunged in the deep
Where fearful monsters round them creep.

And still their wishes are respected,
And members of their bands elected
Their people's cause to represent,
Though have we more than ten per cent
Of loyal subjects native born,
But seemingly the nation's thorn,
Without one soul to plead their cause
In the nation's citadel of laws.

Let Justice break her sacred scales,
And have them fashioned into nails,
Wherewith to close the door of hope;
Make of her robes a mighty rope
To hang the Goddess Liberty,
Let Truth and Right in mockery
Her honored sword in atoms break
And arm her with a slimy snake.

Representation Necessary to Existence as Freemen.

Sad as this picture seems to be
Another just as sad we see
Existing in the different states
Where human law originates;
The will of the majority
Must yield to a minority
All legislative place and power
Whether the pill be sweet or sour.

When freedom came men recognized
The black's rights would be jeopardized
If in the draft of legislation
Their race was barred from representation,
And though despised and poor and weak,
A tribune needed they, to speak
Their wills, their aims, their just complaints,
Of measures that they were against.

And with the government's intentions
For constitutional conventions,
The Gordian knot to tie again
'Tween North and South then burned ill twain
By fiery brands of cruel war
'Twas then the nation black men saw
Officially, in those conventions,
Attracting diplomats' attentions.

Guided by laws of human nature,
Strove they to reach the legislature,
A place exalted in their eyes
Unto the joys of Paradise;
The very thing a former slave
With manhood robed, would surely crave;
And few have ever been accused
That they the honor had refused.

From North and South and middle West
As these states' records will attest,
From cotton fields and vast cane-brakes,
From Southern gulf and Northern lakes,
From bondsman's rags to robes of state,
Went forth black men to legislate;
"Went forth absolved from master's hand,
Honored law-makers of the land.

Some were ignorant and vicious;
Some were cultured and ambitious;
Some were an honor to their race;
As statesmen, some were a disgrace;
Some of them, bigots were and fools;
Some others were but useful tools
Of carpet-baggers, thieving, mean,
As foul a class as ever seen.

Some of these men in later years,
In Congress halls were filling chairs;
Some in their states took highest gifts
As officers, whom suffrage lifts
To an exalted altitude,
High up above the common brood
Of citizens, while others fell
So low, as to their suffrage sell.

Within one single Southern state
At one time there were sixty-eigbt
Members of the legislature,
(Were politics of such a nature),
And of that number, fifty-four
Were Negroes, and we must deplore
This fact, while picturing their plight;
Twelve men could neither read nor write.

And half of those that I have left,
Wholly and sadly were bereft
Of the knowledge of the use of pen.
But all the rest of those black men
With their white comrades, equal stood,
As patriotic, wise, and good,
And eloquent, who at the start
The state's uplifting had at heart.

So long as men their praises give
To worthy men, so long shall live
These men, in memory and in song,
These men who dared oppose the wrong,
These men who bribes of scoundrels scorned,
These men who ever stood forewarned
JOf their sworn duty to their states
Should live while old earth gravitates.

Scalawags and Renegades.

But bad as do these black men here
As worthy men seem to appear,
Their records shine just twice as bright
As do the records of their white
Colleagues; those men of ease and grace,
The seed of the Caucasian race
Did loot and steal and bring to shame
The party bearing Lincoln's name.

Methinks that it is very meet
That I should here some things repeat
Which I have uttered once before,
That we may see the very core
Of the disgraceful incidents
Which crept out in the governments
Of Southern states in these dark days
That know we reconstruction's ways.

The thing once said, again I'll say
Is, that black men were kept away
From plunder chests and treasury vault.
Nor has it ever been their fault
(Except in an unconscious way),
That politicians do now lay
The blame for Southern poverty
Caused by white men's rascality.

These white men, by their prominence,
Betrayed the utter confidence
Which black men had in them imposed,
And thus their party's name exposed
To everlasting infamy,
And the eternal enmity
Of the taxed burdened populace
Who paid the price of their disgrace.

And then these greedy jackals fled,
Leaving the South's tax-payers red
With righteous and undying wrath
Against their party; thus the path
Of honest men, both black and white
Republicans, see not in sight
A silver lining in the cloud
Which wraps their party like a shroud.

What else would men expect to see
Of people just from bondage free,
Who life's grave duties undertake,
But that they'd make some great mistake?
What should we term it but unjust
That they be censured for their trust
In those who broke their galling chains?
Should blood of ingrates course their veins?

Cries honor, no! The Negro race
May never hold the highest place
In art nor science, name nor law,
Nor may they boast their fame in war,
Still may the race hold high the head,
While all the world upon them shed
The well deserving platitude:
That they disdain ingratitude.

Justice demands that it be said
That some had "swelling of the head";
That freedom won by cruel war
Made license take the place of law;
Seemed some to think, since free were they
No longer orders they'd obey
From any man, but they must show
No fear of mankind did they know.

Their former masters took offense
At what they called impertinence.
The former mistress would not brook
An answer from her former cook;
Negroes were trained to be too meek
That they should dare to have the cheek
When they the voice of white-folks heard
Give answer with a single word.

The Ku Klux Klan Born.

At length the whites became inflamed
With passion that would not be tamed
Until their feelings had found vent
In the accustomed punishment
Of the offender, nor did they
Dare now to do this in the day;
Thus came they to adopt the plan
Of the infernal Ku Klux Klan.

This vile mysterious order new
Had first the object in its view
Of placing Negroes in the plight
Of living constantly in fright
*Of midnight visitors "from hell,"
Who'd drink ten gallons from a well,
By means of a long rubber hose
They bore beneath their outer clothes.

Regaled were they in robes of white
Which could be seen the darkest night;
And, by a rod hidden from sight,
Could raise their mask-heads twice the height
Of common mortals, and each horse,
Like his weird rider, was of course
In trappings long and white arrayed,
Which thoughts of ghostly haunts conveyed.

Nor failed they in their sworn intent;
Those strange nocturnal riders, sent
Through Negroes' blood, a sudden chill
That made them subject to the will
Of those they served, and soon they came
To tremble, when they heard the name
Of Ku Klux Klan, from foe or friend;
Their wooly hair would stand on end.

This plan was worked with such success
That this new Klan did soon address
Themselves to use of leathern thongs,
For the correction of the wrongs
Which they imagined to exist
As a great evil in their midst;
Meant they to hold the Negroes down
By force and fear, on farm and town.

Women and men they soundly beat
For any cause which raised the heat
Of fierce resentment of some deed
By blacks committed. They decreed
To take advantage of the clause
Encouched within those recent laws
That gave to black men equal rights
Which lifted them to loftiest heights.

But whipping failed to cure the ill.
So next determined they to kill
All of the leading politicians,
White men or black, who held positions
Supposed to be of consequence
To stamp them men of prominence
For leadership in black men's eyes,
That men of note would recognize.

Some men w£re by them, foully shot
Whether their deeds were bad or not;
Others to limbs and posts were hung;
Others in swollen streams were flung;
Some had their persons mutilated,
And some were found decapitated;
Some left their children, homes, and wives,
And fled away to save their lives.

And yet these blacks were not deterred
From manhood's path, for they preferred
To sleep in death than again to gain
The fetters of a master's chain
Feel, crushing either limb or will,
So they determined they would fill
Like valiant soldiers, martyrs' graves,
Rather than be accounted slaves.

With courage bold, those faithful souls
In spite of threats, went to the polls
And cast their ballots for the men
Thought they most likely to defend
Their freedom from the fierce attacks
Which men would make upon the blacks
As citizens; but this incites
The pent up anger of the whites.

Ballot-Box Stuffing.

And when the nation's war scarred chief
Ulysses Grant, had brought to grief
The order of the Ku Klux Klan.
The Whites fell on another plan
Concealed in hellish wickedness,
The Negroes' manhood to suppress;
And by well sought devices strange
Planned they the people's wills to change.

So they the ballot-boxes stuff
Until they got in votes enough
To change a weak minority
Into a big majority.
And later, when they come to see
That vote and registrar must agree,
Hit they upon a novel plan
To rob of vote the colored man.

*They metal ballot-boxes got
With rounded top and lengthy slot,
With two small passages within,
One slanting out, one slanting in,
The slanting one opened below,
So ballots dropped unto the floor;
The straight one let the ballots fall
Directly in the boxes all.

The black men's votes went to the floor,
While just the self-same number more
Into the boxes then were put,
The voting slots with seals were shut,
But showed when opened as before
The whites had put in hundreds more
Than had the blacks, though on the book
The blacks as winners surely look.

But these machines soon met their fate;
Proved they to be inadequate,
The wishes of the whites to meet,
So that these pesky blacks they'd cheat
Out of elections fairly won;
Resort they next unto the gun
In the hands of mounted red-shirt bands,
Who try intimidation plans.

Kept they the colored men away
From voting on election day,
By riots, threats and precious blood
Of Negroes in the neighborhood;
And by these methods desperate
Rose they to power within the state.
While did their leaders soon begin
To check all rights of colored men.

Before these facts do I relate,
Let us herein enumerate
Some of the things by black men done,
By being lofty, from men won
The very highest admiration
From every great enlightened nation
Which judge men by their brilliancy,
Save this great land of liberty.

Skilled Workmen.

Such splendid working men are they,
That o'er America today,
When unions turn to trouble makers
By standing forth as contract breakers,
Threatening the land's industrial life,
And causing hardship, hatred, strife,
And the curse of Cain to blanch men's faces,
Black men are found to take their places.

Men often ask how this is done,
And how on earth have black men won
Their treasure of industrial knowledge,
And where located was the college
Whence sprang such skillful denizens
Competing with the citizens
Whose unions barred them at their doors
To find them paying off old scores.

Know then that slavery was their school.
The large slave owners as a rule,
Had each, a slave to learn a trade
Embracing every useful grade.
And when came freedom to the nation,
The Negroes soon found occupation
As trained mechanics in demand,
And they, the only ones on hand.

The frugal and the thoughtful ones
Had as apprentices, their sons,
Who, by their sturdy pluck and will
Inherited their fathers' skill.
No great school of technology
Taught them the etymology
Of those skilled trades, although 'tis true
Of college bred ones were a few.

Black boys can now obtain such knowledge
Through study in some native college,
Known to the states as "A. and M.,"
The youths' industrial lamps to trim.
Then there is Hampton Institute
Kittrell, Tuskegee Institute,
And other worthy seminaries
Which are to these auxiliaries.

Likewise the schools of higher learning
Have shown of late that they were turning
To manual training some attention
Thereby avoiding much dissension
'Mongst factions of our population
As to the kind of education
Best suited to the queer condition
Of men found in the blacks' position.

And in the future, should they fail
As sons of Harvard and of Yale,
In life's great work to share a part,
Still masters will they be of art,
*From institutions noted, great,
With teachers fully adequate
Wisdom's choice teachings to impart
To him who shows a willing heart.

A most magnificent array
Of standard schools do we portray
When taking time their names to call,
Of those that stand a mighty wall
Of strength, and monument of light,
As trusty guides through pitchy night
Of ignorance compact and gross,
Which blights the lives it comes across
Academies not in the list

Are products of philanthropists,
So common at the present day,
And thus have we a good array
Of colleges and standard schools
To train our youth to know the rules
Which nerve them for the cares of strife
That they must overcome in life.

Though jealous and malicious foes
Their future usefulness oppose,
Though make they efforts to prescribe
The kind of learning blacks imbibe,
And though they swear the blacks must curb
Ambition's thirst, lest they disturb
The fountain of the nation's peace,
These institutions will not cease.

On, in their upward course they'll go,
And wisdom's fruitful seeds will sow,
Till those who do the blacks deny
Their rights, shall not give reason why
That they could find none qualified
Among the number that applied,
With needed intellectual skill
That could the place with honor fill.

Besides, where wisdom's flag has flown
Who dares attempt to haul it down?
What wretch would dare to show the "brass"
To pick a nation or a class
Of freeborn citizens to be
Debarred from reaching knowledge's tree?
Of cowardice the language smacks
Opposing educated blacks.

What have these institutions done
Which should have endless praises won
From men bestripped of prejudice?
What agency or edifice
Through whose influence you can trace
The uplift of the Negro race
From beasts of slavery consigned,
To creatures cultured and refined?


Let the historian's pen devote
A page to colored men of note.
And let their splendid records show
Whether high schools should stay or go;
Let those who teach the world by pen,
Proclaim the deeds of colored men
Who in life's struggles play their parts
In the fields of science and of arts.

As theologians, do we see
Great doctors of divinity,
The rivals of the world's great preachers,
Its Spurgeons, Talmages, and Beechers,
Polished, refined, and eloquent,
And in equipment, competent
The Master's teachings to expound,
And scoffing infidels confound.

