61. is this the land of Washington?
by I. Q. Awood.Is this the land of Washington,
For which our patriot-fathers bled,
Whose mighty strides to freedom shook
Tie continent beneath their tread?
Is the land of Knox and Green--
Of Marion, Stark, and mighty Wayne,
Who hurled the despot from our.shores,
And dashed to earth his galling chain?
Were these our sires — are we the sons
Of men whose fame hath filled the earth?
And have we dwarfed and dwindled thus,
To mock the majesty of birth?
Arise! ye heroes of the past!
Where mould your bones by many a steep,
Behold the sons that heir your fame--
Behold your progeny and weep!
Were such, with old Laconia's son,1
The men who fought at Bennington?
Is this the land of Washington,
That warmed the patriot's sanguine dreams,
Where Liberty made bright her shield,
And nursed her eaglets in its gleams?
Where Bunker Hill and Monmouth field
Shot terror to the oppressor's soul,
And wrote, wi:h many a flying pen,
Their protests on a bloody scroll?
And shall hour-born oppression spurn
These creeds to alien tyrants taught,
And Freedom's beauteous limbs enthrall,
Or bind the lightning of her thought?
Shall her unwilling hands be made
To forge the insignia of her shame;
Her tongue to speak, her pen to write,
A flamling falsehood on her fame?
Say, ye who stood on Trenton's height,
Shall thus Columbia's freemen write?
No! never while one spars remains
Unquenched of freedom's altar-fires,
Which still may shoot aloft in flame,
Fanned by the memory of our sires;
No! not till every patriot's blood
Is poured upon the sword to rust,
And Liberty, without her shield,
Trails her bright garments in the dust;
Not till the mother fails to teach
Her offspring, with a zeal divine,
The foeman's rights, baptized in blood,
At Bunker Hill and Brandywine;
And not till this, and not till then,
Shall dawn that black and hateful hour
That dooms the patriot's tongue and pen
To bide the weight of bigot power;
And then to shame our father's graves,
We shall deserve the brand of slaves.
Owensboro, Ky., 1864.