The Worth of the Union

Brave heart of granite firmness, 
     That to our Northland gives
The bounding tide of valor's blood, —
     The pulse whereon she lives; —
Why beats that pulse so feebly
     That was wont to leap so high?
Why bend so low, thou stubborn neck,
     To the Southron's chivalry?

Sons of the brave New England!
     Ye are plundered, ye are whipt,
Ye are shot, and hanged, and fettered;
     Yet how dumb and lily-lipped
Are your brothers, are your fathers, 
     Are the rulers of your land, —
Nay, linking with the murderer’s 
     Their own heart and their hand.

O Brothers of the Northland!
     What means that hueless lip?
Have ye no blood to crimson aught
     But the Southron’s knife and whip?—
No drop in all your fluttering hearts
     That pallid cheek to tinge?—
Or why so very lily-like
     Do ye nod, and duck, and cringe!

Ha! children of the Meekness,
     Is it Peace ye love so well,
Whose boast is in your warrior sires,
     And the rights for which they fell,
That ye have borne thus tamely
     The insolence of those
Whose bounty lives in thievery,
     Whose chivalry in blows?
See, now, those rights are trampled
     By Slavery’s iron hoof,
And the honor of your Mothers
     This day is put to prof;
Ye are but base-born cowards,
     Begot by driveling slaves,
If yet so meanly ye endure
     The whip that o’er ye waves.

Have ye no borne enough, and more,
     The menace and the blow,
Or will ye crouch again, and lick
     The foot that spurned ye so?
How many a Northman’s blood must feed
     The Southron’s famished sod,
And, reeking from the blighted plains,
     Appeal from Man to God;—
How many a Hall of Freedom,
     In horrid sacrifice,
‘Mid the howl of Slavery’s hell-dogs
     Go blazing to the skies,—
How many a trembling matron
     Watch o'er her hunted son,
In whom the taint of Liberty 
     Has brought the loud pack on,—
E’er ye find your blanching Manhood, 
     And rise upon their track;
And with strong heart and hand once more
     At their peril bid them back!

Calmly ye saw your symbol Bird 
     On another's dove-cote stoop,
And bear away his fluttering prey, 
     At one destroying swoop;
Ye saw him tear the Baby
     From the shrieking Mother's breast,
Fleshing his beak in its soft cheek;
     And still, your hands could rest.
Now his impartial hunger
     Demands another prey,
And from your own warm hearth-fires
     He plucks your sons away.

Their blood, of Man unheeded,
     O’er Heaven’s high wall doth climb,
To plead against the robber-land,
     Where mercy is a crime.
From far Floridia [sic], hear ye not
     The gride of the prison door?
And the heavy clank of dungeon-chains
     From blood-stained Baltimore?
These are bolts and manacles
     New England’s children earn,
When their generous souls, with pity,
     For their bleeding brothers yearn.
Low pining in his noisome vault,
     With burning heart and brain,
Shall the pale and dying captive
     Appeal to you in vain?
Then must the damp-mouthed dungeon,
     More pitiful than ye,
With its putrid breath of poison,
     Bid the prisoned soul be free.

Now by our Human Nature,
     Wrung to its last extremes
Of tyrant wrong, and servile fear,
Of suffering love, and vengeance drear,—
     And by the nightmare dreams
Of gorged Oppression’s bloated fiend,
     With human blood replete,
Startled by terrors from above,
     And mines beneath his feet,—
And by your plundered households,
     And your brothers’ murder-shrieks,
By your redly-blazing Temples,
     Whose every fire-tongue speaks;
By Alton’s deafening death-cry,
     And Cincinnati’s shame,—
By Pennsylvania’s glowing Hall—
     Her Freedom’s funeral-flame,—
By all the Southern dungeons
     That hold your crimeless sons,—
And the despairing bondman’s prayers
     And burning malisons,—
Be roused from shameless slumbering!
     The hand is at your throat,
That from the Black man's forehead
     The crown of Manhood smote.

Now speak! — or, dumb forever, 
     Trail on your clanking chain,
And give your white cheek to the brand, 
And creep around your plundered land 
On pliant knee and coward hand, I
     In Slavery's spaniel-train!
Put on your ancient valor, 
     And rise, if yet ye can,
Till the haughty Tyrant trembles
     Before the upright MAN;
And from Canadian forests
     O'er all our rugged hills, 
On to Virginia's mountains
     One voice like thunder thrills, -
"Down with the bloody Union!
     Mighty alone to spoil!
Wrench off its anaconda-folds
     Or perish in their coil!
Pluck dow that fustian banner,
     Whose stars gleam redly there
Like demon-eyes, wide-blighting all
     Beneath their savage glare;
And rend its streaks of crimson
     Types of the hungry lash
That ploughs its livid furrows deep
     On Woman’s naked flesh!
‘NO UNION WITH THE SLAVEHOLDER!’
     Down with the blood-streaked flag!
Trample that gore-writ Compact
     With Slavery’s wrinkled hag!
We snap the bond which held us;
     And to remotest time
Stand severed from the robber-land,
     Where mercy is a crime!”