A cross between a man and slave
This mongrel thing produces,
Who deems himself ordained to save
The Union by sham truces.
In strife between the Wrong and Right
To hold the nation's border,
Ashamed to run, afraid to fight,
He faintly squeaks out 'Order!'
The boasted friend of quiet, peace,
He'd quell all agitation,
By giving Satan longer lease
Of earth, to damn the nation.
No matter, though the Scriptures teach
The golden rule of action,
He says 'tis but a fancy speech,
And proves it to a fraction!
He knows no 'Higher Law,' but thinks
State Rights the Catechism;
Which having learned by rote, he links
His practice to his schism.
And thus is fitted to proclaim,
With all his might and vigor,
Nor feel a single blush of shame,
'That chains become a nigger!'
With him, Religion is a boon,
That Slavery may diddle;
God's laws to those of John Calhoun,
Play only second-fiddle!
The faith for which his fathers bled,
And died to make him heir to,
He quite ignores, and takes instead
That leading God knows where to.
O compromiser! what a gleam
Of glory hangs about you!
No wonder that you proudly deem
The world would spoil without you!
With supple knees to slavery bent,
Your conscience hangs on hinges,
And gives mild treason easy vent,
Despite compunction's twinges!
Rude but true. And these be times for truth, however rude.
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The New-York Evangelist: