THE CRISIS.[7]
The roar of battle peals afar.
In lurid haze, the Northern star
Gleams through the flaming clouds of war;
Death rides the burning blast.
What havoc on the groaning plain!
What never ending heaps of slain!
What tepid pools of purple rain!—
We look, and stand aghast.
And still the strife resounds abroad,
Earth trembles, and her forests nod,
As if she felt the stamp of God,
And heard His voice at last.
He speaks, indeed! Who hath an ear
To learn His will, may hark and hear
These hallowed words, to freedom dear,
Tyrants, release the slave!
And till that mandate is obeyed,
May Northern hearts beat undismayed,
And all the world, with generous aid,
Cheer on the loyal brave.
Ha! o’er the Southern plains shall spread
The children of the honoured dead,
And evermore above their head
The dear old flag shall wave;—
Shall wave with all its stars, a sign
That though the hosts of hell combine,
The cause of freedom is divine,
And slavery must expire.
A sign that, not in vain, the great
And good of every clime and state
Have battled with a bloody fate,
Breathing heroic fire.
I love the flag, because it flings
Defiance in the face of kings,
While Liberty expands her wings
To crown the world’s desire.
[7] These lines were written in reference to the American civil war, at the time known as “Grant’s Battles in the Wilderness,” when, in a note to the War Department, (May 11, 1864), he penned those memorable words, “I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer.”