The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

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[93]
     Breathe forth once more those tones sublime
Which thrilled the burdened prophet's lyre,
     And in a dark and evil time
Smote down on Israel's fast of crime
     And gift of blood, a rain of fire!

Oh, not for us the graceful lay
     To whose soft measures lightly move
The footsteps of the faun and fay,
     O'er-locked by mirth and love!
But such a stern and startling strain
     As Britain's hunted bards flung down
From Snowden to the conquered plain,
     Where harshly clanked the Saxon chain,
On trampled field and smoking town.

By Liberty's dishonored name,
     By man's lost hope and failing trust,
By words and deeds which bow with shame
     Our foreheads to the dust,
By the exulting strangers' sneer,
     Borne to us from the Old World's thrones,
And by their victims' grief who hear,
     In sunless mines and dungeons drear,
How Freedom's land her faith disowns

Speak out in acts. The time for words
     Has passed, and deeds suffice alone;
In vain against the clang of swords
     The wailing pipe is blown!
Act, act in God's name, while ye may!
     Smite from the church her leprous limb!
Throw open to the light of day