Their mission at all times has been
The race to lead from paths of sin,
Dishonor, vice and laziness,
Into the ways of righteousness,
Forbearance, truth, and rectitude,
And that they have their hearts imbued
With Christ, the Lord's redeeming love,
Descending from His throne above.

When in the land the air was rife
With seeming inter-racial strife,
When angry factions sullen stood
Ready to shed each other's blood,
When man, inspired by burning hate
Could not his fellows tolerate,
When one a glaring deed had done
To aggravate the other one,

When busy-bodies plots would hatch
To set to powder-horn, the match,
These preachers On the scene would loom
And labor to avert the doom
Of carnal strife, to God prayed they
That men, their country's laws obey.
Do they abiding patience preach
And doctrines of forbearance teach.

When men are roasted at the stake,
When men their thirst for vengeance slake
In lynching bees and lawless mobs,
When fiendish orgies drown the sobs
Of Justice, outraged, bleeding, crushed,
The mutterings of revenge are hushed,
And torch and axe are unapplied
Because black preachers stem the tide.

Nor does it matter what they preach,
The vicious class they cannot reach,
Because the scoundrels stay away
From the place where good men preach and pray.
Their beastly passions hatch and thrive
In whiskey shops and hellish dives
Where ministers would fear to go,
Lest they the seeds of scandal sow.

Still are black preachers ostracised,
And by traducers ill advised
As to the sermons they should preach
So that the lawless class they reach.
They're forced by rude intimidation
*Preach "Hell eternal and damnation "
When they'd remove the cause of strife
By teaching men eternal life.

Dare hypocrites to place a ban
On messages God sends to man
By men with holy zeal inspired?
Informed are they what is desired
By the Omniscient Trinity
**As sermons for his ministry?
Should they preach what men order, then
I'd hold, religion sprang from men.


Most men disdainful pictures draw
Of learned Counsellors at Law,
But I this declaration drop:
That, not since from Mt. Sinai's top
Was handed down the law from God,
To Moses, has there ever trod
On mother earth, men more profound
Or, for their country's good more sound.

'Tis theirs to guard the rights of men,
The alien or the citizen;
To thwart the purpose of the strong,
By laws of might, to right the wrong;
To punish those who violate
The sacred mandates of the state;
To see that justice never fails
To balance true her time-worn scales.

The law has been a stepping stone
For those who sought to gain renown
In the fields of statesmanship so grand
Where they can other men command,
Or where the laws by them are made
Or they must see they are obeyed.
The law's bold Guardians will here stand
Mongst men most honored in the land.

Within a land of prejudice,
Stands there a rocky precipice
Between the mountain of success
And distant valley of egress
Of Negroes to the legal field,
But, armed with resolution's shield
Those clifts, with courage they've assailed
And by sheer pluck, their heights have scaled.

These knights have golden laurels won,
And stumbling blocks have overcome,
And proved that hidden legal lore
So highly prized in the days of yore,
Has yielded to the Negro's blade,
Them taught that they be not afraid
Mid visions dark and treatment cold,
But forward press with courage bold.

So let their legal efforts be
In the cause of civil liberty
With might directed. Make men know
That they on breakers sharp will go
When they the law attempt to twist
To suit the whiners who insist
That manhood rights are for a class
And not intended for the mass.

    Noted Negro lawyers are: Macon Allen Williams, H. H. Hart, John M. Langston, Albert White, R. B. Elliot, George H. White, James Fiddler Dennison, Edward H. Morris, George Jackson, Josiah T. Settle, George Woodson, W. Justin Carter, James Napier, Charles W. Chestnut, D. A. Straker, Lloyd Wheeler, Thomas Walker, Samuel McElwee, B. S. Smith, T. McCant Stewart and his son, Gilchrist Stewart, William Pledger.


The doctor, with his drops and bills,
Prescribed to remedy our ills,
Importance showing in his face,
Has been an honor to his race;
Has shown to superstitious blacks
The worthlessness of filthy quacks
And "conjurers," who claim they fix
Their patients' health by means of "tricks."

Two thousand strong their ranks advance
Like armored knights with polished lance,
Leading the charge ag-ainst disease
Which they have overcome with ease.
The blacks' unsanitary laws
They found to be the leading cause
Of vital loss, and pestilence,
Due largely to their ignorance.

They fill a long-felt racial need,
For, ever since the blacks were freed,
But few have given any thought
To ills with which their lives were fraught.
Now black physicians eminent,
Have shown the dangers prevalent
From carelessness and crowded homes
Whence most of their diseases come.


The world with veneration, looks
On authors of instructive books.
He who has written such an one
Has much for civilization done;
In fact, the most of knowledge gained
Of lasting import, was attained
From standard books and busy pen
Of leading educated men.

What has the Negro in his time
Accomplished in this field sublime?
Has his so-called benighted brain
Been found well fitted to attain
By hallowed inspiration's flight
And culture, to ascend the height
Of authorship's great mountain steep
With books instructive, weighty, deep?

Has climbed a race in forty years
From ignorance gross, to be the peers
Of men of letters? Have they shown
That they have brain as well as bone?
Does this not show upon its face
That genius knoweth none by race,
Religion, color, cut of hair,
But by their mighty works laid bare?

Black authors have we manifold
Well stored with wisdom, manly, bold,
And pregnant with a burning zeal
Through splendid books, to make appeal
Unto enlightened sentiment
That there be some acknowledgement
Where merit counts in wisdom's plan
The Negro proves himself a man.

Historians, poets, text-books, songs,
And magazines repeat the wrongs
The colored race has undergone,
And their ill treatment has been shown
By colored writers, minstrels, clowns,
And orators; and yet their wounds
Afresh, in pain are made to bleed
By many a dark Satanic deed.


Those soft, poetic melodies
Whose strains the muses recognize
As from the gods, a gift inspired,
To daring deeds, men's hearts have fired.
With love have set the heart aflame,
With scorn, the traitor clothed in shame;
Have brought the Christian inward peace
And given wounded spirits ease.

They who with seraphs would commune.
To verse their voices must attune;
Must revel midst the thrilling rhymes
On noble deeds or sacred hymns;
Must soar to mystic regions sought
Beyond the realms of vulgar thought.
Of right, enamoured must they prove,
And nature's beauties must they love.

Must worship virtue, hate the wrong,
The weak must help and praise the strong,
On Christian teachings must depend,
And helpless mortals must defend.
A name immortal will appear
Within the lines Which follow here,
Who, like Shakespeare and Tennyson
Through verse the world's esteem has won.

Paul Laurence Dunbar.

Life's tournament is being run,
And in the contests there must none
Save men of world-wide fame appear
And trappings of knighterrants bear.
A black knight, bearing sword and shield,
A stranger on this honored field
Unbidden comes; the brazen thing
Has shied his castor in the ring!

This knight in sable armor clad
The best knights challenged! Is he mad
That he should dare the courses run
With Shakespeare, Byron, Tennyson,
Longfellow, Bryant, Pope and Poe?
How dares he thus such spirit show
When giant knights like these contend
For honor's wreath and glory's end?

The bugle sounds; the knights advance
Sword clangs to sword, lance points to lance,
The Black Knight's plume is seen to wave
Amongst the bravest of the brave.
He reels from many a well-aimed blow;
'Tis over! Is he unhorsed? NO!!!
Unscathed he rides from honor's field
With victory written on his shield!

Who is this dauntless, sable knight
Who won his way to yonder height
Of eminence? Give us the name
His shield will bear in the hall of fame!
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Afric's son
This day the wreath of fame has won.
His name for aye is handed down
Mongst bards and poets of renown.

Paul Laurence Dunbar, thou hast won
Renown not for thyself alone,
But for thy persecuted race
Have thy great poems won a place
Mongst men of letters, and have taught
The men who delve in realm of thought
Jehovah, in creation's plan,
Equipped the Negro as a man.

Financial Success.

Since earth dropped from the potter's mould
Have men bowed down to worship gold.
For gold, was taught the sword to kill,
For gold, the earth was sowed with ill,
For gold, will most men plot and lie,
For gold, will some men freely die,
For gold, some reprobates will sell
Their souls for aye, to death and hell.

Gold forged the chains of Negro slaves;
Gold makes the ship to ride the waves;
Gold forms the diplomatic corpse,
Signs treaties to increase its store;
Gold strikes the scales from Justice's hands;
And bids her yield to its demands;
Twas gold the nation's anger hushed
When manhood rights lay bleeding, crushed.

The Negro, penniless, forlorn,
When he to freedom's world was born,
Soon grasped this disposition old,
To join the miaddened rush for gold.
Necessities have been denied,
And pomp and pleasure cast aside,
And through fierce hunger, cold and rain,
Toiled he, this tempting gold to gain.

Let writers of the future show
How wealth to him began to flow
Despite the fact that men in wrath,
With opposition strewed his path;
And as for snares, there was no lack
Of them, devised to hold him back,
The busy marts to him were closed
And his debut in arts opposed.

By practicing frugality,
And keeping will, vitality,
By patience, care and industry,
Within the half a century
From mendicants have thousands come,
Masters of money, farms and homes;
Have helped to give the nation health
By sharing largely in its wealth.

Those who have made the estimate,
Declare the figures indicate
A billion dollars more or less
Would purchase not what they possess;
And with their well-earned wealth they've brought
Debasement to the men who've taught
That they were lazy, shiftless fools
Who'd shirk the use of workman's tools.

A case of fatal irony,
Shows Isaiah T. Montgomery
Has by the labor of his arms,
Made funds to buy Jeff Davis' farms,
Which must have caused the owner tears
To have the savings of his years
Revert to creatures whom! he said
Had not the sense to earn their bread.

Now this is not the only case,
For through the Southland you can trace
Hundreds, yea, thousands of the same,
Where former owners now in shame
Behold their farms by Negroes owned,
Themselves in want, their sons dethroned,
And they, almost in every case,
Have envy for the rising race.

'Tis not the Negro tendencies
For ill, that stir up prejudice;
'Tis not because of shiftlessness
That oft he's found in idleness;
'Tis not because he labor shirks
That blocks his path to public works ;
'Tis not because that he is poor
That hope must close to him her door.

'Tis not because of ignorance
That he's denied an equal chance
To conquer in the raging strife
For mastery in the walks of life;
But 'tis because the rules of caste
Declare that he has climbed too fast;
He therefore must be held in check,
Or else the walls of caste he'll wreck.

Know then, in forty years alone
A landed acreage they own,
More than two kingdoms, rich, refined,
Holland and Belgium combined.
Let some one answer—at this rate
How long before they'll own a state
Or tier of states, on native soil,
Where they in slavery learned to toil?

The old log huts they've cast aside,
And in their places they provide
Themselves with costly mansions fair,
With furnishings and comforts rare.
Their farms, sufficiently are stocked,
Their graneries are filled and locked,
Their children in the school are found,
And peace and plentitude abound.


Amid the great Antillian isles
Where tropic sun in grandeur smiles
On San Domingo's fertile plains,
Where Afric's children once in chains
The whole of that republic own,
And rules as rules a king his throne,
Was born of parentage obscure,
The great Toussaint L’Ouverture.

Scan the whole race for worth within,
He greatest was of Negro men.
For fifty years an humble slave,
Though of a heart both stout and brave.
He yielded meekly to the will
Of his indulgent owner, 'till
In desperation, secretly,
The slaves struck for their liberty.

Though planned he not the overthrow
Of slavery, he to the fore
Of those commanding, soon did rise,
When genius to organize,
And great ability to plan
Were seeking for the proper man
With courage bold to lead the way,
And sense enough to win the day.

King Alexander was called great
(As ancient histories relate)
Because the whole known world ruled he
When he was only thirty-three;
'Tis a3so said he wept because
In conquering kings, he had to pause;
Because of kingdoms, there were none
Whose monarchs he had not dethroned.

His father, Philip, ruled a throne,
And he no other life had known
Save one of war and pomp and power
And giving orders every hour;
Was cradled in experience's school,
And tutored how to lead and rule
His countrymen, in war and peace,
As well became a son of Greece.

Stands Hannibal in bold relief
As the greatest military chief
Of all the ages; yet he too 
Up, in the camp, a soldier grew;
In arts of war was taught the ways,
Engaged in warfare all his days,
And was unconquerable because
lie knew all military laws.

Scotland, in singing her sad fate
Can boast her Bruce, in prowess great;
That country's sovereign for a while,
And then was chased into exile.
He calls his followers once more
And wins his kingdom back before
The proud usurpers of his crown
Could muster men to hold him down.

