eam, discountenanced by the truth of the
universe? He might answer, "Let the universe look to it, then! In that
case, I stand upon my dream as the only worthy reality." What were a
mere pot-and-pudding universe to him? Does Mr. Holyoke complain that
these hot idealisms make the culinary kettles of the world boil over?
Kitchen-prudences are good for kitchens; but the sun kindles his great
heart without special regard to them.

These "Voices of Freedom" are no bad reading at the present day. They
are of that strenuous quality, that the light of battle brings to view a
finer print, which lay unseen between the lines. They are themselves
battles, and stir the blood like the blast of a trumpet. What a beat in
them of fiery pulses! What a heat, as of molten metal, or coal-mines
burning underground! What anger! What desire! And yet we have in vain
searched these poems to find one trace of base wrath, or of any
degenerate and selfish passion. He is angry, and sins not. The sun goes
down and again rises upon his wrath; and neither sets nor rises upon
aught freer from meanness and egoism. All the fires of his heart burn
for justice and mercy, for God and humanity; and they who are most
scathed by them _owe_ him no hatred in return, whether they _pay_ him
any or not.

Not a few of these verses seem written for the present day. Take the
following from the poem entitled, "Texas"; they might be deemed a call
for volunteers.

"Up the hill-side, down the glen,
Rouse the sleeping citizen,
Summon forth the might of men!

* * * * *

"Oh! for God and duty stand,
Heart to heart and hand to hand,
Round the old graves of the land.

"Whoso shrinks or falters now,
Whoso to the yoke would bow,--
Brand the craven on his brow!

"Perish party, perish clan!
Strike together, while ye can,
Like the arm of one strong man."

The Administration might have gone to these poems for a policy: he had
fought the battle before them.

"Have they wronged us? Let us, then,
Render back nor threats nor prayers;
Have they chained our freeborn men?
LET US UNCHAIN THEIRS!"

Or look at these concluding stanzas of "The Crisis," which is the last
of the "Voices." Has not our prophet written them for this very day?

"The crisis presses on us; face to face with us it stands,
With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx in Egypt's sands!
This day we fashion Desti