’當’由’’’’’完成’
’’’示未’’’蕩’’’’
’’’’’那飽’’楚’’闊’膛’
由’方’’’’方’
’當’個’’’雄風偉’’
’’’’’’樹’’綻’’絢爛’朵’’
奴隸們不論’’’’’
’’’’們’心’’
’’’’’高’’嶺’’’’’當’’’’’降生之際’
’’’扭曲著’’’
’’’’牆’’’面’壁’
都爲之’顫’
’’’分’之’’’
’民族’’目瞪’面面’覷’
’’’’之’嬰’
’’未’之軀降生’’’
邪’’’’樣’著’’陰森’
飄蕩’’’陸’’播’難不’’
奴隸們不論’’’’’
都’’’’’’
渾’’熱’’
’’’’’’’收’盡’
’’’’未曾’’’’身’
’’’伏潛’’
填’高’’’’’
’類心’’’’
’’’’’’動’身軀中’
本’’’’正’’邪’’瞬’’’’
’類巨’’身軀’
’’’’’分離’
’論有’還’’心’
都’’’’樂’’’’’’’’
’個民族’’’’失’
都’’’民族均’平分’
’’個’’’’個民族’
’’’’們’’抉擇’
’’’’謬’’’擊中’
’’善還’’’’’
’項偉’’’’’’之’生’彌賽’’
讓我們選擇
盛’’’’還’’朽’’條’
左手’’羊還’’手’綿羊’
’’永遠’黑’’’’之間’選擇’
啊’我’’民’
’’’’飛’’
’’我們’’’揚’囂囂塵’’
’們’心’’?’’’邊立足?
邪’’’飛黃橫’’
’’有’’’’’邊’
雖’’正’離失’’
’我’’’’’偉’’天’’’’
’衛著’’’邪’’圍攻’
’’’日’’標’’’
’’’中’’’’
’遺忘’’面’’’’’
’’裏’市場中’
’’聽’’機’伏’’喊’
’喊’中’
’’手中揚’’情’簸箕’
’’’渣滓’剔除’
’’’之’’
’讓我們’’’’’累累精華’
偉’’’仇’顯’漫不’心’
歷’’章’’錄’’
’’舊’’’’’’’’
’黑’中’’我生’’鬥’
’’’終’據絞’’
邪’’’’’’’’’’’
’絞’’未’’撼’
’未’’’’’邊’
’’高’’立’目’’’’
俯瞰’創’’’切’
’’今’’
我們隱’’見’
’’渺’’’’偉’’
’’’’’
’’’’舵’’’’’’’’’’動’
’’魂’’’隱奧’’
市’嘈嘈’
’’爾斐’’’裏’
還’傳’不祥’肅肅’’’
“誰奴’’們’’’’’’
誰’’’’’握手’’’”
奴隸’’’幫’生’’’羅普斯’
巨’中’極’敗類’
身爲野’黑’之’’
它們’’’’’成’’
’親手’解’’’’’
它們饑’’’’
’我們’’之’’’’眼睛’
它們’’未’落’’區’
’’著’’’’’’
難’我們還’把它們’’’手’
引’’’’’童’’之’’?
’’’’’邊’
’分’寥寥’麵’’
高’’’’
而’’’歷’’
終’’’’’’豐饒’
正’’’’興’’
’’’’’選擇’
懦夫’’’邊’’’
’爲’魂’’瑣而疑’重重’
’’’’’’’’’’’
而’’’衆’
終’’’們曾’棄’’’’’
’’’’’’’輝’
歷歷’數’’’’之’雄’
’們’’’’’爲衆’而’’’
當衆’扔’’言’’’石塊’’
’們’’’’’
’眼’望’
’’’’’’’投’’徹’’正’’邊’
正’由’們’’’’’’’握’
由個’對’’’對’’’’’’排’
樸’’’’’握’
’著’’異教’’’’’
我目’’’’’’’’’’’
身’永不’’’’’’’
’難’’’’’爾瓦’斯’’
’’’’辛’’’
標’著’’個’’’’們’
’’學’’個偉’’’眼’
’’’
’’第’個’’’’之’’
面朝’天’’’
“’’”’’’’言’心中’
早’熊熊’’’
’’’’飛’’
今日’’之立足’’’
’日’見手’銀塊’’’’
’伏’’’
遠望’方’
’’’’豎立’’’堆’’’’
’日喧’’’們’
今日心’’’’
’’’’’收撿’散’’灰’
’它們’’歷’’’’’
傳統’’之遺’’
’’’我們’輩’墓’’’
’’’’’雄?
還’’’’爲’奴隸?
’聽’’’
’風遺言’’’’們’
’當今’’’視爲’’’’
’五月’’號’由懦夫’’’嗎?
’由落伍’’’’舵’嗎?
’路’竟’’’’還’’’’
’’普’’斯’’石燦爛輝煌’’
那’’雄心’當今之’’’
身’魁梧’反對偶像’
’’’絞’不’’’們’’
’切’’僅屬’’’
’而
我們’’們’’’
變成’我們’謬’’
我們把它’’’’爛’羊皮’堆裏
’爲’它贏’’我們’’由’
而我們’’’心’’
’’避那’’’衝動’
’’那種衝動’
’’’’雄們揚’’’’
誰’維’’’’
誰’’擁有’’’
而我們’’’’’’’
’’由’祭壇之’’
窒’’’’’’’遺骨中’
難’我們’’把’們’’條’
變成我們’桎梏?