Gained Caesar greatness on that morn
He crossed the tempting Rubicon,
Which marked his sphere of rule in Rome,
And won the empire for his own.
This know, who are with Caesar charmed,
He conquered Rome with Roman arms,
And Roman treasure in his trust,
To satiate ambition's lust.

Napoleon, the warrior he,
The favored son of destiny,
The kingdoms of the world o'erturned,
Their kings uncrowned, their cities, burned
Their fields were strewn with soldiers dead
And France's proud banner o'er them spread
This fact upon men's minds I'd stamp:
This man was cradled in the camp.

In youth, the rudiments of law
He mastered, and the arts of war
In will, in purpose, and in heart.
Knew he, and was himself a part
On life's great stage, he only wrought
On other men what he was taught;
How best to wield the sword to kill,
And mankind bend to do his will.

Then let us take our favorite son,
The first in all things,—Washington,
This nation freed he for our own
And first received the ruler's crown,
And, from the laws which have been since
Enacted here, all governments
Their form of rule have modified,
So that the ballots now decide,

Who holds a seat in parliament,
Congress, and chair of president,
But Washington had won applause
For gallantry in Indian wars,
Which fitted him in after life
For leader in the fiercer strife,
When by a well-directed stroke
Freed he this land from British yoke.

You men who laud our Grant and Lee
For deeds of valor, must agree
That in the civil war, they fought
As they at West Point had been taught.
If by assault, or. in defense
Their soldiers gained great prominence,
The world decided as a rule
They'd prove the merits of their school.

But not a command ever knew
The great Toussaint L'Ouverture,
And in his youth he never saw
Within a book of common law,
Was reared to be another's tool
Without a dream he'd ever rule
His native isle, a shining star,
A very king—an emperor.

When revolution's banner red,
O'er San Domingo's soil was spread,
This untaught man, this trusty slave,
Was found the bravest of the brave.
By far the wisest of the wise,
The cynosure of wise men's eyes;
The organizer, leader, judge,
Without whose orders none dared budge.

He broke the heavy bondsman's chain
Whicfr bound Domingo fast to Spain,
Then with" the Warrior's polished lance
Beat back the soldiers of proud France,
And' with a will preeminent,
He took the reins of government
And "First among the blacks became,
By valiant deeds as well as name.

In state-craft, General L'Ouverture
Had builded wiser than he knew.
And hundred years have rolled away,
And still triumphant stands today
"The Black Republic" pertinent
Unto his worth, a monument.
A land where black men make the laws
Despite their many civil wars.

Although her colors show the scars
Of insurrections, civil wars,
And their attending poverty,
Still theirs has been the novelty
Of black men's rule without the sights
Of cannibals and heathen rights
Which haters of the blacks declare
If blacks should rule would be their share.

This wholesome truth the world should know:
That these black people war no more
Than do their neighbors 'round about,
Who war within and war without
Their country's borders, year by year,
Till nations start not when they hear
That some mad tropic Lochinvar
Has loosed his howling dogs of war.


Behold! A bright oasis green
On" Afric's Western coast is seen
To rise to an important post
Where dwelt a long benighted host
Of savage men, untamed, untaught,
Whose barren minds on which a thought
Of higher life had found no root
From which intelligence could sprout.

Where once no sun of hope appeared,
Behold how heathen hearts, are cheered
By rays of light which penetrate
The clouds of their benighted state;
And?1 wisdom's stream now ripples by
Where once the soil was parched and dry;
Is seen to grow a government
Where tribal strife was prevalent.

'Tis thus Liberia has shown
What blacks can do when left alone,
When once the seeds of liberty
Are planted in their memory.

Though treachery brought him to grief,
His country found a worthy chief
In Dessalines, the warrior
The black hot-blooded emperor,
Who by his cunning, wisdom, pluck,
And daring mixed with splendid luck

Crushed out Domingo's opposition,
And she, a nation, took position.
Let those who daily find excuse
The Negro's progress to traduce,
Behold Liberia's showing grand
With obstacles on every hand.

Conscience, that monitor which comes
Into the worse sin-ridden homes,
Vile man to warn of pending fate
Should he continue in a state
Of disregard of God's decrees,
The hearts of some slave owners seized
And pricked, till they had seen it fit
That they their slaves should manumit.

But fit it would not prove to be
That Negroes bound and Negroes free
Should be permitted side by side
In daily contact to abide;
For those who were with freedom blessed
Would soon inoculate the rest
With freedom's germ, when must the wall
Of hellish human slavery fall.

To save this institution then,
From sudden death, did these white men
Unto the government apply
To have it plant a colony
For blacks, on Afric's Western shore,
Where might loosed blacks in freedom go,
Unhampered, and begin to build
A home according to their will.

Liberia was found to be
The spot to found this colony;
And slaves now freed by will or court,
Such would the government transport
Unto this land 'neath tropic skies,
Where they must either fall or rise,
According to the grit within
Just as the world tried other men.

Slave owners held it was a sin
To send these Negroes back again
To Africa, for soon they'd be
Addicted to idolatry
And superstition's magic charms
Would soon enfold them in its arms,
While idleness and poverty,
Would bring to settlement decay.

That cannibals, the land would breed
And lives of wretchedness they'd lead,
And guided by the knowledge here
Attained, would be the leaders there,
In fetish lore and tribal wars
And prove a menace to the cause
Of mission work, and slavers' plans
For treatment of the heathen lands.

To Haiti do they love to point
As a republic out of joint,
And, as a nation, a disgrace,
"Which should be banished from the face
Of this progressive hemisphere,
But ne'er in print does it appear
How well Liberia stands the test
Of government, with all the rest.

Liberia, though weak and poor
And unprotected, has done more
By splendid rule to show to earth
That Negroes have intrinsic worth
As other men, and when content,
Are capable of government
Of selves and their upgrowing seed
As men of any race or breed.

She holds the world's respect, because
Of honesty and righteous laws;
Her treaty obligations kept,
As treasures stored within the depth
Of iron vaults, and none have cause
To rail on her organic laws;
And equal rights are not denied
To those who in the land abide.
Long may Liberian Statehood live,
And may all Afric's sons receive
Through her, progress and racial pride,
That they may early cast aside
Their idols crude, their heathen rites,
Their proneness to engage in fights,
And their detested custom old
That they should men in bondage hold.

Liberia, thou art the door
Through which should missionaries pour
To Afric's teeming millions lost,
Who know not of the Holy Ghost,
Nor that the Savior bled and died
That their souls might be satisfied
Through his life blood, to live for aye
In realms of everlasting day.


Thou Abyssinia, Afric's own,
Show forth the deeds which thou hast done
Of gallantry. Tell of the hoards
That perished by thy trusty swords;
Let history's page tell how thy name
Arose from ridicule to fame,
And why great nations pay respect
To thy great ruler, Menelek.

The kings of Europe did decide
That they'd among themselves divide
The dark benighted continent
Of Africa: they therefore sent
Our strong detachments, adequate
These heathen lands to subjugate,
And that each nation's flag should fly
An emblem of authority.

Spain, England, Germany and France,
And Holland, made the natives dance
To music, by their soldiers made,
And Portugal likewise essayed
Her sphere of action to extend
That she and Holland in the end
Each an important ruling power
Would stand a proud colossal tower.

The grasping sons of England steal
The known world's richest diamond field
And bursting mines of precious gold
Which Southern Afric's bowels hold;
And her possessions, East and West,
O'er that doomed continent attest
That John Bull's mandates are supreme
On every mountain, plain and stream.

O'er Egypt's ancient dynasty
The British's claim of sovereignty
Unchallenged stand, thus putting forth
Her conquering legions to the North.
The Germans, too, in Afric sieze
Some rich possessions, West and East;
The doctrine bringing forth to light
That with strong nations, might makes right.

The French laid claim unto the land
Of the Sahara and the Soudan,
While o'er the three Barbary states
She claimed to have protectorates.
Contented were the Portuguese
To claim two of the provinces
Of distant Ethiopian kings,
As though were they unfeeling things.

Proud Italy declared that she
Held by her majesty's decree,
That strip of territory known
As stately Abyssinian throne,
But Menelek, the king, demurred,
And by a solemn oath averred
That when uncrowned was seen his head,
Would lie his body bleeding, dead.

What ruler of the land or sea
Could greater than the Negus be?
Who'd on his soil incur his wrath?
As foe, who'd dare to cross his path?
He warned Italians to beware
Should they attempt his lands to share,
For should they on his borders tread,
The land would bristle with their dead.

But the Italian greed was stirred
So that they heeded not a word
He said, nor of a danger dreamed,
For not in history was it teemed
That the detested African
Would dare attempt to place a ban
On the Caucasians, who had grown
To think the world was all their own.

Went forth the arms of Italy
Resolved to punish bitterly
This Negro king, this heathen fop,
Who dared to threaten that he'd stop
With his weak arms, the white man's will.
He needed grinding in the mill
Of the gods of war, until his pride
And kingly dreams were cast aside.

Failed they to reckon with their host,
For when had they the borders crossed
Of Abyssinia's broad expanse—
For landing scarce had they a chance,
Then like a well formed hurricane,
Which devastates the populous plain,
The Negus, who his warriors led,
Bestrewed the landscape with their dead.

Those brave Italians charged in vain,
For soon they were repulsed again
By scions of the Numidian hosts,
Which years agone, had swept the coasts
Of the immortal empire—Rome,
When Carthage to her gates had come
With Hannibal, the strategist,
So Menelik they now assist.

Fought for rich treasure, Italy,
While Abyssinians, gallantly
For love of king and country fought ,
Nor would her soldiers stand for aught
Of yielding to a foreign power
The throne, till slain had been the flower
Of Abyssinia's noble sons
And none were left to handle guns.

But soon the bloody work was o'er,
As everything was swept before
The fury of those black brigades,
With modern guns and shining blades;
Those proud invaders turned and fled
With thousands of their comrades dead
And dying on the battle-field,
And Abyssinia's fate was sealed.

For now she stands a nation proud,
Her claim for membership allowed
Within the bound of sovereign states,
A fact which plainly indicates
That guns and swords of Menelek
Have won his country great respect
From those great nations of the North,
Who loudly sing his country's worth.


The Cuban soil from last to first
Has been with insurrections curst;
Her fertile fields untitled, neglected,
Her sons and daughters unprotected,
Her sturdy children made to feel
The grinding of the tyrant's heel;
Her crops destroyed, her cities razed,
And Cubans by injustice crazed.

But now has dawned a brighter day,
Her harsh task-masters swept away
Have been, by means of trusty guns
And daring of her noble sons.
She had as gallant leaders these:
Bandera, Garcia, and Gomez,
But he who struck the hardest blow
Was the intrepid Maceo.

The cruel Weyler, baffled he
By his great feats of bravery.
Crossed he the "Trocha" at his will;
His fierce attacks planned he with skill,
And as the hawk in open day
The farmers' poultry bears away,
He took this leader's Spanish forts
And Spain to foul deceit resorts.

She knew no peace would Cuba know
While lived the fearless Maceo;
So she concocts a dastard's plot
To lure him to some lonely spot
With flag of truce and false pretense,
And, when removed from his defense,
To kill him basely in cold blood,
While all the world in horror stood.

The Cuban War.

When those misguided sons of Spain
In deviltry, blew up the Maine,
Their monarch heard the eagle's scream,
And bayonets were seen to gleam
Like polished brass before the sun,
The Negro soldier took his gun
In answer to his country's call
Which sought the aid of yeomen all.

Together with white troops they land,
Together on strange soil they stand,
Together with the whites they share
Their rations of the poorest fare;
Together fall they by disease,
Together camp they 'neath the trees,
Together 'neath their country's flag
Charge they the yellow Spanish rag.

Together faced they cannon's breath,
Together lay they cold in death.
'Gainst Spanish trench at Siboney,
And block-house forts at El Caney,
'Gainst musketry from hidden foe
'Gainst barbed wire in marshes low,
The colored soldiers side by side
With their white comrades, bled and died.

On San Juan Hill is seen to fly
The flag of Spanish tyranny,
While in the valley far below
Is heard the thrilling bugle's blow.
Men clad in khaki uniform
Began that deadly hill to storm;
'Tis but a Spanish compliment
From the Rough Rider regiment.

The hill they climb with flying feet;
When suddenly the Spaniards greet
Their dauntless ranks with shot and shell,
And from the lines their comrades fell;
But on, with courage bold they go
Not heeding wounds nor death, when lo!
Their lines become inmeshed in wire,
And hotter grows the Spanish fire.

