And yet, with Him who counts the sands, Inscribed against my name, Of all this mortal part has wrought; THE PEBBLE AND THE ACORN "I am a Pebble! and yield to none!" The pelting hail and the drizzling rain The Acorn was shock'd at this rude salute, This gravelly ball, the mundane sphere: From the comfortless spot where the Pebble lay. By the peering head of an infant oak! That the pride of the forest was folded up And meekly to sink in the darksome earth, Shall show the purpose for which I've been!" THE FROST. The Frost look'd forth one still clear night, I will not go on like that blustering train- Then he flew to the mountain and powder'd its crest; He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest In diamond beads; and over the breast Of the quivering lake he spread A coat of mail, that it need not fear He went to the windows of those who slept, By the light of the moon, were seen Most beautiful things: there were flowers and trees; There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees; There were cities, with temples and towers, -and these All pietured in silver sheen! ་ JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. THIS true poet of freedom and humanity, known and loved in both hemispheres, is of a Quaker family, and was born near Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1808. Until he was eighteen years of age, he remained at home, passing his time in the district school, in assisting his father on the farm, and writing occasional verses for the "Haverhill Gazette." After spending two years in the Academy at Haverhill, he went to Boston in 1828, and became editor of the "American Manufacturer," a newspaper devoted to the interest of a protective tariff. In 1830, he became editor of the "New England Weekly Review," published at Hartford, and remained connected with it for about two years; during which period he published a volume of poems and prose sketches, entitled Legends of New England. He then returned home, and soon after was elected by the town of Haverhill a representative to the Legislature of his native State. In 1836, he was elected Secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society, and defended its principles as editor of the "Pennsylvania Freeman," a weekly paper published in Philadelphia. About this time appeared his longest poem, Mogg Megone, an Indian story, which takes its name from a leader among the Saco Indians in the bloody war of 1677. In 1840, Mr. Whittier removed to Amesbury, Massachusetts, where all his later publications have been written. In 1845 appeared The Stranger in Lowell, a series of sketches of scenery and character such as that famed manufacturing town might naturally suggest. In 1847, he became corresponding editor of the "National Era," published at Washington, and gave to that paper no small share of its deserved celebrity. The next year, a beautifully-illustrated edition of all his poems, including his Voices of Freedom, was published by Mussey, of Boston. In 1849 appeared his Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal, written in the antique style by the fictitious fair journalist, who visits New England in 1678, and writes letters to a gentleman in England, to whom she is to be married, descriptive of the manners and influences of the times. In 1850 appeared his volume Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, a series of prose essays on Bunyan, Baxter, &c.; and, in the same year, Songs of Labor, and other Poems, in which he dignifies and renders interesting the mechanic arts by the associations of history and fancy. Since that time he has published Lays of Home, and The Chapel of the Hermits, and other Poems; while he frequently enriches the columns of the "National Era" with some felicitous prose essay, or some soul-stirring poem. Since the establishment of the "Atlantic Monthly" he has contributed to almost every number. Though boldness, energy, and strength are Whittier's leading characteristics, and though many of his poems breathe, in soul-stirring language, a defiant tone to the oppressor, and show a hatred of slavery as intense, if possible, as it deserves, yet many of his prose works and poems are marked by a tenderness, a grace, and beauty not exceeded by those of any other American writer. He thus unites qualities seemingly opposite in a heart every pulsation of which beats warmly for humanity. PALESTINE. Blest land of Judea! thrice hallow'd of song, With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, Lo, Bethlehem's hill-side before me is seen, And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw I tread where the TWELVE in their wayfaring trod; I stand where they stood with the CHOSEN of GOD,- Oh, here with His flock the sad Wanderer came,— And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet, But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea, And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Yet, Loved of the Father, Thy Spirit is near Oh, the outward hath gone!-but, in glory and power, On the heart's secret altar is burning the same! CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. [In the Report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, South Carolina, on the 4th of 9th month, 1835, published in the "Courier" of that city, it is stated,-"The CLERGY of all denominations attended in a body, LENDING THEIR SANCTION TO THE PROCEEDINGS, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene."] Just God! and these are they Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! What! preach, and kidnap men? Give thanks, and rob Thy own afflicted poor? What! servants of Thy own Merciful Son, who came to seek and save Pilot and Herod, friends! Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! Paid hypocrites, who turn Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book Of those high words of truth which search and burn Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! And, in your tassell'd pulpits, thank the Lord How long, O Lord! how long Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, Is not Thy hand stretch'd forth Woe, then, to all who grind Their brethren of a common Father down! Woe to the priesthood! woe To those whose hire is with the price of blood, |