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C. Edwards Lester, Life and public services of Charles Sumner: Born Jan. 6, 1811. Died March 11, 1874., Section Eighth: the war of the Rebellion. (search)
he carried into war something of the confidence inspired by the conscious sway of great multitudes, as he surely brought into speech something of the ardor of war. Call him, if you will, the Rupert of Battle; he was also the Rupert of Debate. * * Child of Poverty; he was brought, while yet in tender years, to Philadelphia, where he began life, an exile, having being born on a foreign soil. His earliest days were passed at the loom, rather than at school; and yet, from this lowliness he achieve, M. D., the gifted and well-known author of Scotland Illustrated, etc. I do not know if it has been published. I remember some of the stanzas. It is an address from England's Poets to the Poets of America. Your Garrison has faun'd the flame, Child, Chapman, Pierpont, caught the fire, And, roused at Freedom's hallow'd name, Hark! Bryant, Whittier, strike the lyre; While here hearts myriad trumpet-toned, Montgomery, Cowper, Campbell, Moore, To Freedom's glorious cause respond, In sound
ted these words, his own soul was knit in sympathy with the departed; and thus at once did he win to himself the friends of Freedom, though distant. * * Baker was Orator and Soldier. To him belongs the rare renown of this double character. Perhaps he carried into war something of the confidence inspired by the conscious sway of great multitudes, as he surely brought into speech something of the ardor of war. Call him, if you will, the Rupert of Battle; he was also the Rupert of Debate. * * Child of Poverty; he was brought, while yet in tender years, to Philadelphia, where he began life, an exile, having being born on a foreign soil. His earliest days were passed at the loom, rather than at school; and yet, from this lowliness he achieved the highest posts of trust and honor, being at the same time Senator and General. It was the boast of Pericles, in his funeral oration in the Ceramicus, over the dead who had fallen in battle, that the Athenians readily communicated to all, the ad
I recall with the highest pleasure, which, although ostensibly an anti-slavery dinner, was limited chiefly in its company to the literary men of London. Among the good things of that evening was a short poem written for the occasion by Wm. Beattie, M. D., the gifted and well-known author of Scotland Illustrated, etc. I do not know if it has been published. I remember some of the stanzas. It is an address from England's Poets to the Poets of America. Your Garrison has faun'd the flame, Child, Chapman, Pierpont, caught the fire, And, roused at Freedom's hallow'd name, Hark! Bryant, Whittier, strike the lyre; While here hearts myriad trumpet-toned, Montgomery, Cowper, Campbell, Moore, To Freedom's glorious cause respond, In sounds which thrill through every core. Their voice has conjured up a power No fears can daunt, no foes arrest, Which gathers strength with every hour And strikes a chord in every breast,— A power that soon in every land— On Europe's shore, on ocean'