Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/323

 1840-50.] GEORGE W. CUTTER. 307 Where the rocks never saw the sun decline, Or the dawn of the glorious day, I bring earth's glittering jewels up From the hidden caves below, And I make the fountain's granite cup With a crystal gush o'erflow. I blow the bellows, I forge the steel. In all the shops of trade ; I hammer the ore and turn the wheel Where my arms of strength are made ; I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint ; I carry, I spin, I weave, And all my doings I put into print, On every Saturday eve. I've no muscle to weary, no breast to decay, No bones to be " laid on the shelf," And soon I intend you may " go and play," While I manage this world myself. But harness me down with your iron bands, Be sure of your curb and rein ; For I scorn the power of your puny hands, As the tempest scorns a chain. NEVER! NEVER!* You ask me when I'd rend the scroll Our fathers' names are "written o'er ; When I would see our flag unroll Its mingled stars and stripes no more; When with a worse than felon hand Or felon counsel, I would sever The Union of this glorious land; I answer: Never — never — never! Think ye that I could brook to see The banner I have loved so long, Borne piecemeal o'er the distant sea ; Torn, trampled by a frenzied throng ; the dissolution of the Uni n ? I answer : Never — never — never! " — Henry Clay, Onited States Senate. Divided, measured, parcel'd out ; Tamely surrendered up lor ever, To gratify a soulless route Of traitors ? Never — never — never. Give up this land to lawless might, To selfish fraud and villain sway ; Obscure those hopes with endless night That now are rising like the day ; Write one more page of burning shame To prove the useless, vain endeavor Our race from ruin to reclaim, And close the volume ? Never — never ! On yonder lone and lovely steep, The sculptor's art, the builder's power, A landmark o'er the soldier's sleep, Have rear'd a lofty funeral tower ; There it will stand until the river That rolls beneath shall cease to flow. Aye, till that hill itself shall quiver With nature's last convulsive throe. Upon that column's marble base, That shaft that soars into the sky. There still is room enough to trace The countless millions yet to die ! And I would cover all its height And breadth, before that hour of shame, Till space should fail whereon to write Even the initials of a name. Dissolve the Union ! mar, remove The last asylum that is known. Where patriots find a brother's love, And truth may shelter from a throne ! Give up the hopes of high renown, The legacy our fathers will'd ! Tear our victorious eagles down Before their mission is fuLfiUed ! Dissolve the Union — while the earth Has yet a tyrant to be slain ! Destroy our freedom in its birth. And give the world to bonds again !
 * " I may lie asked, as I have teen asked, when I am for