An ode at a New York Fair.
--We quote from the ode sung at the opening ceremonies of the New York Sanitary Fair, two stanzas, which probably did not strike those who sang or listened to them as false and blasphemous: ‘ God of all nations, Sovereign Lord,In thy dread name we draw the sword,
We lift the starry flag on high
That fills with light our stormy sky.
No more its flaming emblems wave
To bar from hope the trembling slave,
No more its radiant glories shine
To blast with woe one child of thine.
’ As a commentary on these defying lines, is the following brief extract from the New York World. We were told when the war broke out that the people of the North--Christians — were going South to regenerate the "lost tribes" of that region. How has it been done? Let the still smoking ruins of Hopefield and Greenville, and Lake Providence, and Young's Landing tell the story. We were told, too, that the war would redeem the race of blacks from bondage. How has this been done? Let the lecherous scoundrels who disgrace the name of officer or private answer. The morals of the North were shocked by the narratives of Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mr. Trowbridge, but what has our army done? What became of the poor contrabands that escaped into our lines at White river, Nashville, and Bridgeport? The brutality of our officers at these points exceeded anything that fiction could produce. Has it come to this — that the Stars and Stripes, once so respected and feared, are to cover robbery and piracy, and make them legal through power? ‘ No more its radiant glories shine.
To blast with woe one child of thine.
’
