Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2.
Frank Moore, Ed.

[107] Come on with your “chattels,” all worn, from the soil
Where men receive scourging in payment for toil;
Come, robbers! come, traitors! we welcome you all,
As the leaves of the forest are welcomed by fall.
The birthright of manhood awaits for your slaves,
But prisons and halters are waiting for knaves;
And the blades of our “mud-sills” are longing to rust
With their blood who would bury our stars in the dust.

They die unlamented by people and laws,
Whose lives are but shadows on Liberty's cause;
They slumber unblest by Fraternity star,
Who have blocked up the track of Humanity's car;
Regarded, when dead, by the wise and the good,
As shepherds regard the dead wolf in the wood;
And only unhated when Heaven shall efface
The mem'ry of wrong from the souls of the race.

The streams may forget how they mingled our gore,
And the myrtle entwine on their borders once more;
The song-birds of Peace may return to our glades,
And children join hands where their fathers joined blades:
Columbia may rise from her trial of fire,
More pure than she came from the hand of her sire;
But Freedom will lift the cold finger of scorn,
When History tells where her Traitors were born.