Libertys Martyr a Poem in Eight Cantos

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From cotton fields where, leaning on his hoe, The toiler raised no hand to stay the flow Of welling tears; from many a cabin home Whence fathers bade inquiring fancy roam In search of sons and daughters loved too well- Horn, loved and reared for other men to sell; From many a mother's heart by anguish torn, Hereft of all the loved ones she had borne, Arose incessant plaints against the wrong, And still they cried, "How long, O Lord, how long?" Frojn dungeon walls where prisoners shook their cha
...ins, And filled the air with weird, religious strains; From minds beclouded with their thraldom's night; From mansions where the captives' yoke seemed light; From every Southern dale and cultured plain The plaintive cry went up with swelling strain. It rose above the might of ocean's roar That struck its notes upon the rugged shore; CANTO THE SIXTH. 53 The clash of warfare in the crimsoned vale Was drowned beneath this all-important wail; It gathered volume mid the upland rills, And swept with grandeur up the wooded hills; It stayed not in its gracious, heavenward flight Till in the regions of celestial light- Attended by a myriad angels there, An earth-born-, earnest, agonizing prayer From creatures groaning 'neath a cruel rod It halted at the very throne of God, And spread itself in accents pure and strong, The same refrain, ''How long, O Lord, how long?" An answer from the battlements above To earth one day descended fraught with love, Found a responsive chord in Lincoln's heart And bade him promptly act a steward's part.

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