Genius Of Liberty

POETRY.

From the Philanthropist.

THE FUGITIVE.

'Tis night—a wild and stormy night—
The snow-wreaths sweep before the blast:
The storm-god revels in his might,
And hurls his arrows thick and fast.
The ancient oak, whose towering pride
So long his fierce assaults defied.
Yields to his power—the riven stem
Shall boast no summer diadem.
With noiseless step and crouching form,
Who ventures forth to brave the storm?
Now flying swift before the wind.
Now stealing wistful looks behind.
As though he feared a lurking foe—
He recks not of the drifting snow.
This howling blast, this fearful strife,
Is summer sun-shine to the life
'That he, a man, with heart to feel,
Born, till that heart was turn'd to steel.
But say! what crime of horrid die
Hath forced the friendless wretch to fly?
Hath dire revenge, in wanton mood,
Imbrued his hands in human blood?
Ah, no! a blameless life he led,
Contented to be work'd and fed:
Prompt to obey his master's call;
Abused himself, yet kind to all;
For tender ties had bound his heart,
And one, from whom 'twere death to part,
Was ever near, with gentle care,
To soothe his woes, his burdens share.
With cheek that knows no tinge of shame,
And iron heart, stern Avarice came.
Behold! her wretched victim sold,
Hand-cuff'd and chain'd, for sordid gold—
Then, like a brute, to market driven—
A spectacle to earth and heaven.
Wonder ye now, that he should fly,
And storms and savage men defy?
Hark! hark! a cry! a swift pursuit
Of dogs and men! On horse, on foot,
Kentucky's Chivalry is out—
The rifleman, the wily scout,
With practised hand and deadly aim,
Less used to brute, than human game,
—
Tracking the man through field and wood,
Whose father with their fathers stood
Amid the battle's deadly strife,
And with them peril'd limb and life—
Whose mother, long to toil inured.
With theirs the bloody siege endured,
—
Fair recompense for lives of toil,
Ye sons of brave Kentucky's soil!
Onward he speeds. The dawning light
Quickens the panting captive's flight.
Before him, freedom's guiding star
With holy radiance beams afar:
Behind, he hears the clanking chain—
Say! shall it bind those limbs again?
No! by the strength that God hath given—
By all his hopes beneath the heaven—
By the bleak earth and storm-girt sky—
The captive shall be free, or die!
O'er trackless wastes of hill and glen,
Avoiding all the haunts of men,
"Faint yet pursuing," still he flies,
With stiffen'd limbs and sleepless eyes.—
But see! the fair Ohio's tide!
Now, "life or death!" the wanderer cried.
The hope of freedom nerves his arm.
He can but die, and death thus won
Were, next to freedom, heaven's best boon.
On leaps the skiff—a moment more,
He springs exulting on the shore—
He clasps his hands—one thrilling cry—
"Thank God for life and liberty!"
Ohio! freedom's favor'd soil!
Land of the gallant and the free!
Pledg'd by our fathers' blood and toil
To equal rights and liberty!
No cringing slave pollutes thy sod;
No tyrant mars the work of God;
With gentle sway, thy equal laws
Maintain the poor man in his cause;
Thy sons with generous ardor fired.
With love of liberty inspired,
Unbound the captive's galling chain;*
Say! shall they bind it on again?
Answer, ye craven hearts! that lust
For the slave hunter's sordid dust—
Who, for a paltry bribe, betray
The outcast wanderer on his way.—
One scours the street with watchful eye;
One lurks an unsuspected spy;
Another kindly lends his press,
Gazetting forth his form and dress;
Others make laws to close your door—
"Tis felony to feed the poor!
Heaven help ye! Less ye seem like men,
Than savage beasts in rocky den.
But, the poor fugitive! forlorn
And weary from the early morn,
Shunning the halls of wealth and state—
No friends of his the upstart great—
Hungry and faint, yet fearful still!
Of some untried, impending ill:
Through all the long and cheerless day
Still he pursues his toilsome way.—
As shadows steal the landscape o'er.
He seeks the humble cottage door,
Nor seeks in vain.—Some hearts still bleed
For human nature's utmost need.
Despite the Law, some gentle voice
Shall bid that wayworn man rejoice.
Refresh'd, consol'd,—counsel and aid
Are given, all danger to evade;
And with a kind "God speed ye!—forth
They send the pilgrim to the North.
Land of the North! Bleak, cheerless land!
Our boasted gifts were never thine;
Beneath a "tyrant's ruthless hand,"

* There shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude in this State, &c.—Constitution of Ohio, Art. 8.

Thy children claim no right divine
To traffic in a brother's blood,
And trample on the law of God;
To rob the laborer of his pay;
To steal his wife and child away
And for the horrid felon deed
The holy Saviour's sanction plead.
Our land, par excellence the free,
Can hold no fellowship with thee—
For, one bold dash across thy wave,
Gives freedom to the hunted slave.
Ho! for the North! right onward, speed!
God be thy refuge in thy need!
Through lonely wood and deep morass,
Through thicket drear and tangled grass.
Right onward, press!
The goal is won,
—
He gazes on the earth and sun—
And the full soul pent up so long,
Bursts forth in wild, exulting song.
"Freedom forever! listen earth!
And Heaven record my vow!
Slavery's brand shall leave no more
Its impress on my brow.
"Living or dying, these free limbs
Unshackled shall remain;—
O God! that one belov'd so well
Still drags the hateful chain.
Thou gentle sharer of my woes,
I fondly turn to thee:—
God fire my soul and nerve my arm!
And thou shalt yet be free."

M. L. B.

Cincinnati, December 31, 1840.