240
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER. XIII.
THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
Shall tongues be mute when deeds are wrought
Which well might shame extremest hell?
Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell?
Shall Honor bleed?—shall Truth succumb?
Shall pen and press and soul be dumb?
Which well might shame extremest hell?
Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell?
Shall Honor bleed?—shall Truth succumb?
Shall pen and press and soul be dumb?
No;—by each spot of haunted ground
Where Freedom weeps her children's fall,—
By Plymouth's rock and Bunker's mound,
By Griswold's stained and shattered wall,
By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade,
By all the memories of our dead!
Where Freedom weeps her children's fall,—
By Plymouth's rock and Bunker's mound,
By Griswold's stained and shattered wall,
By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade,
By all the memories of our dead!
By their enlarging souls, which burst
The bands and fetters round them set,
By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed
Within our inmost bosoms, yet,
By all above, around, below,
Be ours the indignant answer,—No!
—Whittier.
The bands and fetters round them set,
By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed
Within our inmost bosoms, yet,
By all above, around, below,
Be ours the indignant answer,—No!
—Whittier.
When Judge Watson, the president of the League, reached his office on that eventful March morning, he found his desk deluged with telegrams from all over the country. From the South the cry was: "Can nothing be done?" "Where is Massachusetts? Has our old friend been turned against us at last?" "For God's sake help us!" "How long, O
