The State Rights Democrat

AN ODE pronounced at the raising of the New Banner of the Metropolitan Democratic Club of the City of New York.
By P. O. Wright
Recitativ
When Freedom left the empyrean dells To dwell among the sons of earth, She sought and found her cherubed home Where high-souled genius claimed its birth:
She gathered there a chosen band Who reared her temple, throne and shrine, And hailed her to their native land Where first her heaven-born light did shine;
They placed her on the mountain's height And flung her banner to the air,
"She tore the azure robe of night And pinioned the stars of glory there."
Through golden years those stars have shone With equal splendor in wide heavens,
But now their lingering lustre are gone As twilight fades in autumn's eves.
Now, darkness holds the realm of night, And storm-full clouds shut out the sky,
And lurid streaks of faction's light Like basilisk lightnings, dash and fly,
Now, Freedom calls her gallant band, And bids them swear before her shrine,
To hurl the despots from her land, As did our Fathers in their time.
The paling orbs proclaim the dawn- The morning breaks upon the scene!
And light-winged zephyr greets the lawn Where Moloch's scalding breath has been
The lurid fires of hate still burn, Though Peace hath taken her heavenly sway,
And every patriot's eye shall turn With joy to hail her new-born day.
Hear Justice now her mandate rise, And Mercy pleading from the skies,
No more shall armed oppression live! It victims of the usurper rise:
Bid Vengeance sheath her whetted sword, Nor heed its mean behest of Hate,
Nor Malice, lest her venom'd word Should signal e'en the tyrant's fate.
Hear Freedom's voice from tower and dome, As borne on echo's airy wing.
O'er hill and dale to each loved home, Resounding in the welkin's ring;
She bids Columbia's sons arise By holy memories of their sires!
To heed the mandate from the skies, And light her darkened altar fires.
Hear Love's dear voice her mission tell, In murmuring accents, soft and sweet,
As music of the fairy's bell, Or laughing waters when they meet;
She kindles now her wonted flame In every true born freeman's soul,
Entwines the hero's wreath of fame, And lights his pathway to her goal.
Hear Truth, in trembling accents, plead Amidst the ruins of her fane,
As pointing where her votaries bleed, She questions, Who shall build again?
Who shall resume her dying flame Where erst it shed its holy light,
And blazon there Columbia's name High o'er the clouds of error's night?
Oh, list! brave men, that voice of woe Which late awoke the Bastile's gloom,
Whose lingering cadence, hushed and low, Proclaims the base-born tyrant's doom;
Would yon grim walls their tale relate And uttered vows of vengeance tell
Then minions should discern their fate, Nor dare to "TOUCH THAT LITTLE BELL!"
Lo! In yon heaven the blended rays Of Justice, Freedom, Love and Truth,
With hues supernal gild the days As hope bespans the sky of youth;
So grateful memories of our sires Illume our path to Freedom's shrine,
And light again her altar fires With fervor of the olden time.
The conflict nears, true hearts be brave! Who dares not nobly in the strife
His birthright yields to be a slave. And gives to fame dishonored life.
His country claims his manhood's troth, And twines for him, of greenest bays,
A
garland of immortal youth, Unfading as the eternal days.