No more, with glad and happy cheer,
And smiling face, doth Christmas come,
But usher'd in with sword and spear,
And beat of the barbarian drum!
No more, with ivy-circled brow,
And mossy beard all snowy white,
He comes to glad the children now,
With sweet and innocent delight.

II.

The merry dance, the lavish feast,
The cheery welcome, all are o'er:
The music of the viol ceased,
The gleesome ring around the floor.
No glad communion greets the hour,
That welcomes in a Saviour's birth,
And Christmas, to a hostile power,
Yields all the sway that made its mirth.

III.

The Church, like some deserted bride,
In trembling, at the Altar waits,
While, raging fierce on every side,
The foe is thundering at her gates.
No ivy green, nor glittering leaves,
Nor crimson berries, deck her walls:
But blood, red dripping from her eaves,
Along the sacred pavement falls.

IV.

Her silver bells no longer chime
In summons to her sacred home;
Nor holy song at matin prime,
Proclaims the God within the dome.
Nor do the fireside's happy bands
Assemble fond, with greetings dear,
While Patriarch Christmas spreads his hands
To glad with gifts and crown with cheer.

V.

In place of that beloved form,
Benignant, bland, and blessing all,
Comes one begirt with fire and storm,
The raging shell, the hissing ball!
Type of the Prince of Peace, no more,
Evoked by those who bear His name,
THE FIEND, in place of SAINT of yore,
Now hurls around Satanic flame.

VI.

In hate,--evoked by kindred lands,
But late beslavering with caress,
Lo, Moloch, dripping crimson, stands,
And curses where he cannot bless.
He wings the bolt and hurls the spear,
A demon loosed, that rends in rage,
Sends havoc through the homes most dear,
And butchers youth and tramples age!

VII.

With face of Fox--with glee that grins,
And apish arms, with fingers claw'd,
To snatch at all his brother wins,
And straight secrete, with stealth and fraud;--
Lo! Mammon, kindred Demon, comes,
And lurks, as dreading ill, in rear;
He blows the trumpet, beats the drums,
Inflames the torch, and sharps the spear!

VIII.

And furious, following in their train,
What hosts of lesser Demons rise;
Lust, Malice, Hunger, Greed and Gain,
Each raging for its special prize.
Too base for freedom, mean for toil,
And reckless all of just and right,
They rage in peaceful homes for spoil,
And where they cannot butcher, blight.

IX.

A Serpent lie from every mouth,
Coils outward ever,--sworn to bless;
Yet, through the gardens of the South,
Still spreading evils numberless,
By locust swarms the fields are swept,
By frenzied hands the dwelling flames,
And virgin beds, where Beauty slept,
Polluted blush, from worst of shames.

X.

The Dragon, chain'd for thousand years,
Hath burst his bonds and rages free;--
Yet, patience, brethren, stay your fears;--
Loosed for "a little season,"[1] he
Will soon, beneath th' Ithuriel sword,
Of heavenly judgment, crush'd and driven,
Yield to the vengeance of the Lord,
And crouch beneath the wrath of Heaven!

XI.

"A little season," and the Peace,
That now is foremost in your prayers,
Shall crown your harvest with increase,
And bless with smiles the home of tears;
Your wounds be healed; your noble sons,
Unhurt, unmutilated--free--
Shall limber up their conquering guns,
In triumph grand of Liberty!

XII.

A few more hours of mortal strife,--
Of faith and patience, working still,
In struggle for the immortal life,
With all their soul, and strength, and will;
And, in the favor of the Lord,
And powerful grown by heavenly aid,
Your roof trees all shall be restored,
And ye shall triumph in their shade.

[1] "1. And I saw an Angel come down from Heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his hand.

"2. And he laid hold on the Dragon, that Old Serpent, which is the Devil and Satan, and bound him a thousand years.

"And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be fulfilled; and after that he must be loosed a little season."--Rev. xx., v. 1-3.

The Unknown Dead.