lirik lagu david cort - ode - inscribed to w.h. channing
though loath to grieve
the evil time’s sole patriot
i cannot leave
my honied thought
for the priest’s can’t
or statesman’s rant
if i refuse
my study for their politique
which at the best is trick
the angry muse
puts confusion in my brain
but who is he that prates
of the culture of mankind
of better arts and life?
go, blindworm, go
behold the famous states
harrying mexico
with rifle and with knife!
or who, with accent bolder
dare praise the freedom~loving mountaineer?
i found by thee, o rushing contoocook!
and in thy valleys, agiochook!
the jackals of the negro~holdеr
the god who made new hampshirе
taunted the lofty land
with little men; —
small bat and wren
house in the oak: —
if earth~fire cleave
the upheaved land, and bury the folk
the southern crocodile would grieve
virtue palters; right is hence;
freedom praised, but hid;
funeral eloquence
rattles the coffin~lid
what boots thy zeal
o glowing friend
that would indignant rend
the northland from the south?
wherefore? to what good end?
boston bay and bunker hill
would serve things still; —
things are of the snake
the horseman serves the horse
the neat~herd serves the neat
the merchant serves the purse
the eater serves his meat;
‘t is the day of the chattel
web to weave, and corn to grind;
things are in the saddle
and ride mankind
there are two laws discrete
not reconciled,—
law for man, and law for thing;
the last builds town and fleet
but it runs wild
and doth the man unking
‘t is fit the forest fall
the steep be graded
the mountain tunnelled
the sand shaded
the orchard planted
the glebe tilled
the prairie granted
the steamer built
let man serve law for man;
live for friendship, live for love
for truth’s and harmony’s behoof;
the state may follow how it can
as olympus follows jove
yet do not i implore
the wrinkled shopman to my sounding woods
nor bid the unwilling senator
ask votes of thrushes in the solitudes
every one to his chosen work; —
foolish hands may mix and mar;
wise and sure the issues are
round they roll till dark is light
s~x to s~x, and even to odd; —
the over~god
who marries right to might
who peoples, unpeoples, —
he who exterminates
races by stronger races
black by white faces, —
knows to bring honey
out of the lion;
grafts gentlest scion
on pirate and turk
the cossack eats poland
like stolen fruit;
her last n0ble is ruined
her last poet mute;
straight into double band
the victors divide;
half for freedom strike and stand; —
the astonished muse finds thousands at her side
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