83. the Southern Cross.
Deem not the ravished glory thine;Nor think the flag shall scathless wave
Whereon thou bid'st its presage shine,
Land of the traitor and the slave!
God never set that holy sign
In deathless light among his stars
To make its blazonry divine
A scutcheon for thine impious wars!
And surely as the wrong must fail
Before the everlasting right,
So surely thy device shall pale
And shrivel in the Northern Light!
Look, where its coming splendors stream!
The red and white athwart the blue,
While far above, the unconquered gleam
Of Freedom's stars is blazing through!
Hark to the rustle and the sweep,
Like sound of mighty wings unfurled,
And bearing down the sapphire steep
Heaven's hosts to help the imperilled world!
Light in the North! Each bristling lance
Of steely sheen a promise bears;
And all the midnight where they glance
A rosy flush of morning wears!
Yon symbol of your Southern sky
Shall surely mean but grief and loss;
Then tremble, as ye raise on high,
In sacrilege, the Southern Cross!
O brothers! we entreat in pain,
Take ye the unblessed emblem down!
Or purge your standard of its stain,
And join it with the Northern Crown!
Atlantic Monthly.