當我們’不’’欲殺仇敵之際’
難’’’’’日’’’’墓中’
攫’’們’’’’’
’今日’’’’圍’
’’’’’’’’堆?
’’機’’’’’任’
’陰’移’
’風遺’不’’’’
’’’’齊’’’’
’須奮’’’’’’’’
’’!
’’’篝’’喚著我們’
我們’’須爲朝’’’
啓’我們’’五月’’號’
’’’’’’’面’’
滿’’’’穩操舵’’
讓我們’’不’
用’日’’鏽斑’’匙’
試圖打’未’’’’’
’ |
The Present Crisis
When
a deed is done for Freedom, through
the broad earth's aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on
from east to west,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the
soul within him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy
sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the
thorny stem of Time.
Through the walls of hut and palace shoots the
instantaneous throe,
When the travail of the Ages wrings earth's
systems to and fro;
At the birth of each new Era. with a
recognizing start,
Nation wildly looks at nation, standing with
mute lips apart,
And glad Truth's yet mightier man-child leaps
beneath the Future's heart.
So
the Evil's triumph sendeth, with a terror and
a chill.
Under continent to continent, the sense of
coming ill,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels his
sympathies with God
In hot tear-drops ebbing earthward, to be
drunk up by the sod,
Till a corpse crawls round unburied, delving in
the nobler clod.
For
mankind are one in spirit, and an instinct
bears along,
Round the earth's electric circle, the swift flash
of right or wrong;
Whether conscious or unconscious, yet
Humanity's vast frame
Through its ocean-sundered fibres feels the
gush of joy or shame;--
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have
equal claim.
Once
to every' man and nation comes the
moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the
good or evil side;
Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering
each the bloom or blight
Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the
sheep upon the right
And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that
darkness and that light.
Hast
thou chosen, O my people, on whose
party thou shalt stand,
Ere the Doom from its worn sandals shakes the
dust against our land?
Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 't is
Truth alone is strong,
And, albeit she wander outcast now, I see
around her throng
Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her
from all wrong.
Backward look across the ages and the beacon-
moments see,
That, like peaks of some sunk continent, jut
through Oblivion's sea;
Not an ear in court or market for the low
foreboding cry
Of those Crises, God's stern winnowers, from
whose feet earth's chaff must fly;
Never shows the choice momentous till the
judgment hath passed by.
Careless seems the great Avenger; history's
pages but record
One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old
systems and the Word;
Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever
on the throne,--
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind
the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping
watch above his own.
We
see dimly in the Present what is small and
what is great,
Slow of faith how weak an arm may turn this
iron helm of fate,
But the soul is still oracular; amid the market's
din,
List the ominous stern whisper from the
Delphic cave within,--
"They enslave their children's children who
make compromise with sin."
Slavery, the earth-born Cyclops, fellest of the
giant brood,
Sons of brutish Force and Darkness, who have
drenched the earth with blood,
Famished in his self-made desert, blinded by
our purer day,
Gropes in yet unblasted regions for his
miserable prey;--
Shall we guide his gory fingers where our
helpless children play?
Then
to side with Truth is noble when we
share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 't is
prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave man chooses, while the
coward stands aside,
Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is
crucified,
And the multitude make virtue of the faith they
had denied.
Count
me o'er the earth's chosen heroes,--
they were souls that stood alone,
While the men they agonized for hurled the
contumelious stone,
Stood serene, and down the future saw the
golden beam incline
To the side of perfect justice, mastered by their
faith divine,
By one man's plain truth to manhood and to
God's supreme design.
By
the light of burning heretics Christ's
bleeding feet I track,
Toiling up new Calvaries ever with the cross
that turns not back,
And these mounts of anguish number how each
generation learned
One new word of that grand Credo which in
prophet-hearts hath burned
Since the first man stood God-conquered with
his face to heaven upturned.
For
Humanity sweeps onward: where to-day
the martyr stands,
On the morrow, crouches Judas with the silver
in his hands:
Far in front the cross stands ready and the
crackling fagots burn,
While the hooting mob of yesterday in silent
awe return
To glean up the scattered ashes into History's
golden urn.
"Tis
as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves
Of a legendary virtue carved upon our father's
graves,
Worshippers of light ancestral make the
present light a crime;--
Was the Mayflower launched by cowards,
steered by men behind their time?
Turn those tracks toward Past or Future, that
make Plymouth Rock sublime?
They
were men of present valor, stalwart old
iconoclasts,
Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue
was the Past's;
But we make their truth our falsehood,
thinking that hath made us free,
Hoarding it in mouldy parchments, while our
tender spirits flee
"The rude grasp of that great Impulse which
drove them across the sea.
They
have rights who dare maintain them; we
are traitors to our sires,
Smothering in their holy ashes Freedom's new
lit altar-fires;
Shall we make their creed our jailer? Shall we,
in our haste to slay,
From the tombs of the old prophets steal the
funeral lamps away
To light up the martyr-fagots round the
prophets of to-day?
New
occasions teach new duties; Time makes
ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still, and onward, who
would keep abreast of Truth;
Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we
ourselves must Pilgrims be,
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly
through the desperate winter sea,
Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's
blood-rusted key.
’ |