for them, even in
our own day, is well known. During the intense heat of the anti-slavery
conflict he was mobbed once and again by excited crowds; but he was not
to be intimidated by all the powers of evil, and continued to speak his
strong words and to sing his inspiring songs, whether men would hear or
whether they would forbear. And those Voices of Freedom, whatever may be
thought of them by mere critics and litterateurs, will outlast any poems
of their day, and sound "down the ringing grooves of Time" when much
that is now honored has been forgotten. He will be known as the Poet of
a great Cause, the Bard of Freedom, as long as the great anti-slavery
conflict is remembered. He is a part, and an important part, of the
history of his country, a central figure in the battalions of the
brave. Those wild, stirring bugle-calls of his cheered the little army,
and held it together many a time when the cause was only a forlorn hope;
and they came with their stern defiance into the camp of the enemy with
such masterful power that some gallant enemies deserted to his side.
They were afraid to be found fighting against God, as Whittier had
convinced them they were doing. There is the roll of drums and the clash
of spears in these stirring strains; there are echoes from Thermopylae
and Marathon, and the breath of the old Greek heroes is in the air;
there is a hint of the old Border battle-cries from Scotland's hills and
tarns; from Jura's rocky wall we can catch the cheers of Tell; and the
voice of Cromwell can often be distinguished in the strain.

There is also the sweep of the winds through the pine woods, and the
mountain blasts of New England, and the strong fresh breath of the salt
sea; all tonic influences, in short, which braced up the minds of the
men of those days to a fixed and heroic purpose, from which they never
receded until their end was achieved. It has become the fashion in these
days of dilettanteism to say that earnestness and moral purpose have no
place in poetry, and small critics have arisen who claim that Mr.
Whittier has been spoiled as a poet by his moral teachings. To these
critics it is only necessary to point to the estimation in which Mr.
Whittier's poetry is held by the world, and to the daily widening of his
popularity among scholars and men of letters as well as among the
people, to teach them that this ruined poetry is likely to live when all
the merely pretty poetry they so much admire is forgo