The Cross on Rock Independence

    Best Hero is best Man in every sphere;
        The noblest soul is always meek and just; 
    Its pride, that tramples upon human fear,
        And treads down peril as the common dust,
        Is the calm nursling of a lowly Trust; 
    For he whose faithful spirit walks with God,
        Soars above terror and unworthy lust. 
    And will not wield, nor suffer, the base rod 
Of tyrant power that makes Humanity a clod.

    No pompous Braggart's egoistic " I,"
        In his small worth and over-swollen conceit; 
    No blatant ruffian, who can pitch more high
        His threatful clamor than the valorous beat 
        Of his fierce heart ; nor he whose fears defeat 
    More than injustice or an evil deed,
        May dare to front the Future's judgment-seat 
    And claim the name of Hero for his meed: 
The paths of inward peace to outward grandeur lead.

    High natures are alle giant to a Higher,
        And looking upward teaches them to climb.
    The soul that has no God, nor altar-fire, 
        Must grovel coldly in the barren slime 
        Of selfish pride, or at the flames of crime
    Warm the thick blood to false enthusiasm; 
        But Faith makes even our feebleness sublime,
    And, bridging Death, leaps every narrower chasm,
And turns to new Life's flight the last convulsive spasm!

    The Heroes 'balmed in everlasting song
        By the great Past, who drew from fearful odds
    New strength, for sterner conflict with the wrong, 
        Fought for their Country and their Household Gods;
        The laurel, grown on all their battle sods, 
    Hung round the Altar with their dinted arms;
        And he who sang in golden periods, 
        "Arms and the Man," with “pious,” crowned the charms 
Of his heroic worth in council and alarms.

    Nor shall this age, whose better faith demands 
        More strict devotion, lack heroic men
    Who will not blush to join victorious hands 
        In humble adoration, even then, 
        When hot blood urges to the charge agen!
    So have we seen our laureled WASHINGTON, 
        Besieging Heaven in some secluded glen,
    On bended knees ; then, armed with fire, anon 
Sweep the red field of War, till victory was won!

    So have we seen, in years allied to this,
        The bold PATHFINDER bowing to the Cross;
    And heard Detraction's atheistic hiss
        Greet the great Symbol of our Gain and Loss, 
        With foul lips' curl, and low head's scornful toss.
    As Envy maddened at our Hero's crown.
        Ah, gallant Soul! a thousand years may moss 
    The sign thou carvedst in thy young renown, 
But ere that fair fame fail, the Rock shall crumble down.

    Far in the savage wilds that granite blocks
        From the deep bowels of the mountain hurled, 
    Seems, in the grandeur of its barren rock, 
        The corner-stone of some unfinished world. 
        Huge Mausoleum, with Fame's scroll unfurled 
    Upon its surface, or an altar grand,
        With thunder-clouds for smoke of incense, curled 
    Above its awful front, where, graven, stand 
The names of brave, great, good, from many a rival land.

    While power, and pride, and bounding life were theirs,
        They made that Rock their living Monument;
    And for the strength with which, alone, it dares 
        The storms of ages, moveless and unrent, 
        Baptized it unto Freedom; and so blent
    Its name with this young Empire of the West,
        Whose " Independence," like that Rock, has sent 
    Its challenge to the thunder! and, confest, 
The World's great exiles set their names upon its breast.

    Here the young Hero of the mountain peaks,
        Who could have shamed the chamois on his Alp, 
    When, like a sunrise, he had hung the streaks 
        Of our starred Banner on the naked scalp 
        Of pinnacled rocks supreme— who knew the help 
    God lends the daring, in memorial love
        Graved his Redeemer's Cross. The gaunt wolf's whelp 
    May snarl below it, but heaven smiles above; 
True hearts of every name, and every creed, approve.

    If it were noble, and of worthy fame,
        To bear aloft his country's eagle flag
    Beyond the eagle's ken, and in her name 
        Unfurl it there, upon the topmost crag
        Of this New World, poised on a splintered jag 
    Where never yet the boldest foot had trod,
        Shall bigot Envy's soul-polluted hag 
    Cast down his laurels to the trampled sod, 
For that he laid them all upon the shrine of God?

    Ah, no ! the symbol of the bannered stars,
        Flung out far up the starry deeps of blue, 
    Is freedom for the arms that break the bars
        Of olden Empire, to create the new ;
        The holier symbol of the Cross he drew 
    On the rock basis of the eternal hills,
        Is freedom for the soul, who dares be true 
    In the long martyrdom of mortal ills. 
And many a noble heart that sign with rapture fills !