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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117603" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Emancipation</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gladness in Mexico! A pealing shout,<br>From franchised men, goes proudly o'er her hills;<br>And the rich hymn is swelling up to Heaven,<br>Bearing the full heart's gratitude. No more<br>The wild bird springing upward from its nest,<br>Or the free waters in their gushing glee,<br>Seem taunting man that they are masterless,<br>While his proud thoughts and swelling pulse are crush'd<br>Beneath vile bonds. No more at eventide,<br>The serf stalks gloomily to seek a home,<br>He scarce can call his own; or goes at dawn<br>Unwillingly to toil:—the heavy spell,<br>That ‘numb'd his veins with leaden sluggishness,<br>Hath lost its power; and now, his glad limbs bound<br>Across the glorious earth, as though they were<br>Nought but an essence. Hear ye not the voice<br>Of his wild carol pour'd upon the air,<br>As like the woodland bird “with folded wing<br>He drops into his nest”—or goes at morn,<br>With light and eager spirit to the toil<br>From which no hand withholds the just reward!<br>Oh, it is sweet to wear a heart, whose throbs<br>Are stifled by no fetters—and an eye<br>That quails not to the mightiest! But the soul<br>Of him whose hand hath wrench'd the bonds of thrall<br>From the sad bosoms that beneath them pined,<br>Hath yet a higher joy!—and there is one,*<br>Whose name the grateful Mexican shall teach<br>His son to lisp, ere yet his infant lip<br>Hath learn'd to murmur, father.<br>But our land!—<br>The curse is on it still!—the slave-fiend stalks<br>Amidst our pleasant valleys and green hills;<br>A tyrant to the tyrants he has made;<br>Muttering fierce threats, and crowding on their hearts<br>Visions and shapes of terror, like the wild<br>And elfish faces that look forth at eve,<br>On wilder'd travellers, ‘midst the cheating shades,<br>And gibe and chatter at the fears they raise.<br>So men go crouching to the demon power,<br>Scarce daring e'en to syllable his name,<br>Lest they should waken up his smother'd rage;<br>And offering human victims at his shrine,<br>Instead of nobly standing forth, like men,<br>To drive him yelling from the glorious earth,<br>That he pollutes and blackens with his tread.<br>Whom call ye slaves? Are not the cravens such,<br>Who dare not act with justice?—Men who prate<br>In sweet smooth sentences, of christian love,<br>And with much sympathy, lament the fate<br>Of those from whose swoll'n limbs they will not strike<br>One single link, in all their weight of chains?<br>Strange! that the high capacities of mind,<br>Should be so blinded by the gleam of gold—<br>Till even the soul itself is valued less,<br>Than “so much trash as may be grasped thus.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(*Guerrero)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117603" data-title="Emancipation de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="Gladness in Mexico! A pealing shout,/From franchised men, goes proudly o'er her hills;/And the rich hymn is swelling up to Heaven,/Bearing the full heart's gratitude. No more/The wild bird springing upward from its nest,/Or the free waters in thei..."></div>
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