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THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION.
97
No lance has bleeding Freedom hurled—her life-long war to close?Has Power yet leave to walk the world and rend each wayside rose?"
"I stood on proud Columbia's strand—where Night her stars had left—And near and far I saw the land incarnadined and cleft:There ghoulish War's insatiate fire his feast of horror signed,And swept its forked flames ever higher the heavenward gaze to blind.
"The nation's brimmed communion-cup had spilled its holy wine;The slave his sad eyes lifted up, still gyved at Belial's shrine;Pale under Treason's upas-shade, Truth, worn and fainting, lay;And Europe paused, with half-drawn blade, as one who pants to slay.
"I saw, and thrilled the Ruler's heart—I nerved the Ruler's hand;And lo! he rent the gyves apart, on fair Columbia's strand!
