---

James Russell Lowell - Latest Views Of Mr. Biglow
Work rating: Low

Ef I a song or two could make
  Like rockets druv by their own burnin`,
All leap an` light, to leave a wake
  Men`s hearts an` faces skyward turnin`!--
But, it strikes me, `tain`t jest the time
  Fer stringin` words with settisfaction:
Wut`s wanted now`s the silent rhyme
  `Twixt upright Will an` downright Action.

Words, ef you keep `em, pay their keep,
  But gabble`s the short cut to ruin;     
It`s gratis, (gals half-price,) but cheap
  At no rate, ef it henders doin`;
Ther` `s nothin` wuss, `less `tis to set
  A martyr-prem`um upon jawrin`:
Teapots git dangerous, ef you shet
  Their lids down on `em with Fort Warren.

`Bout long enough it`s ben discussed
  Who sot the magazine afire,
An` whether, ef Bob Wickliffe bust,
  `Twould scare us more or blow us higher.     
D` ye spose the Gret Foreseer`s plan
  Wuz settled fer him in town-meetin`?
Or thet ther`d ben no Fall o` Man,
  Ef Adam`d on`y bit a sweetin`?

Oh, Jon`than, ef you want to be
  A rugged chap agin an` hearty,
Go fer wutever`ll hurt Jeff D.,
  Nut wut`ll boost up ary party.
Here`s hell broke loose, an` we lay flat
  With half the univarse a-singe-in`,     
Till Sen`tor This an` Gov`nor Thet
  Stop squabblin` fer the gardingingin.

It`s war we`re in, not politics;
  It`s systems wrastlin` now, not parties;
An` victory in the eend`ll fix
  Where longest will an` truest heart is,
An` wut`s the Guv`ment folks about?
  Tryin` to hope ther` `s nothin` doin`,
An` look ez though they didn`t doubt
  Sunthin` pertickler wuz a-brewin`.     

Ther` `s critters yit thet talk an` act
  Fer wut they call Conciliation;
They`d hand a buff`lo-drove a tract
  When they wuz madder than all Bashan.
Conciliate? it jest means _be kicked_,
  No metter how they phrase an` tone it;
It means thet we`re to set down licked,
  Thet we`re poor shotes an` glad to own it!

A war on tick`s ez dear `z the deuce,
  But it wun`t leave no lastin` traces,     
Ez `twould to make a sneakin` truce
  Without no moral specie-basis:
Ef greenbacks ain`t nut jest the cheese,
  I guess ther` `s evils thet`s extremer,--
Fer instance,--shinplaster idees
  Like them put out by Gov`nor Seymour.

Last year, the Nation, at a word,
  When tremblin` Freedom cried to shield her,
Flamed weldin` into one keen sword
  Waitin` an` longin` fer a wielder:
A splendid flash!--but how`d the grasp     
  With sech a chance ez thet wuz tally?
Ther` warn`t no meanin` in our clasp,--
  Half this, half thet, all shilly-shally.

More men? More man! It`s there we fail;
  Weak plans grow weaker yit by lengthenin`:
Wut use in addin` to the tail,
  When it`s the head`s in need o` strengthenin`?
We wanted one thet felt all Chief
  From roots o` hair to sole o` stockin`,     
Square-sot with thousan`-ton belief
  In him an` us, ef earth went rockin`!

Ole Hick`ry wouldn`t ha` stood see-saw
  `Bout doin` things till they wuz done with,--
He`d smashed the tables o` the Law
  In time o` need to load his gun with;
He couldn`t see but jest one side,--
  Ef his, `twuz God`s, an` thet wuz plenty;
An` so his `_Forrards!_` multiplied
  An army`s fightin` weight by twenty.     

But this `ere histin`, creak, creak, creak,
  Your cappen`s heart up with a derrick,
This tryin` to coax a lightnin`-streak
  Out of a half-discouraged hayrick,
This hangin` on mont` arter mont`
  Fer one sharp purpose `mongst the twitter,--
I tell ye, it doos kind o` stunt
  The peth and sperit of a critter.

In six months where`ll the People be,
  Ef leaders look on revolution      
Ez though it wuz a cup o` tea,--
  Jest social el`ments in solution?
This weighin` things doos wal enough
  When war cools down, an` comes to writin`;
But while it`s makin`, the true stuff
  Is pison-mad, pig-headed fightin`.

Democ`acy gives every man
  The right to be his own oppressor;
But a loose Gov`ment ain`t the plan,
  Helpless ez spilled beans on a dresser:     
I tell ye one thing we might larn
  From them smart critters, the Seceders,--
Ef bein` right`s the fust consarn,
  The `fore-the-fust`s cast-iron leaders.

But `pears to me I see some signs
  Thet we`re a-goin` to use our senses:
Jeff druv us into these hard lines,
  An` ough` to bear his half th` expenses;
Slavery`s Secession`s heart an` will,
  South, North, East, West, where`er you find it,      
An` ef it drors into War`s mill,
  D`ye say them thunder-stones sha`n`t grind it?

D` ye s`pose, ef Jeff giv _him_ a lick,
  Ole Hick`ry`d tried his head to sof`n
So`s `twouldn`t hurt thet ebony stick
 Thet`s made our side see stars so of`n?
`No!` he`d ha` thundered, `on your knees,
  An` own one flag, one road to glory!
Soft-heartedness, in times like these,
  Shows sof`ness in the upper story!`       

An` why should we kick up a muss
  About the Pres`dunt`s proclamation?
It ain`t a-goin` to lib`rate us,
  Ef we don`t like emancipation:
The right to be a cussed fool
  Is safe from all devices human,
It`s common (ez a gin`l rule)
  To every critter born o` woman.

So _we`re_ all right, an` I, fer one,
  Don`t think our cause`ll lose in vally      
By rammin` Scriptur` in our gun,
  An` gittin` Natur` fer an ally:
Thank God, say I, fer even a plan
  To lift one human bein`s level,
Give one more chance to make a man,
  Or, anyhow, to spile a devil!

Not thet I`m one thet much expec`
  Millennium by express to-morrer;
They _will_ miscarry,--I rec`lec`
  Tu many on `em, to my sorrer:
Men ain`t made angels in a day,             
  No matter how you mould an` labor `em,
Nor `riginal ones, I guess, don`t stay
  With Abe so of`n ez with Abraham.

The`ry thinks Fact a pooty thing,
  An` wants the banns read right ensuin`;
But fact wun`t noways wear the ring,
  `Thout years o` settin` up an` wooin`:
Though, arter all, Time`s dial-plate
  Marks cent`ries with the minute-finger,     
An` Good can`t never come tu late,
  Though it does seem to try an` linger.

An` come wut will, I think it`s grand
  Abe`s gut his will et last bloom-furnaced
In trial-flames till it`ll stand
  The strain o` bein` in deadly earnest:
Thet`s wut we want,--we want to know
  The folks on our side hez the bravery
To b`lieve ez hard, come weal, come woe,
  In Freedom ez Jeff doos in Slavery.       

Set the two forces foot to foot,
  An` every man knows who`ll be winner,
Whose faith in God hez ary root
  Thet goes down deeper than his dinner:
_Then_ `twill be felt from pole to pole,
  Without no need o` proclamation,
Earth`s biggest Country`s gut her soul
  An` risen up Earth`s Greatest Nation!
Source
The script ran 0.009 seconds.