Shall Be Free.

"ALL PERSON'S HELD AS SLAVES, within said designated States and parts of States, ARE, AND HENCEFORWARD SHALL BE FREE!"
- Proclamation of Emancipation, Jan. 1st, 1863.


"Shall be free! shall be free!" - lo, the strong winds have caught it,
    And borne it from hill top to hill top afar,
And echo to answering echo has taught it,
    Through the din of the conflict, the thunder of war!
It has flashed like the lightning from ocean to ocean,
    Across the black face of the skies it has blazed,
And strong men have thrilled with unwonted emotion,
    And shouted for joy as they listened and gazed!

"Shall be free! shall be free!" - the poor, manacled "chattel"
    Has caught the sweet word amid fetters and blows;
It has burst on his ear through the tumult of battle,
    Through the shoutings of friends and the cursings of foes;
And lifting his poor, fettered hands up to heaven,
    He has joined in the song that ascended to God;
Or, kneeling in trembling rapture, has given
    Thanksgiving to Him who has broken the rod!

"Shall be free! shall be free!" - there are ears that have listened,
    There are lips that have prayed through long, agonized years,
There are eyes that with hope's fitful radiance have glistened
    Yet, as hope was deferred, have grown heavy with tears
Joy! joy! - thou hast heard it at last, lonely weeper,
    Look up, for the prayer of thy anguish is heard.
Look up, ye bruised spirits, for God is your keeper,
    And the heart of His boundless compassion is stirred.

"Shall be free! shall be free!" - O Humanity, listen
    The Dawn that long since on the pale "Watcher" shone
Now higher, and brighter, and clearer has risen,
    As the Day star rides on toward the glories of noon.
Those words that rang out from the isles of the ocean,
    Sarmatia has echoed from mountain to sea
And America, from her red field of commotion,
    He echoes the same stirring words - "Shall be free!"

Hark! - all the wild air is astir with the tempest!
    The swift lightnings leap in red arrows on high!
Winds shriek to mad winds, and the hoarse thunder answer
    As it ploughs its dread path through the shuddering sky!
There are hisses of serpents, and howlings of demons,
    And moanings of anguish by land and by sea,
But, clearer than angel tones, high o'er the tumult,
    Rings out the glad utterance - "they shall be free!"

And lo! dimly seen, on the crest of the billow
    Lashed white by the storm, undismayed and serene,
Moves that form that once bent o'er the sufferer's pillow,
    And touched the dim eyes till strange glories were seen
And sweetly, to ears that will patiently listen,
    That voice which spake "peace" to turbulent sea,
Now speaks through the roar of the tempest uprisen,
    In tones unmistakable, - "THEY SHALL BE FREE!"

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Sault Ste. Marie

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Assembly Of The Dead.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Lines On The Death Of A Young Mother

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Gone Before

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

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Our Country; - Or, - A Century Of Progress.

Over the waves of the Western sea,
    Led by the hand of Hope she came -
The beautiful Angel of Liberty -
    When the sky was red with the sunset's flame, -
Came to a rocky and surf-beat shore,
    Lone, and wintry, and stern, and wild,
The waves behind her, and wastes before,
    And the Angel of Liberty, pausing, smiled.

"Here, O Sister, shall be our rest!"
    Softly she sang, and the waters shone
While a mellower radiance flushed the west,
    Lingering mountain and vale upon; -
Sweetly the murmurous melody blent
    With flow of rivers and woodland song,
And wandering breezes that singing went,
    Joyously wafted the notes along.

Acadia lifted her mist-wreathed brow,
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Canada

Fair land of peace! - to Britain's rule and throne
Adherent still, yet happier than alone,
And free as happy, and as brave as free,
Proud are thy children - justly proud, of thee!

Thou hast no streams renowned in classic lore,
No vales where fabled heroes moved of yore,
No hills where Poesy enraptured stood,
No mythic fountains, no enchanted wood;
But unadorned, rough, cold, and often stern,
The careless eye to other lands might turn,
And seek, where Nature's bloom is more intense,
Softer delights to charm the eye of sense.

But we who know thee, proudly point the hand
Where thy broad rivers roll serenely grand -
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Thy lordly lakes in solemn grandeur lie, -
Where old Niagara's awful voice has given
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The Worlds Convention Of The Friends Of Emancipation, Held In London In 1840

Yes, let them gather! Summon forth
The pledged philanthropy of Earth.
From every land, whose hills have heard
The bugle blast of Freedom waking;
Or shrieking of her symbol-bird
From out his cloudy eyrie breaking:
Where Justice hath one worshipper,
Or truth one altar built to her;
Where'er a human eye is weeping
O'er wrongs which Earth's sad children know;
Where'er a single heart is keeping
Its prayerful watch with human woe:
Thence let them come, and greet each other,
And know in each a friend and brother!
Yes, let them come! from each green vale
Where England's old baronial halls
Still bear upon their storied walls
The grim crusader's rusted mail,
Battered by Paynim spear and brand
On Malta's rock or Syria's sand.!
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The Freed Islands

A few brief years have passed away
Since Britain drove her million slaves
Beneath the tropic's fiery ray:
God willed their freedom; and to-day
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He spoke! across the Carib Sea,
We heard the clash of breaking chains,
And felt the heart-throb of the free,
The first, strong pulse of liberty
Which thrilled along the bondman's veins.
Though long delayed, and far, and slow,
The Briton's triumph shall be ours:
Wears slavery here a prouder brow
Than that which twelve short years ago
Scowled darkly from her island bowers?
Mighty alike for good or ill
With mother-land, we fully share
The Saxon strength, the nerve of steel,
The tireless energy of will,
The power to do, the pride to dare.
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A Summons

Men of the North-land! where's the manly spirit
Of the true-hearted and the unshackled gone?
Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit
Their names alone?
Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us,
Stoops the strong manhood of our souls so low,
That Mammon's lure or Party's wile can win us
To silence now?
Now, when our land to ruin's brink is verging,
In God's name, let us speak while there is time!
Now, when the padlocks for our lips are forging,
Silence is crime!
What! shall we henceforth humbly ask as favors
Rights all our own? In madness shall we barter,
For treacherous peace, the freedom Nature gave us,
God and our charter?
Here shall the statesman forge his human fetters,
Here the false jurist human rights deny,
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The Sentence Of John L. Brown

Ho! thou who seekest late and long
A License from the Holy Book
For brutal lust and fiendish wrong,
Man of the Pulpit, look!
Lift up those cold and atheist eyes,
This ripe fruit of thy teaching see;
And tell us how to heaven will rise
The incense of this sacrifice
This blossom of the gallows tree!
Search out for slavery's hour of need
Some fitting text of sacred writ;
Give heaven the credit of deed
Which shames the nether pit.
Kneel, smooth blasphemer, unto Him
Whose truth is on thy lips a lie;
Ask that His bright winged cherubim
May bend around that scaffold grim
To guard and bless and sanctify.
O champion of the people's cause!
Suspend thy loud and vain rebuke
Of foreign wrong and Old World's laws,
Man of the Senate, look!
Was t...

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