OLD BROWN.

Old Lion! tangled in the net,
          Baffled and spent, and wounded sore,
          Bound, thou who ne'er knew bonds before,
A captive, but a lion yet.

Death kills not. In a later time,
          (0, slow, but all-accomplishing!)
          Thy shouted name abroad shall ring,
Wherever right makes war sublime.

When in the perfect scheme of God,
          It shall not be a crime for deeds
          To quicken liberating creeds,
And men shall rise wherre slaves have trod;

Then he, the fearless future Man,
          Shall wash the blot and stain away,
          We fix upon thy name today -
Thou hero of the noblest plan.

0, patience, felon of the hour!
          Over thy ghastly gallows-tree
          Shall climb the vine of Liberty,
With ripened fruit and fragrant flower.

                            - Wm. D. Howells.
December, 1859.