And while they stand like beasts at bay,
Those Spanish lines are swept away,
Their ranks completely put -to route
And Roosevelt's troopers with a shout
Acknowledge their delivery
From massacre and butchery—
By colored troopers true as flint
Known as the "Fighting Ninth and Tenth."

No military history
Can show that works of infantry,
By cavalry dismounted, form,
And with their carbines, take by storm.
But this by colored troop was done,
And by the victory which they won
Was Roosevelt succored in his tent
To be "Rough Rider President.

A nation for its fairness famed,
Stands in the eyes of nations shamed,
Reviled, condemned, and held to scorn,
Its boasted love of justice gone,
Its flag no more a shield to those
Escaping from oppression's doors,
Its honest men ashamed to speak
When other nations press their weak.

The cloak of right is cast aside,
The club of might is now applied;
Fair Justice has been gagged and bound;
Injustice reigns, in harshness gowned;
Proud Liberty lies murdered by,
A beam is thrust in Mercy's eye;
Dame Charity on stones is fed;
Religion is to hatred wed.

*Brave Mingo Sanders, grizzled, scarred
From years of service, now stands: barred
From soldier's rights; his honor gone,
Though not for aught that he has done,
And though were spent his days in strife,
An outcast must he be for life.
Of nobleness he shows no lack,
But none the less—his skin is black.

Not in disgrace, alone, he went;
Three companies of his regiment,
All veterans of many wars,
All, covered with their battle scars,
All, of the foulest crimes accused,
All, trial by the law refused,
And all as felons, cast adrift
Forever, for themselves to shift.

This seems the irony of fate 
For Negro men who serve their state.
Their bravest deeds are all forgot
And they are styled a sorry lot,
Unworthy of the rights of men,
Because some brute with dusky skin
A crime revolting should commit
Which would a savage beast befit.

Philippine War.

On that auspicious first of May,
When Dewey, at Manila Bay
The nations of the world amazed,
And his loved country's prestige raised
By his unequaled victory
O'er hostile ships in open sea.
Black sailors were amongst his crew
And did their share of fighting too.

And through those military scenes
Enacted in the Philippines,
Where men who fought for liberty
From Spanish greed and tyranny,.
Their forces with the Yankees joined
To have their lands by them, purloined,
Their hopes of freedom cast aside,
Their chiefs, as traitors, crucified.

And now their very blood runs cold
When Negro soldiers they behold
Mongst their despoilers; this alone
Transforms their noble hearts to stone,
To see their brethren shot to death
By men just snatched from slavery's breath,
While fought they then, that they might see
Their lands from despotism free.

National Ingratitude.

And though great wonders have they wrought,
And though in every war they've fought,
Though largely owners of the soil,
Though showing willingness to toil,
Though thrusting ignorance aside,
And for themselves do they provide,
The nation's conscience soundly slept,
While manhood rights were from them swept.

0, callous nation, have a care,
Thy soil's defenders dost thou dare
The boon of equal rights deny?
Why sit'st thou unconcernedly by
And see these men and sons debased,
Their deeds on battle-fields effaced,
Their loud appeals for justice hushed
While ill use has their spirits crushed?

Know thou that fell the mighty Rome
From cliques and discontent at home?
Beholdest thou, proud Russia's state
With dissolution at her gate?
Hast thou observed that it is caused
By the injustice of her laws?
Think'st thou canst thou to wrong incline
And her sad fate will not be thine?

Sad is the thought, the nation slept,
And peeping stars in pity wept,
The Devil saw, and danced in mirth
To see his minions rule on earth;
All nations watched with bated breath
And said it meant the country's death.
The Negroes saw and gasped for breath
For well they knew that sleep meant death.

The nation slept, while plotting heads
Its Magna Charta tore in shreds;
That precious document so dear
To patriots, they curse, and sneer;
Its declarations sanctified,
Do they attempt to set aside;
Its plainest meanings, mixed have been,
By men's interpretations mean.

The nation slept, while lawyers sought
That bill of rights to bring to naught
By subterfuges in the law,
Wherein each lawyer finds a flaw.
In this their work, they find support
In rank decisions of the court
*Which gave as cause in one great case
"Characteristics of the race."

The nation sleeps, while anarchy
Roams o'er this wretched country, free;
The howling mob has been enthroned
While outraged law in anguish, groaned;
The air is stifled with the stinch
Of ghastly victims of Judge Lynch;
The courts of law disfavored stood,
While cutthroats smeared the land with blood.

The nation sleeps, while human frames
Are fed alive to hungry flames
For crimes unproven, or a word
Of legal evidence is heard.
Black men accused, are hung and shot,
Whether the mob is sure or not
The deed so charged was ever done,
Or if they have the guilty one.

The nation sleeps! "Grandfather's Clause"
Enacted is, among the laws
Of commonwealths, with the intent
The Negro's manhood to prevent.
The Constitution's rule, applied,
Allows no set of men denied
The right, a freeman's vote to cast
Despite his color or his past.

The nation sleeps, and men, for gold,
Like dogs, are into bondage sold;
Yea, peonage methinks, is worse
Than any form of slavery's curse,
Because the owner tried to be
Protection for his property,
But those now sold in peonage
Have none their bruises to assuage.

The nation sleeps, injustice stalks
Within the courts, and justice balks
Whenever blacks, accused, are tried,
Their evidence is set aside;
The worst is theirs, it matters not
If they unjustly have been shot;
If whites their daughters should insult,
'Tis death to mention the result.

The nation sleeps, black men of pride
On "Jim Crow" cars are forced to ride;
Not for the betterment of state,
But proud blacks to humiliate;
Aliens to teach, and citizen,
That Negroes are not counted men,
But that inferiors must they be
Despite their wealth or energy.

The nation sleeps1, while on they go
To the crater of a volcano;
A seething, whirling tongue of flame
Has shot aloft in justice's name,
Which soon the nation's life will choice
With fire, and blood, and battle-smoke,
With frenzied shriek, and dying groan
Unless injustice they dethrone.

The nation sleeps 'mid constant groan
Of patient blacks, while doleful moan
For murdered sons, from mothers rise
To Him who rules in Paradise;
Like Rachel, they their children mourn,
And comfort's blessings they'll have none,
But from their hearts with sorrow gored
They cry aloud for vengeance's sword.

The nation sleeps, while racial hate
Is growing rife in every state;
Banished has been the dove of peace;
The vulture, malice, from its leash,
Unloosed, the nation's breadth has flown,
And horrid tares of hatred sown;
The serpent envy, from his lair,
Has scattered poison everywhere.

Appeal to Heaven.

The nation sleeps, Jehovah, Jove,
Thou Archive of incarnate love,
Our First, Beginning, Middle, End,
Thou man's Creator, Father, Friend,
Alpha, Omego, Source of Light, 
Great God, Immortal, Infinite,
Exhaustless Fountain, Highest, Best,
Eternal Rock of Righteousness.

Thou Uncreated, Thou the Just,
Thou ruler, Whom Thy servants trust,
Preserver, Maker, Counsellor,
Omniscient Spirit, Governor,
Our Life, our Hope, our Guide, our Reed,
Our Refuge in the time of need,
Thou Dazzling Sun, incline thine ear
Unto thy servant's humble prayer.

Eternal God, Thy grace impart,
Look down in pity, Thou who art
The Ruler of the universe,
We pray Thee, Lord, remove the curse
Of hate and prejudice that stand
With ill design and fiery brand
Men's hearts to torture; on a race
Of helpless creatures, turn Thy face.

O God, this sleeping nation wake,
Ere men in desperation, take
To vengeance, as their moral guide,
And those now dwelling side by side,
Will ruthlessly be thrust apart,
While murder stalks in every heart,
And desolation's barren arms
Invade our factories and our farms.

Great God! Before me smells a flood
Of revolution's crimson blood;
Blood of the youthful and the old,
Blood of the timid and the bold,
Blood of the babe on mother's knee,
Blood of that mother, ruthlessly
Butchered to slake the raging thirst
For human blood, by men accurst.

O Lord, these visions chase away,
Bid Thou Thy tender love allay
The storm approaching, Mighty God,
Wilt Thou in mercy stretch Thy rod
O'er this tempestuous hemisphere;
Let Thou the sun of peace appear
In glory from this mirky sky,
Proclaiming death to enmity.

O let Thy voice, this nation hear,
And may its rulers live in fear
Of Thy just wrath, and may we see
Religion in its purity
Throughout this favored land prevail;
Let not the Savior's teachings, fail
The purpose they to men were sent,
That men of wickedness repent.

Jehovah, let not patience cease
To be a virtue. Let men's knees
In prayer before Thy throne be bent;
Let man, Thee worship 'neath his tent
Or in the forest's cooling shade
And none shall dare make him afraid.
Let wicked men no longer rule
That they may tarnish Thy footstool.

In nature, all things stay in bound;
The planets in their place are found;
The angry waves break on the shore;
The mountains check the deafening roar
Of raging storm; the gentle spring
Disarms grim winter of its sting;
Must not beyond a certain height
Ascend the eagle in its flight.

Vile man alone exceeds his bound,
Not where Thou placed him is he found,
For covetous has grown his heart
And conquest has become an art;
His brother's birthright doth he take,
Thy ten commandments doth he break,
Against Thy law doth he rebel,
And, knowingly sinks down to Hell.

Thou Righteous Lord, Thy spirit send
America,     Do Thou defend
The helpless, yea, the poor and weak,
The destitute, the just, the meek,
From persecution's cruel lash;
The unjust Judge do Thou abash,
Confound, debase, expose, ungown,
And from his honored seat bring down.

O God of mercy, wilt Thou stay
The sword of vengeance; drive away
The fiery clouds of deadly wrath,
Let strangled conscience block the path
Of creatures on destruction bent,
Let love's entreaties eloquent
The rising tide of hate becalm
And men, of murder's thoughts disarm.

Avenging God, bid Thou be still
The winds of lawlessness which kill
The nation's conscience; let the light
Of Truth's bright garments chase the night
Of false pretensions far away;
Let visions of a brighter day,
In rainbow hue illume the sky
To warn men of thy watchful eye.

Father, Thou hast all nations made
Of kindred blood, and Thou hast laid
The base for earth's foundation stone.
When Thou commandest there is none
Who dare oppose thy sovereign will,
Thou canst create and Thou canst kill,
The worlds are holden in Thy hand,
By thy decree, the heavens stand.

My God, Thy loving spirit give
To sinful man, that he may live
After the fashion of Thy son,
That when the monster death, doth come
For him, with summons in his hand,
To join that silent caravan
For unknown regions swiftly bound,
That he with thy mark may be found.

And now my Maker, to Thy trust
Do I consign the living dust.
A right to urge Thee do I claim
Through Thy dear son, the Savior's name,
That I these weak petitions make,
Which Thou wilt grant for his dear sake
And Thy name's praise shall never end,
Both now and ever more, Amen.

Amen! all Negro hearts, reply,
Amen, is echoed from the sky,
Amen, all upright men repeat,
Amen, cries Virtue, from her seat,
Amen, says Justice, bruised and sad,
Amen, joins Mercy, looking glad,
Amen, Religion shouts in glee
To Him who died on Calvary.

The Mob Spirit.

And still the drowsy nation sleeps,
While men and women slain in heaps
Appease the passions of the mob,
Who, deaf to pity, groan, or sob,
The soldiers' muskets brush aside
And minions of the law deride,
And men and women, innocent
Of any crime, to death are sent.

The humble black in lowly hut
Asleep with doors and windows shut,
Is stifled by the fumes of smoke
And as he wakes receives the stroke
Of death, though nothing has he done
Deserving it, bait that some one
Said to be black, commits a deed,
And then escapes, must this man bleed.

Another, guilty said to be,
Is bound securely to a tree;
And though he swears he's innocent,
His murderers, with hearts of flint,
Heap round his body wood and thatch
While standing with a lighted match
Is seen a woman's garb and form,
With woman's instinct glimmering gone.

Within that God-forsaken throng
Are seen the aged and the strong,
The beardless youth, the tender child,
The brazen maid, with shouts as wild
And heart as black as hardened men,
With patches of the victim's skin
As souvenirs, in high glee borne
Her quiet bedroom to adorn.

No tears of pity Wet the cheek
When there is heard the piercing shriek
Wrung from the victim, as the fire
Upon his person creepeth higher;
But louder grows the frenzied shout
Of those hyenas round about;
And blacker grows their callous hearts:
As o'er that wretch the fire darts.

Ye who of heathen tortures rant,
Stop criticising, drop your cant;
Behold the Christian's; model plan
Of torturing his fellowman!
See what they hold before the gaze
Of other nations; hear him praise
The equal justice of his laws
Midst thunders of the mob's applause!

