The Arkansas Banner

[Written for the Banner.]
SLANDER.
"He who steals my purse, steals trash;
"Twas mine! 'tis his; and has been slave to thousands!
But he who filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which enriches him not.
But makes me poor indeed."
The most deplorable evil with which human nature has to contend, is Slander. It is the deadliest foe to virtuous and energetic enterprise, and wrecks more splendid fortunes than the Simoom of the Indian Ocean. Unlike all other vices, it assumes to be the guardian of the public morals, and yet steals, or mars, the dearest jewels of love and happiness. It is rancorous and bitter in its hatred, while, at the same time, it boasts of being influenced only by the most sublime impartiality, and deceives itself with the grand idea that it is a blessing rather than a curse to the world. The tallest moral edifices give way under its insidious attacks; nor can the more modest and unassuming escape its malignant and scorching vituperations. Justice is its dread—Equity its night-mare; and with mercy or truth, gratitude or pity, forgiveness or charity, it was never known to have either communion or fellowship. It preys on the vitals of society; piles baleful fires on Hymen's altars; desecrates the temples of religion; separates the dearest friends; turns the milk of human kindness into wormwood and gall; blackens the fairest reputation; and, with its foul breath, besmirches the sweet face of christian love with an Ethiop's blackness. The sweet-eyed stars rebuke the terrible iniquity, and the good and truly noble everywhere deplore its alliance to poor fallen humanity, and pray for its destruction.
When will this cruel monster be lashed, with a whip of scorpions, naked through the world? When will it be driven, like the apostate angels, to its native hell? When will christianity be delivered from this incubus, which, like a blackened curse, lies upon her bosom festering and corrupting that which else would be as sweet as an angel's kiss, and as chaste and innocent as the Divine Son of Mary?
The Slanderer.
What burning pencil can portray the fiend
Whose words and thoughts with gall and wormwood blend—
Whose fetid breath infects the moral air,
Destroying all that's beautiful and fair!
The hired assassin, steep'd in crime and blood,
Of with a better nature is imbued:
He wounds the flesh, but leaves the spirit whole.
The other stabs and crushes heart and soul:-
With cold disdain shoots forth each barbed dart,
And rends and breaks the fond confiding heart;
Or, with a sneering glance, in dulcet tones,
Betrays a friend, then chuckles at his groans:
With keener relish sees the murd'rous steel
Enter the bosom he was bound to heal!
Oh! the Slanderer hath a tainted breath
More to be fear'd than pestilence or death!
A whisper heard—a tale well spiced is told,
Which soon 's enlarged, and into mountains roll'd:
From lip to lip the spectral scare-crow flies.
Till Truth abash'd, in mournful sadness, dies.
The cry is up—the hounds let loose—and oh
The cruel hands that give the trench'rous blow:
Not enemies, but bosom friends the while.
Who see a brother butcher'd with a smile!
These dastard ones, who batten on the food
Around which hungry buzzards hov'ring brood
Do they alone to vulgar cliques belong
Who visit hells, and Moloch's temples throng
Companions of the soul-debasing crew
Who never aught of heaven's own sweetness knew!
Ah no! within the Christian's fane they stand
And mingle with the blood-besprinkled band
E'en some who hold communion with the skies.
And teach redemption's holy charities,
Whose sanctimonious garb and manner seem
T" inspire a sacred reverence, yet deem
A slight departure from their faith far worse
Than that which spreads abroad a fearful curse,
And countenance the pack whose damning trade
Hath blasted thousands in its Upas shade!
Who plant sharp thorns in youth's enchanted path?
Engender strife, and blow the flames of wrath?
Destroy the sweetest fairest flowers that bloom,
Consigning millions to oblivious tomb?
The Slanderers! whose tongues with poison 's rife.
Who seek a lofty mark, and strike at life,
The brightest jewels of the heart descry.
And shoot at eagles as they sun-ward fly!
And yet the coin still passes current round,
And many feed and home the slandering hound.
Make merry o'er the wreck'd in life's bright morn.
And pass the sufferer by, with lip of scorn;
In social circles, blast a stranger's fame,
But on the score of self, pre-emption claim—
Snuff, like the gaunt hyena, bloody feasts,
And act the part of wild and savage beasts!
The Slanderers in church, or State, at home.
Abroad, where e'er this herd of monsters roam,
Should all be shunn'd as lepers, vile and scar'd,
And from communion with their kind debar'd.
Nought else can stay the epidemic's rage,
Effacing slander from the world's broad page!
Oh! then a new and glorious sun would rise,
And earth's sweet names become like Paradise!
Clarksville, Nov., '49.
OBSERVER.