A sound of tumult troubles all the air,
Like the low thunders of a sultry sky
Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare:
The hills blaze red with warnings: foes draw nigh,
Treading the dark with challenge and reply.
Behold the burden of the…
In compliance with the request of several persons, we reprint the admirable poem by Whittier, which the Hutchinson's were not allowed to sing on the other side of the Potomac, Gen. Kearney and Gen. Franklin having solemnly declared it to be…
My Home's on the mountain,
'Mid fragrance and shade,
Where gushes the fountain,
In wild flowers arrayed;
Where nature is sweetest,
Unfashion'd by art,
And winds wing their fleetest -
A home of the heart.
The bright summer's morning
Breaks…
They say these stars do shine more bright
Than those of the Northern zone,
And these skies do glow with a warmer light
Than freedom's land doth own.
They tell me that where the bondmen flee
My brothers starve and die;
But oh! I would go where…
Dr. John Pierpont, at the Boston Anti-Slavery Fair, in 1842, being asked for his autograph, hastily dashed off the following:Our tobacco they plant, andour cotton they pick
And our rice they can harvest and thrash;
They feed us in health and they…
Dr. John Pierpont, at the Boston Anti-Slavery Fair, in 1842, being asked for his autograph, hastily dashed off the following:Onemouth andoneback to two hands is the law
That the hand of his Maker has stamped upon man;
But Slavery lays on God's…
Oh! let the soul its slumber break, Arouse its senses and awake,
To see how soon
Life, with its glories, glides away, And the stern footsteps of decay,
Comes stealing on.
How pleasure, like the passing wind, Blows by, and leaves us nought…
The Sabbath day has passed, and night
Her sable mantle over all had spread.
The silent pavement, now deserted quite,
Gave back to mortal ear no echoing tread.
The lordly master and the trembling slave,
The poor, proud youth, who scorns his…
SOFT are the fruitful flowers that spring The welcome promise of the spring,
And soft the vernal gale;
Sweet the wild warblings of the grove, The voice of nature and of love,
That gladdens every vale.
But softer, in the mourner's ear, Sounds the…