Ye Gods! What savage orgories
Are equal to such scenes as these?
*The preacher clad in sacred gown
Incites the mob to batter down
The prison doors, and leader stood
Of those who thirsted for the blood
Of one committed to the law
Though blacker wretch none ever saw.

No living man should raise a breath
Of protest at a villain's death,
Whose wanton violence would dare
Attempt to outrage virtue fair.
A beast incased in human form,
A serpent vile, a filthy worm,
A thing too foul on earth to dwell
Whose domicile should be in hell!!

But who shall take that life away?
What tribune has a right to say
How he should die? By whose decree
Must he in horror roasted be?
Whence came the power of the court
Which for his death decides to vote?
Will some one state the place and time
'Twas proved that crime was cured by crime?


The howling wretch burnt at the stake,
With awe, the stoutest heart would shaKe,
The villain swung from limb of tree,
Presents a ghastly sight to see;
The creature foully shot to death
Should make good people gasp for breath;
The victims of the white-caps' ire
Should men with fierce resentment fire!

But sad as do these scenes appear
A sadder picture draw we here;
The people have religion spurned,
And on the goddess Justice turned
In ridicule;
Her scales they break,
And her avenging sword they take
And strike her, bleeding, to the ground
While Vice and Ruin dance around!

The burning victim spake no word,
But that heart-rending shriek you heard
Was but the wail of outraged law;
That dangling body which you saw
You thought was lynched on yonder's tree,
Was but the tattered drapery
Which did the sacred law adorn
Before 'twas crucified in scorn.

The blood of men and women, shot
Unlawfully by mobs, is not, 
(As horrifying as it seems),
One half so shocking as the streams
Of anguished blood from Justice's heart,
Which mobs and lynchers cause to start
Each time attempt they to correct
What they may term the law's defect.

A fiend the law doth violate,
A set of cutthroats delegate
Themselves the court of last resort
To which the culprit must report.
One criminal had we before
But now we have a hundred more;
The first knew he a wrong had done,
The last, so hardened, they see none.

From lynching for a nameless crime,
These bands began to lynch in time
For murder, arson, knavery,
Back-talk, assault and battery,
Horse stealing, vagrancy and debt,
A stolen calf, to win a bet,
For careless handling of a gun,
And finally, they lynch for fun.

The law an arrant coward stands;
Thrice stabbed, it raiseth not its hands,
But like a spaniel flogged, it whines,
And, with its bleeding arms, entwines
Its persecutors, It fails to act
To keep its self-respect in tact,
While in contempt the lawless hoot,
And men who cross them, hang, and shoot.

Russian Horrors.

Compare the Russian monarchy
With this great land considered free.
Their government is absolute;
The Czar, unchecked, can execute
And promulgate the country's laws;
None can enact a single clause
Contrary to his sovereign will,
Those who offend, his word can kill.

His subjects must his will obey,
Their eyes have seen no brighter day,
His soldiers emphasize his will,
Who dare oppose, their weapons kill,
Let him be Cossack, Pole, or Jew,
The unsubdued is made to rue
The hour that he for freedom speaks,
Or for an education seeks.

In Russia, torture they the Jew,
While here, have they the Negro, who
Must suffer daily on the rack
Of persecution, for the lack
Of rulers worth a blade of straw,
But not for lack of statute law.
Its folds are ample to protect
The weakest man from disrespect.

In Russia, helpless Jews must die
When things of state are all awry,
Their anti-Christian sentiment
Is held as cause for punishment.
The Negroes here are hunted down
In every hamlet, section, town,
And city, when a crime is laid
To one of them from honor strayed.

The Russian laws are not abused
When are these helpless Jews ill-used,
Because all law is in the Czar,
In peace as well as time of war;
But this is a democracy,—
(Or land of rank hypocrisy),
Where every man a ruler stands
With scales of justice in his hands.

Russia, no model government
Declares herself, in speech and print,
But boasts of her autocracy,
Where there's no banner of the free.
But here, of freedom! do men prate
With law dethroned in every state.
A model government we claim
While burning flesh cries out in shame!

Self-government the Russians say
Their people cannot have today,
For men are brutal in effect,
And brute force must their passions checks
So just our laws, do we reply,
That not a nation 'neath the sky
Can measure to the standard set
By those who shaped the laws we get.

O nation blind, why others see
Reeking with crime, while black you be
With every crime beneath the sun?
Why others chide for what is done
To subjects 'neath their flag, while you
Are practicing the same thing too?
It seems but rank: profanity
That fought thou for humanity.

Shouldn't some enlightened nation be
Enamoured of humanity
*As was America, when Spain
On Cuban soil had thousands slain?
Should not the smell of roasted men
Give voice above the constant din
Of our commercial men abroad,
Till men in mercy take the sword?

Humanity is not confined
To any nation, race or kind
Of men; its garb the same appears
To soldiers brave and buccaneers.
Its advocates today are found
Where'er enlightened men abound;
It pleadeth at this nation's door
As loud as on a foreign shore.

The painted redskin on the plain,
Its help, should not entreat in vain;
The poor, benighted Esquimo
Should hail it in his hut of snow;
The islanders of every sea
The objects of its care should be;
The Ethiopian's sooty skin
Its sympathetic ear should win.

Legislated Against.

Humanity should not stand by
While men in shameful torture die
Without a protest or a blow
Struck by its arm, to end the woe
The makers of the law should be
The first to live by its decree,
Nations should practice what they preach.
And by example should they teach.

The law, the proud Caucasians make,
And, daily, every statute break;
They murder, swindle, forge and fob,
They scheme to get another's job,
They press the foot upon the weak,
They bring to shame the maiden's cheek,
They covet to insanity,
And practice vile profanity.

But if the blacks the law should break,
These men, the sword of vengeance take
While by the law are white men fried
For arson, rape, or homicide;
But mobs, that handle shamefully
Their country's law, in peace, go free;
They, arms, and treason's, banners fly,
And the minions of the law defy.

The Negroes, framing not a law,
Are handled for the slightest flaw
In what a written page contains,
And by law-makers, thrown in chains,
And for the chains that they have worn
Whites look upon their race in scorn.
No one could feel as treated right
When forced into so sad a plight.

Should Negroes help the laws to make,
Then so much better could they take
Its punishment; so they insist,
(Just like the English colonists),
That they must represented be,
In legislative halls, to see
The justice of the law's demands
Or they grow restive in its hands.

Should humble blacks, despised and poor,
About their country's laws know more
Than those who made them? Is it right
That they be shut out from its light
In halls of state, and stand forth then
As lawful as their countrymen?
Were criminals the colonists,
Who dared, Great Britain to resist?

Can they respect the "Grandfather's Clause?"
Can they endure those "Jim Crow" laws?
Must they submit to blatant fools
Who strive to kill their higher schools?
Can they, as loyal citizens
Remain away from voting pens?
Must they submit freedom of speech,
Or hesitate the Christ to preach?

No! Less than men they'd prove to be
If they resented not the plea,
That men debased and ignorant
Should find themselves inheritant
Of suffrage rights, on the lone score;
Their grandfathers, a man's rights bore,
Not that they're competent to know
What issues with the ballots go.

Those men, three hundred years ahead,
Ashamed should be, to have it said,
On their grandfather's: rights of yore,
They must gain access to the door
Of suffrage. They should be the last
To be allowed the right to cast
The ballot, if it cannot be
Prepared by them intelligently.

But with all books kept from the blacks,
And bondsmen's burdens on their backs,
Their grandfathers, unwilling slaves,
Their thirst for lore kept down with staves,
The whites, who boast superior blood,
Have long before the country stood
Praying grandfathers in their graves
To save them from their former slaves.

Let those best posted, tell us why
They on grandfathers, should rely?
The Negroes ask no favor more
Than other men, but they are sore
When they are charged with heedlessness
Of law, when they are getting less
Than the worst scoundrel of the race
That makes the laws that them abase.

Just let the self-same rule apply
To blacks and whites for registry;
The ignorant, keep from the polls,
Or else admit all honest souls,
Regardless of the hue of face,
Or antecedence of the race;
Let men of wealth and learning vast
Ne'er be debarred a vote to cast.

Jim Crow Laws.

The "Jim Crow" laws do blacks oppose,
Because investigation shows
There was. no need to separate
The races, in a single state
On common carriers, for each race
Knew well enough what was its "place";
Only the best of blacks would care
To pay the price of first class fare.

The low and vicious element
Were always perfectly content
To travel in the second class
Coaches, where they could take a glass
Of rum, or smoke a filthy pipe,
And where they'd mingle with their type
Of men, they had no minds to be
Encased in robes of decency.

Negroes refined, must smell the smoke
Of drinking men, and hear the joke
Of vulgar toughs who beastly stare
Into the face of ladies fair,
Because by law, all Negroes are
Compelled to ride within one car
Without accommodations good
To keep them in a cheerful mood.

This know: 'tis, but the set intent
To crush their pride that they resent
These "Jim Crow" laws, 'Tis not to be
Allowed in white society
That they are heard to make complaint,
But 'tis because it tends to paint
The Negro as. a creature vile
That decent people will defile.

Black hands prepare the food they eat,
They mix together on the street,
They toil together on the farm,
Their babes are nursed in Negro arms,
They blacks, engage to drive the coach,
They wait upon them in the porch,
Blacks vote with them election days
And imitate them in all ways.

Black porters serve them in the cars,
Black waiters are the leading stars
At hotels, on the ocean's shore,
Blacks, first must meet them at the door
As butlers, or as chamber-maids,
Blacks patronize them in their trades;
When they are sick, blacks stand near by
And weep around them when they die.

To this, the whites do not object,
But seem to think it incorrect
That Negro passengers should be
But treated with the courtesy
Due decent folk in any place,
Regardless of their rank or race,
And that a crime do blacks commit
When they within a Pullman sit.

This fact, I've tried to make quite clear:
The whites, of contact, have no fear
Or disapproval of the blacks
When they are tools and jumping jacks
And servants meek, but foul they grow,
When they to wealth and honor soar,
'Tis then upon the blacks they frown
And make new laws to hold them down.

Remember that it teaches hate,
When men the races separate,
Not having shown a single cause
Why they adopt such stringent laws;
The Negro takes the law to be
An evidence of enmity,
The whites see in it a disgrace
To treat as men, the Negro race.

The smallest child on hatred feeds
And such foul food, begets the seeds
Of coming trouble on that day
The older men have passed away.
The boys who study history,
Themselves their country's rulers see
In promise of the future bright,
Whether those boys be black or white.

There could not be a greater sin
Than thus to teach a set of men
To highest places to aspire,
And then attempt to check the fire
On manhood's altars once aflame,
No greater crime, in Justice's name,
Could a democracy commit,—
Such deeds, republics, ill befit.

The world should know this is the cause
Why blacks oppose the "Jim Crow" laws.
Let it be known that they oppose
Their designation as "Jim Crows";
In this repulsive name, they see
The dagger of an enemy,
Who seeks to cast around their name
The stigma of eternal shame.

Foreign Labor.

The convict from a foreign shore
Has scarcely reached this land before
Its laws and statutes he defies
And the flag of anarchy he flies.
The magnates' property he loots,
The workmen in the mines he shoots,
With arms the nation's life he'll seek,
Before its tongue he learns to speak.

And when as unionist, he's struck,
And set with fire his landlord's truck,
The wheels of industry he stops,
In fields, and harbors, mines, and shops,
And factories, while on this land
He only waits to get command
On ships and forts to keep an eye
Unchallenged as a prowling spy.

Not one such crime do blacks commit,
But here indignantly they sit
With looks of sadness on each face,
As foreign labor takes the place.
No torch nor bomb have they applied;
Their country's flag they've not defied;
They've kept no set of men from work;
Their country's flag ne'er did they shirk.

They love the flag which set them free,
They love the name of liberty,
They love this form of government,
They love the nation's president,
They love the fundamental law,
But bitterly do they abhor
The law's interpretations vile,
That now some statute-books defile.
Their institutions are their own;
This is the only land they've known,

No "Fatherland" nor kindred shore
Have they to lure them any more
Their sworn allegiance to divide
Between this country where abide
They now, and that from whence they came.
No other race can say the same.

Yet men have tried to their disgrace,
To treat them as an alien race,
Despite the fact that they alone
Columbians are in blood and bone.
No Irish, Scotch, nor Russian Pole,
No foreign born do their ranks hold.
From emigration, get they none,
So they increase by births alone.

Riddance of Criminals.

