OLD BROWN.
Old Lion! tangled in the net,
Baffled and spent, and wounded sore,
Bound, thou who ne'er knew bonds before,
A captive, but a lion yet.
Death kills not. In a later time,
(0, slow, but all-accomplishing!)
Thy shouted name abroad shall ring,
Wherever right makes war sublime.
When in the perfect scheme of God,
It shall not be a crime for deeds
To quicken liberating creeds,
And men shall rise wherre slaves have
trod;
Then he, the fearless future Man,
Shall wash the blot and stain away,
We fix upon thy name today -
Thou hero of the noblest plan.
0, patience, felon of the hour!
Over thy ghastly gallows-tree
Shall climb the vine of Liberty,
With ripened fruit and fragrant flower.
- Wm. D. Howells.
December, 1859.
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