How he spoke his grand oration, in the scorn of all denials—
What the brave old madman told them—these are known the country o'er.
"Hang Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,"
Said the Judge, "and all such rebels!" with his most judicial frown.
But, Virginians, don't do it! for I tell you that the flagon,
Filled with blood of Old Brown's offspring, was first poured by Southern hands:
And each drop from Old Brown's life-veins, like the red gore of the dragon,
May spring up a vengeful Fury, hissing through your slave-worn lands;
And Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
May trouble you more than ever, when you've nailed his coffin down!
[From the Boston Liberator.]
JOHN BROWN OF OSAWATOMIE.
BY G. D. WHITMORE.
So you've convicted old John Brown! brave old Brown of Osawatomie!
And you gave him a chivalrous trial, lying groaning on the floor,
With his body ripped with gashes, deaf with pain from sabre slashes,
Over the head received, when the deadly fight was o'er;
Bound him guns with lighted matches, judge and lawyers pale as ashes—
For he might, perhaps, come to again, and put you all to flight,
Or surround you, as before!