When earth and sky from naught had sprung,
And nature's children yet were young,
Man learned to trace the monster crime
By its disgusting filth and slime.
When Cain, the blood of Abel shed
And from the haunts of mankind fled,
Yea, crimie first introduced by Cain,
Till Gabriel blows, will here remain.

'Tis not the legacy of race;
'Tis not confined to any place
'Tis not a stranger to the strong;
The old and young have practiced wrong;
'Tis found to be a foul disease
Inoculated by degrees;
Hereditary has it grown,
From father handed down to son.

A knave or fool must be the man
Who tells a race it never can
Become respected as a class
Until it rids its entire mass
Of men who practice petty crimes.
'Twere best to wait to hear the chimes
Of golden bells in paradise,
Descending from the starry skies.

Good people should their means unite
That they make a stubborn fight
To check the tendency to crime;
They can't afford to take the time
That it would take to find a race
Has been a stranger to disgrace;
They can't afford to be content
With strictly racial betterment.

Helpless would be the Negro's lot
If fruits of justice he'll have not
Until of criminals he's rid;
No race or nation 'neath the lid
Of earth's vast cauldron has been known
To be of evil-doers shorn,
Nor do they ever dream to be
Of their unwelcome presence free.

Chun Chus are hated Chinese fiends,
Ladrones disgrace the Philippines,
The Russians fear the terrorists,
The Frenchmen dread the terrorists,
Italians watch the Mafia bands
England in fear of strikers stands;
This land can boast so many crimes
That I can't place them in these rhymes.

Those who the daily papers read
Will find they'll have but little need
Their fertile brains to exercise
To find some one to criticize
Because of shocking scandals done
Of every kind beneath the sun,
For here in this enlightened land
Crimes stalk abroad in every hand.

Not from among the Negro ranks
Find we the men who rob the banks
Of thousands worth' of stocks and bonds
And, loaded with their loot, absconds;
Nor have they learned to counterfeit,
Nor with the robbers made a hit;
The whites, as criminal in class
Their compeers black do far surpass.

No one should say a race should wait
For Justice, 'till it regulates
Its bad men to oblivion,
A thing no other race has done.
The man who utters such remarks
But fans alive the smoulderings sparks
Of criticism of the race,
Whom all are seeking to efface.

Statesmen Digressed.

Few are the men who dare to speak
For justice for the poor and weak,
But everywhere is heard the horn
Of those who hold them up to scorn,
Few are the statesmen now we see
Who cry aloud for liberty.
Few Patrick Henrys spend their breath
While shouting "Liberty or death!"

Few Hancocks, Washingtons, and Greens
Appear in any modern scenes
Few Daniel Websters, Henry Clays,
Lees, Calhouns, Sumners, John C. Hays,
Few Horace Greeleys, Thomas Reeds,
Few Breckenridges, Jackson, Meades,
Few William Garrisons appear
For right, insults and shame to bear.

Few Alex Stephens, George F. Hoars
Adorn our legislative floors;
Few Lincolns, Douglasses, and Tombs,
The statesman's firmament illume;
Few are the men who dare oppose
The public sentiment of those
Who have the power the votes to cast
Which can their future greatness blast.

Few have there been since Hoar, to be
The champions of the oppressed free;
Few choose as cause for party fights
The championship of human rights.
Such statesmanship is of the past;
Now, leading men will stand aghast,
With terror written on their brows
If asked this doctrine to espouse.

The nation, giants once could boast
In Congress halls, while now that post
Of honor is by pygmies filled;
Great millionaires, in finance skilled,
But who, in statesmanship and law,
Must be considered rank and raw,
When with past statesmen we compare
Their present worth is not at par.

The reason why I'll try to give:
Though true it is that now we live
Within the most enlightened age
That is recorded on the page
Of this old world's known history,
The key to this great mystery
Is, that a past democracy
Stands now, a huge plutocracy.

The plutocrat with ill got gains
Usurps the place of men of brains;
The rights of men, they'll freely own,
Is matter unto them unknown;
The poor they've practiced to oppress,
But wrongs they've learned not to redress;
Their hearts are hardened by their greed,
They have no thought of poor men's need.

Ambassadors fill places which
Are only given to the rich.
So sordid has the nation grown
That now its agents must be known
For wealth, and not ability,
While men of capability
In private life must make their mark,
And at the wrongs in office bark.

What we most need, is fearless men
*Like "Fire-alarm Joe" and "Patrick Ben,*
Who stand immovable and strong
To their convictions, right or wrong,
No changelings do they prove to be,
But men of fixed integrity;
No flag of compromise they fly,
But right or wrong, they do, or die.

The men now held in public light
Place self before the cause of right;
On vital questions take no side
But drift according to the tide
Of fickle public sentiment,
But loud are they and eloquent
When they are sure their words will be,
A bid for popularity.

The creators of sentiment
Are like the sparks of steel and flint,
Which lying singly side by side
Send forth no fire until applied
Has been to one a goodly blow,
When from the impact will there glow
The spark which kindles to a flame
That once in force, no man can tame.

Columbus, though rebuffed and sneered,
Still to the firm belief adhered
That in the future, 'twould be found
The earth, not flat would prove but round.
Old Galileo fought until
Proved he to men, the sun stood still,
While all the planets held in space,
Around it moved, each in its place.

Unpopular indeed was seen
The doctrine of the Nazerine
Still he hypocrisy assailed,
Until the light of truth prevailed;
And righteousness began to sweep
The earth, as angry waves, the deep
Lash into fury; and His name
Savior of men, do all proclaim

Were Garrison and Sumner cursed
Because they stood among the first
To advocate that slaves should be
Declared by law, forever free.
Luther, and Roger Williams fought
For what they felt the scriptures taught;
And Lincoln's life of duty done,
From men, undying praise has won.

The party lines in years agone
O'er doctrines great were strictly drawn;
The Constitution, men adored,
And not a statesman could afford
To say in jest or earnestness,
It had outlived its usefulness;
Sat none supremely satisfied
And saw its teachings set aside.

No Advocates.

No one doth for the Negro speak,
But that some one is heard to shriek
That such defense is "slinging dirt,"
Or "waving of the bloody shirt;"
The South attempting to insult,
For such will be the sure result
Of speeches in the blacks' defense,
Has grown race hatred so intense.

Men rack their brains to find excuse
This patient people to abuse;
Their deeds of shame go to the press,
Their deeds of honor they suppress;
Harp they upon their ignorance,
But frown on their intelligence;
They scorn them in their poverty
And hate them in prosperity.

They give their highest mead of praise
To those who served through slavery days
Unlearned, and of ambition stripped,
For life's stern duties, unequipped,
Who on themselves do not depend
And who will not themselves defend;
But with their lot are satisfied
It matters not HOW cast aside.

But those who strive to reach renown
By honest means are hounded down;
'Tis said they "started at the top,"
Therefore 'tis best that they should stop
And from the bottom make a start,
Where they would play no leading part
In proving that the race can rise
As high as any 'neath the skies.

No other people, kith or kin,
Were ever told where to begin,
If bottom, middle or the top,
Or when and where they ought to stop,
But they are kindly let alone
To choose a basis of their own,
And from that base begin to climb
By leaps and bounds, to heights sublime.

Where would such stupid dolts as these
Have kept the gallant Japanese?
Just sixty years since they began
And now among the first they stand
In science, learning, war and art;
Not at the bottom did they start,
Nor by slow process did they creep,
But landed at a single leap.

'Tis true the ruling dynasty
Is traced through many a century;
'Tis true did they of learning boast
Ere Perry's ships had reached their coast;
'Tis true brave soldiers had they been
Before they met with Western men;
But the whites declared that they were blind,
And near a thousand years behind.

Their rapid rise but goes to show
That progress is not for the slow.
Let gifted Negroes of today
Begin to build where'er they may;
Let them act like the Japanese,
And start in life just where they please.
Most of their hardships are the fault
Of their own race, who halloa—halt!!

Let Them Alone.

Let the poor Negroes have some peace,
And let their own traducers cease
To charge them with incompetence
And lack of push and common sense;
Let men not strive to hold them back,
But help them overcome the pack
Of human wolves, who howl and bark
Each time a Negro makes his mark.

Let them but have an equal chance
With other men to make advance
Along the highway to success;
Let none his energies suppress;
Tear down that prejudicial wall,
Then see if he will rise or fall;
Look not upon him as a foe
Who should receive a telling blow.

Open to him "The door of hope,"
And then let's see if he can cope
In fierce combat with other men
Of longer start and fairer skin;
Remove the blighting curse of caste,
And recollection of his past,
From intercourse in civil life,
And then confront him in the strife.

Remove the shackles from his feet
And bid him in life's race compete,
With every people 'neath the skies,
And if he then should fail to rise
His warmest friends must then admit
That he has shown himself unfit
On honor's scroll to gain a place,
Mongst men now styled the favored race.

We do not mean by let alone
That of restrictions he'll have none;
Not let alone so much that he
Will license take for liberty;
Not let alone to breed disease,
Nor to disturb his neighbor's peace.

Let him have peace while he makes bold
To lay on progress' plow, firm hold,
And turn the soil, and sow the seeds
Of thriftiness and worthy deeds,
His problem taking from the shelf
Of politics, while he himself
By honest means and firm resolve.
Will finally that problem solve.

The problem greatest in his mind
Is to discern why have combined
Against his uplift all the world,
And stones of hindrance are hurled
Upon his poor defenseless head.
Why not for stones, pelt him with bread
Of trust and milk of kindness give,
So that he may the better live?

Why not feed charity for wrath?
Remove oppression from his path;
From civil rights remove the ban,
And treat him simply as a man.
No special favors does he ask;
He can and will perform his task,
However hard, wherever placed,
If he in justice is incased.

Black Not a Disgrace.

Why place him daily on the rack?
Is it because God made him black,
Or just because he once has been 
In bondage held by other men?
Is it because the ruling class
Has fear their race he might surpass
Or is it on account of hate
That they cannot him tolerate?

Is it because he climbed too fast
That they upon him malice cast?
Is it because he's patient stood
While men upon him did intrude,
And when assaulted, showed a lack
Of inclination to strike back?
Is it for lack of unity
Men chase him with impunity?

No man should think it a disgrace
Because he has a dusky face
If he can prove to all the earth
That it has come from honest birth.
Let every colored youth take pride
In the cut and color of his hide;
His pearl-like teeth, and bright eyes rare
Let him admire his curly hair,

No living thing that God has made
Is found possessing one fixed shade
Of color, be it man or beast,
Whether the greatest or the least
Of things created do we speak,
Where'er in nature we may seek,
Of many colors will we find
The animals of kindred kind.

The horse, the cow, the sheep, the dog,
The goat, the ape, the bear, the hog,
The prowling beast within his lair
The fowl that navigates the air,
The creeping things upon the earth,
The cricket chirping on the earth,
The wondrous monsters of the sea,
Do not in color all agree.

The horse, the dog, the cow, the bear,
Are never judged by skin or hair,
Nor are the fowls by feathers known,
But by the quality they've shown.
The horse for speed and gentleness;
The dog for his intelligence;
The singing birds for pleasing airs;
For length of fur, choose we the bears.

The cow is judged by cream and milk,
The hog for compactness of build,
The fowl for flavor and for eggs ,
The grey-hound for his lengthy legs,
Is judged the whale by oil and bone,
The ostrich for his plumes alone,
Is due the friendliness for cats
To their affinity for rats.

'Tis not the texture of the hair,
Nor if the skin be dark or fair,
Tis not the color of the eyes,
Nor is it strictly for the size
That animals are widely known,
But by their qualities alone.
For usefulness, their breeds became
Admitted to the scroll of fame.

The sequel is: let men be known
For what of merit they have done
In carving out the destiny
Of selves and their posterity;
And that the villian and the drone
According to their deeds be known,
And not allowed a yeoman's place
Because of color of the face.

Let upright conduct blaze the way
To recognition. Let none say
That he no effort need put forth
To indicate his present worth
In the equation of life's plan,
And still be the peer of any man;
Let man's most lofty standard be
His merit and integrity.

Let none the worthy thrust aside;
Let none the scoundrel's actions hide;
Let worthy men together herd,
And let them speak a friendly word
For those attempting to ascend
To higher ground. Assistance lend
To those encompassed by distress
Or fighting wrong with earnestness.

Judge not a man by dress or skin,
But judge him by the things within;
Not by his father's pedigree,
But by the evidence we see
Of his ability and thrifty
And his desire to help to lift
The burden from his brother's back,
And not upon him burdens pack.

The Future.

Neither Emigration Nor Segregation.

Equal to those of any race
Which comes to dwell upon the face
Of this known Western hemisphere,
As sacred do his rights appear.
Let this to all the world be known:
This is the land he calls his own,
By birth, by sacrifice and toil,
And blood that drenched the thirsty soil.

