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• 1 2023-06-22T10:14:21-04:00 Maurice N. Corbett, "The Harp of Ethiopia" (full text) (1914) 7 Collection of poetry published in Nashville, Tennessee in 1914 plain 2024-07-22T15:42:39-04:00 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
  BY MAURICE N. CORBETT
  
  Nashville, Tenn.;
  National. Baptist Publishing Board
  1914
  
  
  
  
  INTRODUCTION.
  
      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.
  
  
  
  
  PREFACE.
  
      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.
  
  Invocation.
  
  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.
  
  
  Creation.
  
  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.
  
  
  Africa.
  
  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.
  
  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.
  
  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.
  
  
  Overseers.
  
  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.
  
  
  CRISPUS ATTUCKS.
  
  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.
  
  
  Insurrections.
  
  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.
  
  
  Patrols.
  
  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.
  
  
  Wagner.
  
  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.
  
  
  Recapitulations.
  
  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?
  
  
  Preachers.
  
  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.
  
  
  Lawyers.
  
  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.
  
  
  Doctors.
  
  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.
  
  
  Authors.
  
  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.
  
  
  Poets.
  
  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.
  
  
  Hayti.
  
  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.
  
  
  Liberia.
  
  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.
  
  
  Abyssinia.
  
  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.
  
  
  Cuba.
  
  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?
  
  
  
  Lynching.
  
  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.
  
  
  Africa.
  
  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.
  
  
  Finis.
  
  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."
  
  
  INDEX
  
  Invocation…17
  Address to the Harp…18
  The Harp Awaking…27
  The Harp's Song Begun…18
  Creation…29
  Africa…35
  Negro Peoples of Antiquity…35
  Egypt…37
  Carthage…39
  Blood Power…45
  Retrogression Begins…46
  The Slaver Arrives…49
  Negro Labor…54
  Overseers…56
  Runaway Slaves…56
  Negro Religion…60
  The Revolutionary War…62
  Crispus Attucks…68
  Bunker Hill…65
  War of 1812…68
  Insurrections…70
  Patrols…72
  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
  Recapitulations…134
  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
  Preachers…163
  Lawyers…167
  Doctors…169
  Authors…170
  Poets…172
  Financial Success…174
  Haiti…178
  Liberia…184
  Abyssinia…188
  Cuba…193
  Philippine War…198
  National Ingratitude…199
  Appeal to Heaven…204
  The Mob Spirit…209
  Lynching…212
  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
  Africa…260
  Black Kingdoms of the Future…261
  Finis…267
  
   
• 1 2024-07-29T07:37:14-04:00 Maurice N. Corbett (1859-1931): Author Page 1 Biography and links to poems by North Carolina Poet Maurice Corbett plain 2024-07-29T07:37:14-04:00
  This biography was researched and written by Sarah Thompson in July 2024
  
  Born in 1859 in Yanceyville, Caswell, North Carolina, Maurice N. Corbett was born to a slave mother who was owned by Captain James Poteat. The Poteat family adopted Corbett as a part of their family, calling him “The Black Sheep.” A Shaw University graduate, Corbett became a prominent political figure and educated school teacher. He began his career teaching school in Yanceyville but quickly emerged as a key organizer for the Republican Party. In 1885, he was elected to the North Carolina House of Representatives from Caswell County, defeating his white counterpart in a contested election. His political journey continued in Washington, D.C., where he worked as a private secretary for Congressman Tom Settle in 1896, a position that stirred some controversy in the press because of Corbett’s racial identity. Corbett then worked for multiple printing presses. He married Elvira Gertude Henderson in November 1865, and together, they had three children. While the exact year of his death is unknown, census reports suggest he died after 1931 at approximately 73 years old. 
  
  Although Maurice Corbett is primarily recognized for his political contributions, his impact on African American poetry is also noteworthy. Corbett held various local and state political offices in the 1890s in Caswell County, an area renowned for its effective Union Leagues organized by freedpeople. His poetry collection The Harp of Ethiopia (1914) is a significant contribution to nineteenth-century African American poetry. Through a long chronological narrative, Corbett traces Black accomplishments from ancient Near East and Africa to contemporary times, including African people before enslavement and transport (see “Liberia”), the experience of Black people during slavery (see “Negro Labor Changed Dixie”), various forms of resistance and uprisings, including the Haitian revolution (see “Hayti”), the American Civil War (see “The First Colored Regiment (1st South Carolina) and Port Hudson” or “Secession and Sumpter”), Emancipation (see “Emancipation and Proclamation and Arming of Blacks”), the Reconstruction (see “The Ku Klux Klan Born”), the Spanish-American War (see “Cuba” or “Philippine War”), and into the early 20th century (see “Black Kingdoms of the Future”). Primarily in rhyming couplets, Corbett gives a history of the Black diaspora. Corbett concludes the collection with poems prophesying high achievements in politics and art of Black Americans. This collection is designed to awaken racial pride and celebrate the rich history and potential of African Americans. 
  
  Works Cited 
  
  Corbett, Maurice Nathaniel, Caswell County Genealogy, www.caswellcountync.org/getperson.php?personID=I39285&tree=tree1. Accessed 22 July 2024. 
  Downs, Gregory P.. Declarations of Dependence: The Long Reconstruction of Popular Politics in the South, 1861-1908. United States, University of North Carolina Press, 2011.
  Parini, Jay, and Miller, Brett C.. The Columbia History of American Poetry. United States, Columbia University Press, 1993.