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human skill; though the geographer may find no place where he can split our country, the strife of hostile ideas will rend it as the valley yawns by the wrench of the earthquake.
4. It is the office of Patriotism to see this and to say it;-to say plainly and solemnly that no political unity, no charter, however wisely penned or however actively defended by the most stalwart mental muscles, can stand before the fierce and equal combat of two mutually aggressive principles. There is no treason, no lack of patriotism, in saying this, unless it is unpatriotic to say that chemical opponents will not combine, and that powder and fire will not marry peaceably. We need the feeling of brotherhood; we need to be knit together in ties of cordial amity; but no amity can be manufactured where the laws of spiritual affinity interpose a bar.
5. The inward, vivifying principle of our government must be SYMPATHY WITH LIBERTY; its attitude must be respect for liberty; the spread of its domain must be under the sanction and for the ends of liberty, or the inspiring sentiment of union and the bond of unity, — that which filled the hearts and quickened the intellects of the noble men who built our Constitution, that which gives glory and renown to our character, will wither and die.
6. "Behold," said David, "how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." But if the time is to come when a large section of our land insist that human bondage is to be sanctioned and extended wherever our banner and our eagles go; that the haggard genius of oppression must sit, with equal privilege and honor, with the spirit of freedom, in the exalted seats of our nation, then (I utter only the simplest lesson of science), then, there can be no unity, for we shall no more be brethren; the gulf of antagonistic ideas will divide us. Then will the nerve of
triotism, in the best souls, be shriveled; for the ideal beauty of our republic will be expunged; its hovering genius will flee; there will be no America to serve; and our glory, whose auroral promise tinges our first annals, and whose beams are now gilding the mountaintops, will be stained with blood.
7. We conclude, then, by saying that patriotism is not only a legitimate sentiment, but a duty. There are countless reasons why, as Americans, we should love our native land. We may feel no scruples, as Christians, in welcoming and nourishing a peculiar affection for its soil, its coasts, and its hills, its memories and its flag. We cannot more efficiently labor for the good of all men, than by pledging heart, brain, and hands to the service of keeping our country true to its mission, obedient to its idea.
8. Our patriotism must draw its nutriment and derive its impulse from the knowledge and love of the ideal America, as yet but partially reflected in our institutions, or in the general mind of the republic. Thus quickened, it will be both pure and practical. The agency of an overruling and friendly Power is suggested by the study of the critical seasons of our past history. But our patriarchal and heroic periods have passed.
9. Having endowed us with the means of our own development, the divine agency retreats to leave the field to human responsibility. We cannot rely, for our honor or safety, upon the past; with the principle we must reject the privileges of primogeniture. We are here by favor, to do a vast and noble work. "To whom much is given, of him will much be required."
10. We may feel, as we look upon our territory, which exhibits every zone, and represents lands that invite all varieties of industry, that God grooved our noble rivers, and stretched our prairies on their level base, and unrolled our rich savannahs, and reared the pomp of our forests, and washed the long line of our
coasts with generous ocean waves, and wove all these diversities into one, to be the home of no mean people, and the theatre of no paltry destiny. The world waits. to see the quality and energy of our patriotism. The book of our country's history, preserved by human heroism and providential care, is handed to us, that we may inscribe there the records of its glory or its shame!
The river Adige (pronounced ad'e-je or ad'ij), in Northern Italy, having suddenly overflowed its banks, the bridge of Verona was carried away, with the exception of the centre arch, on which stood a house, the inmates of which besought help, as the foundations were visibly giving way. Count Spolverini offered a hundred French louis to the person who would rescue the family. The rest of the incident, the truth of which seems to be well established, is told in the following spirited ballad by a German poet.
See in Index, STREW, WRACK, Burger.
Delivery. The poem should be read with generally quick time and pure quality of tone, though, here and there, expressive pauses and an aspirate quality may be appropriate. A lively sense of the scene depicted should be conveyed in the delivery. See remarks, § 54, on the passion of fear.
LOUD let the Brave Man's praises swell
He asks not gold, he asks but song!
The thaw-wind came from the southern sea,
It swept o'er the plain, and it strewed the wood,
The snow-drifts melt, till the mountain calls
On pillars stout, and arches wide,
And midway o'er the foaming flood,
Near and more near the wild waves urge;
And he gazed on the waves in their gathering might. "All-merciful God! to our sins be good!
We are lost! we are lost! The flood! the flood!"
High rolled the waves! In headlong track
Scarce on their base the arches stood !
High heaves the flood-wreck, - block on block
On either side the arches shake.
They totter! they sink 'neath the whelming wave!
Upon the river's farther strand
When shall the Brave Man's praises swell
Ah! name him now, he tarries long;
O speed, for the terrible death draws near!
Quick gallops up, with headlong speed,
And, lo! on high his fingers hold
A purse well stored with shining gold. "Two hundred pistoles' for the man who shall save Yon perishing wretch from the yawning wave!"
Who is the Brave Man, say, my song:
Though, Heaven be praised, right brave he be,
O Brave Man! O Brave Man! arise, appear!
And ever higher swell the waves,
And louder still the storm-wind raves, And lower sink their hearts in fear, O Brave Man! Brave Man! haste, appear ! Buttress and pillar, they groan and strain, And the rocking arches are rent in twain!
Again, again before their eyes,
High holds the Count the glittering prize;