Deceived are they who speculate
That they'll be forced to emigrate
To distant lands beyond the seas;
Remove such fickle thoughts as these,
And in their stead, bear it in mind,
That nations of the earth combined,
Them, cannot force to emigrate
Unless they them exterminate.

Here were they brought against their will,
Here were their hands refined to skill,
Here learned they of the living God,
Here rests their dead beneath the sod,
Here snatched they wealth from mother earth,
Here dwelt in sorrow and in mirth.

Here learned the sweets of liberty,
And here will stay until they die.
But thirteen years do separate
The whites and Negroes' landing date
Upon this cherished continent,
And it would seem impertinent
That one should claim lay to the place
And aliens call the other race
Which by their sides toiled night and day
The nation's corner-stone to lay.

In other lines, methinks I've shown
How, with the country's growth, he's grown,
How he in every war has been,
How he in every trade is seen,
How he the soil has come to own,
How he to heights of fame has flown,
How he has conquered ignorance,
How that he only asks a chance.

Suppose that he was forced to go,
Will some one well informed please show
The land, the place, the spot, the state,
To which could he now emigrate,
And build a nation of his own
Where to molest him there was none,
And where he'd have a chance to show
What he is well prepared to do?

His motherland—old Africa,
Is no more his than Canada.
'Tis swallowed by the white man's greed
To found an empire for his seed;
Apportioned are its fertile plains,
Its mountain slopes and vast domains
Amongst the European courts
By means of weapons of all sorts.

This government and tongue, blacks know,
And when to reap and when to sow;
How best a conflict to avoid,
How best their means may be employed,
What from the nation to expect,
And what is needed to inject,
Into the drowsy nation's pulse
So as to yield the best results.

We've shown they will not emigrate,
Nor will they ever segregate
Within the confines of a state
For reasons I enumerate:
Again, my words must I repeat,
No place is there to rest his feet
Without some form of government
Under the white man's management.

Never an acre or a field
Unto the black man will he yield;
Never surrender what he owns
Except for profit or as loans;
Never to black men lend a hand
To prove that equals they can stand;
Never their statesmen grow so bold
That they will such a doctrine hold.

Nor will the black man sacrifice
At the behest of enemies
His life's accumulation dear,
Because of prejudice or fear,
Renounce allegiance to his own
And hie to lands to him unknown;
The country of the white man too—
And there begin his life anew.

Happy would be the Negro race
If on this globe, there was a place
Where, unmolested might they be,
To work out their own destiny.
But, like the Jews, whose people roam,
With not a place to call their home,
Must they receive the world's applause,
And here, help shape the country's laws.

Oppression's rod, the Pilgrims sent
To settle in this continent;
They braved the dangers of the sea
To gain religious liberty;
Preferred they death from savage bands
To unjust blows from tyrant's hands;
They left for lands to them unknown
To found a country of their own.

And that new land to which they went
Was to their former government
An offspring, called a colony,
Which would pursue such policy
As might the motherland suggest
That the conditions fitted best
Another tract of land to bring
Under the banner of their king.

Oppression's ever grinding heel,
Severely do the Negroes feel.
Without the nation's sympathy,
Or country unto which to flee;
No means of transit do they own,
Nor will their white friends lend them one;
Tis therefore true that here must they
For generations have to stay.

To blacks who wish to go away
To other lands take heed, I pray,
Unto the warning given here:
No nation's borders, venture near,
Till you have reason to believe
That justice will your sons receive,
And that their service to the state,
The nation will appreciate.

A country need they like old Rome,
Where all .who entered, could become
Good Romans in the fullest sense
Who bared their breasts in its defense;
She did not dwell upon their past,
Or hesitate because of caste,
But, for their gallantry in war
Stood equals all before the law.

Let blacks who have a settled will
To emigrate, go to Brazil—
The only land we call to mind
Which has no caste or color line;
A country famed for vast extent,
But sparce indeed in settlement;
A country where each man is known
For good or ill that he has done.

Her fertile soil would yield produce
For more than half the whole world's use;
Her rulers stand with open hands
To welcome thrifty emigrants;
Her climate, very much the same
As Africa's, from whence you came;
Her people brave, her statutes just,
Her promises the people trust.

No other clime, no other place
Presents such promise to the race.
Her citizens, not white, nor red,
Nor black, nor brown, live not in dread
That they'll be known by act or law,
Save as Brazilians, similar
In treatment, point of law, and chance
Along life's highway to advance.

Contend For Rights.

Here will the Negro ever stay,
But not so patient as today
Will appear a decade hence,
For there will rise in his defence
A Patrick Henry, who will seek
To teach them they are not so weak
As men would have them to suppose
Who do their manhood rights oppose.

He'll tell them those who yield to wrong
Will weaker grow instead of strong;
He'll ask if blacks must wait With pains
Till they are loaded down with chains;
He'll bid them take experience's lamp
To guide them from the dismal swamp
Of persecution, and his breath
Will shout for liberty or death!

Nor will his pleadings be in vain,
For love of freedom will again
From sea to sea, this nation shake,
Till men the mighty pen will take
Their cause to plead in daily press
Till men have reason to confess
As being true those words adored:
"The pen is mightier than the sword."

A Frederick Douglass will there be
Pleading the love of liberty;
A William Garrison will rise
To rail against men's tyrannies;
A Sumner on the Senate floor,
The lack of justice will deplore;
A G-reely stand a champion for
The constitution and the law.

Men through the press will seek to show
Whether are true those words or no,
That in the strife 'twixt sword and pen
The latter would the battle win;
And by the pen 'twill be their bent
To work on public sentiment
Till those who have the wrong condoned
From the place of power will be dethroned.

Leaders and Martyrs.

But should the pen and speeches fail
For manhood rights aught to prevail,
Then in the cause of right and truth
Must needs there to arise forsooth,
A Cranmer or a Polycarp
To furnish food for minstrel's harp;
A Wycliffe, Knox, or Latimer
Who'll brave the fire and rapier.

Must look Nat Turner's spirit down
With pride, upon a black John Brown;
A Mirabeau or a Monet,
Whose daring will in motion set
The never failing wheels of fate,
Which in the end will culminate
In crushing out the tyrant's power
As do the mills grind wheat to flour.

There must be martyrs to the cause
Of revolution in our laws;
Some daring colored William Tell
Who for his race his life will sell;
Some sainted Arnold Winkelreid,
A name to thrill the dullest Swede;
A Martin Luther or a Hale
Whom threats of death will never quail.

Must have the race a Rhoderick Dhru,
Who never fear nor falter knew;
'Tis theirs to rear a Robert Bruce
Whose leadership the yoke must loose
Of cowardice and! impotence
So that they'll strike in their defense.

Armed Resistance.

And should these means accomplish naught,
Then must be tried the last resort.
To every man beneath the sky
Hath nature willed that he must die;
Nor can he choose the time nor place
In which to end his earthly race.
Though cowards cringe and beg for breath,
No mercy shows the reaper—Death.

Since must men die by nature's laws,
Then why not in a righteous cause
Yield up the ghost? Why not a name
Write with their blood in the halls of fame?
Why "scourged unto their dungeons go
Like galley slaves?" Why not bestow
A hero's lustre on their seed
In meeting death in gallant deeds?

What nobler death can heroes die
Than in the cause of liberty?
WThat could more clearly prove a wrong
Than that the weak attack the strong?
For dying at Thermopylae
Leonidas will sainted be.
The Greeks in war are lauded most
For beating Artaxerxes' hosts.

Was dazed the world by Boer pluck
When they at British prestige struck;
So must the Negro rise to fame
By being tried in battle fame.
True has it been e'er since the flood
Reforms come not except by blood.
The men oppressed must learn to know
"Who would be free must strike the blow."

When man in disobedience trod
Beneath his feet the will of God,
And culprit, at His bar he stood,
'Twas only by the precious blood
Shed on the cross of Calvary
Could he escape the misery
Of death eternal, and the smell
Of brimstone fumes—the smoke of hell.

Through blood, the earth reforms has known;
Through blood have leading empires grown;
Through blood the world is Christianized;
Through blood are heathens civilized,
And blood the means will ever be,
By which men gain their liberty.
Not blood of some one in their stead
But blood which they themselves have shed.

The Leader.

Throughout creation do we find,
Of classes, are there but two kinds
Of beast or bird, of fish or man
As the fulfillment of the plan
Of nature's law, which has decreed
That some must follow, others lead.
The followers are never gone;
The leaders are not made, but born.

The sceptre of the honored queen,
In every hive of bees is seen;
The ant, no food to heap will bring
Without an order from the king;
The cattle roaming" o'er the hill;
Are guided by their leader's will;
The schools of fish that swarm the deep,
The mountain goat, the wolf, the sheep,

The elephant and bison herds,
The goose and all migrating birds,
The beaver and the prairie dog,
The antelope and fierce wild hog,
The proud wild horse upon the plains,
With independence in his veins,
Each, all of them their leaders know,
And where they lead, there will they go.

So in the government of man
There's no exception to the plan;
But rather more is seen the need
Of followers and men who lead;
Of cultured men the world to sway,
And men born only to obey;
Some born for buckler, sword and shield,
The sceptre, some were born to wield.

Of millions who are daily born,
But few indeed live to be known
Unto the world; few win a name
That will receive the world's acclaim;
Thousands contend in every cause
Just one or two win men's applause.
Who were the men who made their mark
When Father Noah built the ark?

When men accomplish worthy deeds,
All men revere the man who leads;
The thousands who the work have done
Will go unto their graves unknown;
Though gallant men they prove to be,
They die unsung in history;
BHit should they fail, the badge of shame
Will be attached to the leader's name.

'Tis not when we are blessed with peace
Without a single adverse breeze
To beat upon our little bark
Do we behold the men of mark.
But when oppression's cruel heel
Our hearts transform to hardened steel,
When tyrants stand with galling chains
The blood to chill within our veins,

When all around is pitchy dark
With not a life-boat nor an ark
Wherein the tempest tossed may hide,
While 'round them rolls destruction's tide,
'Tis then the leader's voice is heard
To give command, and, at his word
Confusion into order flies,

And hope's bright sun illumes the skies.
Thus 'twas that Moses Israel led
From Egypt's coast, across the Red
Sea. Thus did Joshua overthrow
The Canaanites at Jericho.
So Gideon slew without a sword,
His tens of thousands for the Lord.
So David with a sword and sling
Soon won a crown as Israel's king.

So Alexander, called the Great,
Made Macedon a mighty state;
So Hannibal was known in Rome
When to her walls with arms he's come;
So Caesar had a kingdom won
When he had crossed the Rubicon;
So William came from Normandy
And took the land of Brittainy.

So did Napoleon's skill acquire
The world to be a French empire;
So Wellington leaped into view
When he had won at Waterloo;
So Scipio became adored
When Hannibal gave him his sword;
Frederick the Great was hailed with pride
When he had Prussia unified.

So wrought Toussaint L'Ouverture
When he a nation did procure;
So Washington o'er earth was known
When he this land from England won;
A naval god will Perry be
For Battles won upon the sea;
And so must Grant a hero be
For his defeat of Robert Lee.

Know we, a crisis now is near,
And on the scene will there appear
A Negro leader, brave and true,
And firmly ground in race pride, too;
A new Toussaint L'Ouverture,
An Attacks or a Maceo,
Some one who dares to do the right
And who will shirk not from a fight.

A man who will not hesitate
A blow to strike, nor meditate
Upon results sought to be gained,
Or if the end can be attained;
A man who'll seek to do his best
By might of arms, his race to wrest
From unjust laws and misery,
Or in such cause to die nobly.

That liberator standeth near;
His star, to us will soon appear;
And black men when they hear his words,
The pep will yield, and take to swords;
The farmer will discard his hoe,
And to the front with musket go;
The preacher will his Bible close
To deal out death, unto his foes.

A traitor will he be proclaimed,
And vagabonds his followers named,
Unworthy of the name of men
When they the work of death begin,
But once the coals of wrath are stirred
These wronged men will not be deterred
For butchery and thirst for blood
By rantings of the multitude.

But onward will their columns go,
And fiercer will the conflict grow,
'Till death in every hamlet stalks
And pestilence and suffering walk
Throughout the land in ghoulish glee,
And blacks and whites alike will flee
The wrath of the avenger's sword,
Which, with the dead, the land has strewed.

No quarter will these fighters show,
Nor sex, nor age, nor friendship know,
But with the musket, sword and flame
Will they the fiercest savage shame
By deeds of cruelty so black
That their commission will but smack
Of fiendish spirits; born to dwell
Within the lowest depths of hell.

And through a livid stream of hell
Produced by shot and bursting shell,
And plunged within a crimson flood
Which forms a lake of human blood
Undaunted will their columns go;
Nor will they fear nor falter know
Till those who rule will recognize
Their claim for legal rights is wise.


Old Africa, the Lord must know;
Good men, the gospel seeds must sow,
And if the heathen they convince
First must they win their confidence;
Must in their lifework bear a part,
Must practice no deceptive art,
For Christ his hearers never taught
That faith could be with muskets bought.

The Christian blacks the word must take,
Wherewith the bread of life to break
Unto these long benighted men,
Their racial friends, their kith and kin;
They must the deadly climate brave
Those precious souls from death to save;
The knowledge gained in other lands
Must civilize those heathen bands.

Black Kingdoms of the Future.

Kingdoms and empires will they form
In Afric's fertile bosom warm;
Liberia will important grow;
An empire great will be Congo;
Ashantee's greatness will return;
The Zulus, great distinction earn;
Proud Abyssinia's lurid skies
To leading kingdom will arise.

Not subjects nor protectorates,
But honored independent states
With -polished kings and emperors,
And with a code of upright laws;
With warships riding on the seas,
And armies large to keep the peace;
With schools and splendid halls of art,
And in life's drama taking part.

The Aryan peoples now so great
And strong, will soon deteriorate
In art, in science and in law,
And in the finer points of war;
Will in their morals retrograde,
Their splendid governments will fade
Or crumble by the heavy hands
Of darker race invading bands.

This fact, the careful student greets;
That history itself repeats;
That what was done in days agone,
May we prepare for later on;
That nothing 'neath the sun is new,
Though lost art oft is, brought to view,
And, as past nations found decay,
So must the present pass away.

Malay or Mongol, Jap or Turk,
Or Negro, will begin the work
Of dissolution, which will grow
Till Aryan prestige, none will know;
Till present ruling empires vast
Become but relics of the past;
And where, upon the mighty seas
Strange pennons flutter in the breeze.

This sad catastrophe will come
From discontent and war at home,
And disregard for law and right,
Ere comes the damning, withering blight
Of foreign conquest, when must fall
These cherished institutions all;
And when must rise to take their place
The statutes of another race.

Proud India, when the British wane,
Her independence will regain
And prosper as in days of yore,
A province to be nevermore.
Her thrones and temples as of old,
Bedecked will stand, with purest gold;
In statecraft, arms: and industry,
Sublime, her dusky sons will be.

Will Europe's rulers rue the day
The Chinese wall was swept away;
As their defenseless coasts they see
Alive with Mongol soldiery
In vengeance come, to strike the blow
To crush their country's standing foe.
The "Yellow peril" is no myth
The people's minds to conjure with.

Awakened have these people been
By contact with dishonest men,
Who sought their country to despoil,
\And drive them from their native soil
Or rule them with an iron hand
Subject to kings of foreign land;
So now these yellow hoards prepare
To beard the lion in his lair.

And Nippon, empire of the seas,
Stands proud possessor of the keys
The door of hope to open wide
Unto that Oriental tide,
Which, like the Goths and Gauls of old,
To conquer Europe will make bold;
Nor will they from their conquests cease
Till haughty Europe sues for peace.

The distant Philippines will be
An independent nation, free
From foreign rule, and none will dare
Her starry flag1 to treat unfair.
Will be her cities beautified,
Her coasts and harbors fortified,
Her merchant-ships like busy bees,
With treasures filled, will sail the seas.

Her long lost science, wealth and fame,
Dark Ethiopia will reclaim.
Important cities will she boast,
Built inland, and upon the coast;
Her rivers, rivulets and rills,
A swarm will be with busy mills;
Her soil with railroads all around,
A perfect network will be found.

Great centers of the world's best trade,
These cities will in time be made:
Adis, Abeba, Ankobar,
With Harrar, Harper and Dondar,
Old Cape G'oast Castle, Kunassi,
Boma, Banana, Matadi,
Monrovia, Akkra, Great Bassum.
Buchanan, Edna, and Atsum.

Old Zanzibar and the Soudan,
Guinea, and Bechuanaland,
From, years of slumber will awake,
And resolution's sword will take
And to the battle-field will go
The tyrant whites to overthrow. 
And Zanzibar will hold a place
As high in fame as any race.

Its walls, with frowning guns arrayed,
A fort impregnable is made
Where slowly and majestically
The Congo flows into the sea,
Its Western borders to protect
From foreign greed, which would subject
Their sons to be but crawling things,
The property of distant kings.

With wisdom born of suffering,
The Negus and the native kings
Their latent race pride will arouse
And this new doctrine will espouse
Of "Africa for Africans,"
While Kaffirs and Numidians,
Ashantee bucks, and Zulu braves;
Well armied will rise to punish knaves.

Nor will these people be content
To be on peaceful callings bent.
Ambition's omnipresent wiles
Their kings will bind, and vengeance's smiles
Besistlessly will draw them on
With mite, to strike a blow beyond
The confines of their native shores
To settle up long standing scores.

O'er Southern Europe will they crowd
Till they appear a dusky cloud
Which marks the approaching' hurricane,
Whose forward rush 'twill be in vain
By human power, for men to check,
Till they have taught them to respect
The prowess of the sons of Ham
Like those of France or Uncle Sam.

As honored will their rulers be
As those of Spain or Germany.
Their subjects, should they choose to roam,
In other countries far from home,
Who now by all men are despised,
Will then by men be lionized;
Men's present; prejudice will flee
Before their gallant soldiery.

Their kingdoms, for defense allied;
Their subjects firmly unified;
Their soil, the richest of the earth,
With mines beneath of untold worth;
Their boundless forests, stately, grand,
The greatest known in any land
Whose timbers are with wealth replete
To bring the world unto their feet.

The pyramids and stolid sphinx,
In architecture form the links
Between their skill in ages gone
And what they'll bring forth later on
When giant structures will they rear,
To which "sky-scrapers" will appear
As ant-hills, to the mountain steep
Or to elephants, the barnyard sheep.

Will look the world to them, for bread
As Egypt once all nations fed;
For barley, rice and Indian maize,
Will these enlightened Negroes raise
Upon their fertile virgin soil
Without the worry, care and toil
Of other lands, with folks so filled
That they have left no land to till.


Thou father Time, whose wrinkled face
Can men through all the ages trace,
Whose fleecy locks and weary feet
In every stage of life we meet;
Whose voice breaks through the shades of gloom
To point us to our future tomb,
Who holds the seal of destiny
Of earth's created progeny.

Thou, who with nature's God began
Ages before had erring man
Culled from the dust, received his breath,
Thou, who will live when ghastly Death
His reaper's blade has cast aside,
And he who kills himself has died,
Thou who didst nature's course begin
And who must cause its final end.

Thou whom the living God must slay
When earth and sky have passed away—
Do thou but let the seasons roll
By rapidly, till mien behold
What God had hidden in His plan,
When He at first created man
Of kindred blood, upright and free,
Who later dwelt in enmity.

Mounted within thy chariot old,
Thy rig of ages manifold,
With lnos§y coat, and creaking wheels
From whence anon are heard the peels
Of thy long, tarnished, brazen gong,
Whose sounds, remind the passing throng
That by thy clock, the hour has come
When must they sleep within the tomb.

Do thou this evil era chase,
Annihilate the giant space,
Yea, lash thy ancient gory steed,
Ages to fly with lightning spfeed,
That earth may early realize
God's justice and his purposes
In earth dividing by the seas,
For marks of racial boundaries.

Roll on, till realized have been
The prophecies of holy men,
That Ethiop, the land of Nod,
Her hands shall stretch forth unto God;
And when the islands of the sea
With harps and voice atune will be
With praises loud, on hill and plain,
Of Christ, the lamb for sinners, slain!

Roll by the days of strife and blood;
Roll on till man in rectitude
Again is clothed as at the first
In Eden fair he stood, 'til cursed
For disobeying- God, he fell
From heir of grace to child of hell,
From whence was he redeemed alone
By the blood of Christ, the holy one.

Roll on, 'til here on earth has come
The long-looked-for millennium,
When sweetly sleeping side by side,
Will lion and the lamb abide;
'Till soldiers' swords brought from their nooks.
Fashioned have been to reapers' hooks;
'Till beasts and prey, together feed,
And them a little child shall lead.

Roll on, till throughout earth is hushed
The murmurings of spirits crushed
By other spirits, stronger, vile,
That feed on wickedness and guile,
Till driven from the haunts of men
Has been the Devil, chained again,
Condemned eternally, to dwell
As ruler of a burning hell.

Let rapidly the ages roll,
Till have the heavens as a scroll
Been gathered, and the earth doth quake
As Gabriel will the trumpet take
And flying through the air will blow
Thy doom, for Time, thou Death, must know;
But in thy stead shall God above
Give endless life and perfect love.

Roll on, the dreadful judgment day,
When men shall reap what sown have they
In life; the day of days most feared
By wicked men, but most endeared
To those who've persecutions stood,
While striving for the Master's good;
The day when men must venture forth
To sell according to their worth.

The day when brought before the throne,
Nor race, nor nation will be known;
And when from earth's remotest bounds
The seraphim will catch the sounds.
Of rustling wings and happy songs,
As those redeemed, enraptured throngs,
Who for the Cross have labored hard,
Shall come to gather their reward.

And when iniquity and sin
The cause of wickedness of men
Appear, their sentence to receive,
The Savior will His angels give
Command to bind them hand and feet,
And hurl them from the mercy seat
Into the burning lake beneath,
Where they shall wail and gnash their teeth.

Roll on, the day when Christ as king,
Those whom His. blood redeemed shall bring
With Him, to dwell forevermore
On Canaan's bright celestial shore;
Who carry palms of victory
And harps of sweetest melody,
Down at His precious feet will fall,
And help to crown him, Lord of all.

And on their golden pinions borne
His saints will circle 'round the throne
With hallelujahs, and again
Will sing the Christian's sweet refrain
Which never heaven heard before,
But then will hear forevermore,
Of "Hallelujah, praise the Lord!
Redeemed we've been through Jesus' blood."

And harp and psalter will repeat
The chorus in communion sweet;
And at the throne will angels meet,
Their crowns to cast at Jesus' feet,
And shout: "Hosanna, Christ the slain
For sinful man, now lives- again,
Where life shall never have an end
Now and forevermore—Amen."


Address to the Harp…18
The Harp Awaking…27
The Harp's Song Begun…18
Negro Peoples of Antiquity…35
Blood Power…45
Retrogression Begins…46
The Slaver Arrives…49
Negro Labor…54
Runaway Slaves…56
Negro Religion…60
The Revolutionary War…62
Crispus Attucks…68
Bunker Hill…65
War of 1812…68
Agitation of Abolition…74
Under-Ground Railroad…74
The Vial of Wrath…81
Frederick Douglass…82
White Friends…85
John Brown…87
Divided Sentiment…90
Secession and Sumpter…91
Negroes Denied the Right to Enlist…93
Bull Run…95
Other Battles…96
Negroes Contrabands of War…97
Failures of Yankee Generals 98
Emancipation Proclamation and Arming of Blacks…99
Recruiting the Blacks…99
White Officers Refused to Lead Them…101
The First Colored Regiment and Port Hudson…102
Milliken's Bend…107
Fort Wagner…109
Fort Pillow 112
Negro Soldiers Welcomed…115
Negro Not Called Criminals…116
Freedom in '65 Real…117
Leaving Old Homes and Masters…119
Self Dependence…120
Negro Labor Changed Dixie…123
Education of the Race…125
The Ballot…126
Carpet Baggers…129
Negro Suffrage not a Mistake…131
Intelligent Negroes Most Despised…135
Negroes in the Senate…139
House of Representatives…141
Shame on Columbia…143
Who are the People? How Classed?...144
Representation Necessary to Existence as FreeMen...147
Scalawags and Renegades…150
The Ku Klux Klan…153
Ballot Box Stuffing...156
Skilled Workmen...158
Financial Success…174
Philippine War…198
National Ingratitude…199
Appeal to Heaven…204
The Mob Spirit…209
Russian Horrors…214
Legislated Against…217
Jim Crow Laws…221
Foreign Labor…225
Riddance of Criminals…227
Statesmen Disgressed…229
No Advocates…234
Let Them Alone…236
Black Not a Disgrace…239
Neither Emigration, nor Segregation…244
Contend for Rights…250
Leaders and Martyrs…251
Armed Resistance…252
The Leader…254
Black Kingdoms of the Future…261


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