THE

SLAVEHOLDERS’ REBELLION.

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BY DAVID PLUMB.

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FIAT JUSTITIA.

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I

Now the lords of Southern Slavery,—

            Worsted in the Moral fight,

Where the Truth combats with Error,

            And the Wrong contends with Right,—

Saw their hellish institution                                                              [5]

            Going down beneath the blows

Of the sturdy Image Breakers,

            And Oppression’s earnest foes;—

While the Nation, to its centre,

            Was convulsed with moral throes:                                     [10]

II.

Saw their power to wield the Union,

            For corruption and command,

Like the morning cloud departing

            From the Councils of the land:

In the Forum, on the Hustings,—                                                [15]

            They were beaten every where;

Till these vanquished lords of Slavery

            Quit the struggle in despair;—

Left the field of Moral combat

            To the friends of Freedom there.                                     [20]

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III.

Then they raised the cry—“Secession”!

            “Let us tear the Union down;

Let us build a Slave Republic,

            Quite surpassing Rome’s renown;

Let us spread its wide dominions                                                     [25]

            To the noble Rio Grande;

Till the splendor of our triumphs

            Shall eclipse the Northern Land;—

Till the vanquished Yankee Nation

            Stands in awe of our command.”                                           [30]

IV.

So they broke the bond of union,

            They had promised to maintain;

And the Nation’s Starry Banner

            Trampled in their proud disdain;

Flaunted out their flag of Treason,                                                     [35]

            In the madness of their rage;

And with sword, and gun, and cannon,

            Dared accept the Battle’s gage;—

And with marshaled hosts of traitors,

            In the deadly strife engage.                                                       [40]

V.

Now the loud-mouthed cannon thunder,

            Now the screeching bomb-shells fly;

Thick the deadly bullets whistle,

            While the war-clouds shroud the sky:

Still the proud contending forces                                                        [45]

            All their strength with vigor wield;

Each with other still contending,

            Still refuse the ground to yield;—

Till, in dreadful numbers fallen,

            Dead and wounded strow the field.                                          [50]

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VI.

Thus, for years, the rebel forces,

            Often winners in the fight,

Hurled defiance at the Union;

            Vaunted still the traitor right

Of their vile Constitution;                                                                          [55]

            Till the Nation, by its woes,

Learned that freedom for the Bondmen,

            Sealed the doom of Freedom’s foes;—

And that thus, by God’s appointment,

            Could the fearful struggle close.                                                 [60]

VII.

So, we smote the Demon, Slavery,—

            The Rebellion’s end and cause;—

And, anon, approving Heaven

            Smiles, and good men give applause;—

Heaven smiles and grants its blessing                                                      [65]

            On our arms by land and sea;

Till, through all the warring Border,

            Panic-stricken rebels flee;—

While the land, with exultation,

            Hails approaching victory.                                                                [70]

VIII.

Still the Union force advances,

            Wins each bloody battle-field;

While the victory flashes brightly

            On each conquerer’s glittering shield;

And, the broken rebel legions                                                                         [75]

            ‘Neath the victors prostrate lie;

While above, in triumph waving,

            All the Starry Banners fly;

And resounding hallelujas

            Shake the arches of the sky.                                                                  [80]

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IX.

Now Rebellion, in its madness,

            With a mean and coward spite,

Of all honor quite regardless,

            Plays the savage in the fight;

In its triumph gives no quarter,                                                                        [85]

            But its helpless captive slays,

Or, with slow-consuming famine,

            Through the weary nights and days,

Wears away its suffering victim,

            Till for pitying death he prays.                                                               [90]

X.

But, to crown their deeds infernal,

            There remained one bloody crime,

Of such dark and damning nature,

            That the villains of all time

Seldom ventured to enact it;                                                                                  [95]

            But these rebels, in despair

Of success by manly fighting,

            For this highest crime prepare;—

And with soul and conscience hardened,

            Heaven’s swiftest vengeance dare.                                                        [100]

XI.

So foul Treason turns Assassin,

            Steals with silent, stealthy tread,

Into where, in fancied safety,

            Sits the Nation’s honored Head;

And with cool and dread precision,                                                                    [105]

            Swiftly sends the deadly ball;—

And the Nation’s Chief falls lifeless,—

            Falls, but triumphs in the fall;—

While, through all the outraged Nation,

            Trumpet-tongues for justice call:                                                              [110]

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XII.

For the blow of the assassin,

            Lifts the vail from every eye;

Rends the last remaining cover,

            From the traitors’ Giant Lie;

Shows to all the heart of Slavery,                                                                              [115]

            With the fires of Hell aglare,

With its passions, all infernal,

            Which like demons revel there,—

Raging as do mad-men haunted

            By the Specter of Despair.                                                                                [120]

XIII.

Oh! if justice dwells in Heaven,

            Can its hand of vengeance spare

Men so cruel, so inhuman,

            As these murderous rebels are!

And shall man, more kind than Heaven,                                                                  [125]

            Bid these villains go in peace?

Yield the law of retribution,

            And its penalties release?

And, by granting crime a licence,

            Bid the law its function cease?                                                                          [130]

XIV.

Yet were found among us pleaders

            That these criminals might live;

That, instead of rigid justice,

            It were better to forgive:

Thus the plead till the assassin—                                                                                   [135]

            Quite surpassing blackest hell,—

With the dagger and the bullet,

            Broke the Sorceror’s magic spell;—

Made the doom of traitors certain,

            When the Nation’s Chieftain fell.                                                                      [140]

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XV.

Now let Banishment and Gibbet

            Execute a Nation’s will;

And, in awful retribution,

            Their appointed work fulfill;

Let these cruel slave tormentors,—                                                                                [145]

            These who maimed our hapless slain,—

These who starved our captured heroes,—

            These who, both on land and main,

Waged a dastard, pirate warfare,—

            Let them meet the doom of Cain.                                                                         [150]

XVI.

Let these traitors, thieves, assassins,

            Answer at the Bar of State;

Pay to outraged Law the forfeit,

            Life for life,—the murderer’s fate:

And let none mis-judge the action,                                                                                 [155]

            When the awful blow descends;

Charging it to cruel vengeance,

            Prompted for mere selfish ends;

For the righteous God approves it,

            He the penalty commends.                                                                                      [160]

XVII.

Then let Justice, vindicated,

            Be enthroned in every place;

Lift its sacred Shield above us,

            Guard the rights of every race:

So shall Peace through all our Borders                                                                             [165]

            Spread, and Fear no more appall;

Freedom reign in kingly splendor,

            While the Bondmen’s fetters fall;—

While the Land, from Sea to Ocean,

            Spreads its wings to shelter All.                                                                             [170]

New-York, May, 1865.