This is a fragment of a poem written in the album of a cousin in Philadelphia, in 1838. It was never before in print:--
It may be that tears at whiles Should take the place of folly's smiles, When 'neath some Heaven-directed blow, Like those of Horeb's rock, they flow; For sorrows are in mercy given To fit the chastened soul for Heaven; Prompting with woe and weariness Our yearning for that better sky, Which, as the shadows close on this, Grows brighter to the longing eye. For each unwelcome blow may break, Perchance, some chain which binds us here; And clouds around the heart may make The vision of our faith more clear; As through the shadowy veil of even The eye looks farthest into Heaven, On gleams of star, and depths of blue, The fervid sunshine never knew!
In the summer of 1856, Charles A. Dana, then one of the editors of the New York "Tribune," wrote to Whittier, calling upon him for campaign songs for Fremont. He said: "A powerful means of exciting and maintaining the spirit of freedom in the coming decisive contest must be songs. If we are to conquer, as I trust in God we are, a great deal must be done by that genial and inspiring stimulant." Whittier responded with several songs sung during the campaign for free Kansas, but the following lines for some reason he desired should appear without his name, either in the "National Era," in which they first appeared, August 14, 1856, or with the music to which they were set. A recently discovered letter, written by him to a friend in Philadelphia who was intrusted to set the song to music, avows its authorship, and also credits to his sister Elizabeth another song, "Fremont's Ride," published in the same number of the "Era." As the brother probably had some hand in the composition of this last-mentioned piece, it is given here. This is Whittier's song:--
The robber o'er the prairie stalks And calls the land his own, And he who talks as Slavery talks Is free to talk alone. But tell the knaves we are not slaves, And tell them slaves we ne'er will be; Come weal or woe, the world shall know. We 're free, we 're free, we 're free.
Oh, watcher on the outer wall, How wears the night away? I hear the birds of morning call, I see the break of day! Rise, tell the knaves, etc.