The drapery of death enshrouds,
In its dark, funereal pall,
Each quiet home. Its gloomy shade
Reveals the grief of all.
A country mourns. The moaning winds
Sigh requiems of woe;
E’en from the shifting clouds the tears
In crystal showers flow.
Our Father’s dead! from our sad hearts
Goes up one burden’d strain,
Till every trait of his great life
As monuments remain.
We fondly, thro’ the vista dim,
Our tearful visions cast,
And live in memory o’er again
Each history of the past.
We watch him in the ship of state,
On a treacherous, bloody tide:
’Neath his firm hand the nation’s bark
In triumph on shall ride.
His eagle eye, through shadows dark,
Still saw the beacon light;
His heart, unwavering, placed its trust
In God and freedom’s right.
Now came the promised shore in view,
Now dawned the glorious day;
The darksome river brighter grew,
Reflecting victory’s ray
Rebellion falls—a bleeding form—
Upon the crimson deck;
While Slavery sinks beneath the stream,
A black, dismantled wreck.
A peaceful rainbow bends its hues
Across the mighty strand;
It faded soon:—a ruler loved
Fell ’neath a traitor’s hand.
Mid festive scenes the assassin comes
To act the dastard deed:
The nation’s heart was wounded
When she saw the patriot bleed.
The stripes that deck Columbia’s flag
Grew pallid at the sight;
The brilliant galaxy of stars
Flashed with a vivid light.
The unseen spirit of our land
Seem’d living in her wrath,
And threw the starry banner’s folds
Across the murderer’s path.
But from her clasp the assassin fled,
Like all the rebel horde,
Who spurn our colors with their heel,
And grasp the traitor’s sword.
Centuries ago, that day,
A saddening act was done,
That rocked the earth in horror
And dimmed the radiant sun.
The Anointed One was crucified,
Mid agony and shame.
“Father, forgive them!” still he prayed,
Whilst _they_ reviled his name.
Towards the mount of Calvary
The heavy cross was borne
By one of Afric’s sons, a race
Now abject and forlorn.
The cruel yoke was on their life,
Its curse upon their head,
Till another raised its ponderous weight:
For it his blood was shed.
Upon Good Friday’s holy eve
The stalwart Roman band
Removed the cross, lest its dread form
Pollute the Jewish land.
Upon Good Friday’s holy eve
Columbia’s noblest son
Laid down the weighty cross he bore:
The martyr crown was won.
When in the capital to him
A monument shall rise,
The record of a nation’s love,
The tribute of her sighs,
We’ll vow that traitorous deeds no more
Shall desecrate our fame;
No more the blot of slavery
Shall stain Columbia’s name.
PHILADELPHIA, April 19, 1865.