JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. THIS true poet of freedom and humanity, known and loved in both hemispheres, is of a Quaker family, and was born near Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1808. Until he was eighteen years of age, he remained at home, passing his time in the district school, in assisting his father on the farm, and writing occasional verses for the "Haverhill Gazette." After spending two years in the Academy at Haverhill, he went to Boston in 1828, and became editor of the "American Manufacturer," a newspaper devoted to the interest of a protective tariff. In 1830, he became editor of the "New England Weekly Review," published at Hartford, and remained connected with it for about two years; during which period he published a volume of poems and prose sketches, entitled Legends of New England. He then returned home, and soon after was elected by the town of Haverhill a representative to the Legislature of his native State. In 1836, he was elected Secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society, and defended its principles as editor of the "Pennsylvania Freeman," a weekly paper published in Philadelphia. About this time appeared his longest poem, Mogg Megone, an Indian story, which takes its name from a leader among the Saco Indians in the bloody war of 1677. In 1840, Mr. Whittier removed to Amesbury, Massachusetts, where all his later publications have been written. In 1845 appeared The Stranger in Lowell, a series of sketches of scenery and character such as that famed manufacturing town might naturally suggest. In 1847, he became corresponding editor of the "National Era," published at Washington, and gave to that paper no small share of its deserved celebrity. The next year, a beautifully-illustrated edition of all his poems, including his Voices of Freedom, was published by Mussey, of Boston. In 1849 appeared his Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal, written in the antique style by the fictitious fair journalist, who visits New England in 1678, and writes letters to a gentleman in England, to whom she is to be married, descriptive of the manners and influences of the times. In 1850 appeared his volume Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, a series of prose essays on Bunyan, Baxter, &c.; and, in the same year, Songs of Labor, and other Poems, in which he dignifies and renders interesting the mechanic arts by the associations of history and faney. Since that time he has published Lays of Home, and The Chapel of the Hermits, and other Poems; while he frequently enriches the columns of the "National Era" with some felicitous prose essay, or some soul-stirring poem. Since the establishment of the "Atlantic Monthly" he has contributed to almost every number. Though boldness, energy, and strength are Whittier's leading characteristics, and though many of his poems breathe, in soul-stirring language, a defiant tone to the oppressor, and show a hatred of slavery as intense, if possible, as it deserves, yet many of his prose works and poems are marked by a tenderness, a grace, and a beauty not exceeded by those of any other American writer. He thus unites qualities seemingly opposite in a heart every pulsation of which beats warmly for humanity. PALESTINE. Blest land of Judea! thrice hallow'd of song, With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, Lo, Bethlehem's hill-side before me is seen, And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw I tread where the TWELVE in their wayfaring trod; I stand where they stood with the CHOSEN of GOD,- Oh, here with His flock the sad Wanderer came,- And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet, But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode Were my spirit but turned from the outward and dim, Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea, And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Yet, Loved of the Father, Thy Spirit is near Oh, the outward hath gone!-but, in glory and power, On the heart's secret altar is burning the same! CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. [In the Report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, South Carolina, on the 4th of 9th month, 1835, published in the "Courier" of that city, it is stated,— The CLERGY of all denominations attended in a body, LENDING THEIR SANCTION TO THE PROCEEDINGS, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene.”] Just God! and these are they Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay What! preach, and kidnap men? Give thanks, and rob Thy own afflicted poor? What! servants of Thy own Merciful Son, who came to seek and save Pilot and Herod, friends! Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! Paid hypocrites, who turn Of those high words of truth which search and burn Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! And, in your tassell'd pulpits, thank the Lord How long, O Lord! how long Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, Is not Thy hand stretch'd forth Woe, then, to all who grind Their brethren of a common Father down! Woe to the priesthood! woe To those whose hire is with the price of blood, Perverting, darkening, changing as they go, Their glory and their might Shall perish; and their very names shall be Oh! speed the moment on When Wrong shall cease,-and Liberty and Love, ICHABOD !! So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn The glory from his gray hairs gone Revile him not,-the Tempter hath And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Oh! dumb be passion's stormy rage, Have lighted up and led his age Scorn! would the angels laugh to mark Let not the land, once proud of him, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim But let its humbled sons, instead, A long lament, as for the dead, Of all we loved and honor'd, nought A fallen angel's pride of thought All else is gone; from those great eyes When faith is lost, when honor dies, These lines, so full of tender regret, deep grief, and touching pathos, were written when the news came of the sad course of Daniel Webster in supporting the Compromise Measures," including the "Fugitive Slave Law," in his speech delivered in the United States Senate, on the 7th of March, 1850. Then pay the reverence of old days Walk backward with averted gaze, MAUD MULLER. Maud Muller, on a summer's day, But, when she glanced to the far-off town, Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid; And ask'd a draught from the spring that flow'd She stoop'd where the cool spring bubbled up, And blush'd as she gave it, looking down "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaff'd." He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees Then talk'd of the haying, and wonder'd whether And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And listen'd, while a pleased surprise At last, like one who for delay Maud Muller look'd and sigh'd: "Ah me! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, |