Arms And The Man. - The Oaks And The Tempest.

A poem by James Barron Hope

Oaks multiplied apace, and o'er the seas
Big rumors went in many a winding ring;
And stories fabulous on every breeze
Swept to a distant King.

Full many a tale of wild romance, and myth,
In large hyperbole the New World told,
And down from days of Raleigh and of Smith
The Colonies meant gold.

Not from Banchoonan's mines came forth the ore,
But from the waters, and the woods, and fields,
Paid for in blood, but bringing more and more
The wealth that labor yields.

Then seeing this, that King beyond the sea,
The jus divinum filling all his soul,
Bethought him that he held these lands in fee
And absolute control.

When this high claim in action was displayed
With one accord the young Plantations spoke,
And told him, English-like, they were not made
To plough with such a yoke.

Thus met, not his to falter, or to flag,
A sudden fury seized the Royal breast -
Prometheus bound upon a Scythian crag
His policy expressed.

And, so, he ordered in those stormy hours
His adamantine chains for one and all,
Brute "Force" and soulless "Strength" the only Power
On which he chose to call.

Great men withstood him many a weary day;
In Press and Parliament full well they strove:
But all in vain, for he was bound to play
A travesty on Jove!

Then flamed the crater! And the flame took wing;
Furious and far the lava blazed around,
Until at last, on this same spot that King
His Herculaneum found!

Breed's Hill became Vesuvius, and its stream
Rushed forth through years, a God-directed tide
To light two Worlds and realize the dream
For which brave Warren died.

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