Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BUTLER'S PROCLAMATION, by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BUTLER'S PROCLAMATION, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ay! Drop the treacherous mask! Throw by
Last Line: Save -- immortality of shame!
Subject(s): American Civil War; Butler, Benjamin Franklin (1818-1893); New Orleans, Battle Of (1862); United States - History; Women


AY! drop the treacherous mask! throw by
The cloak that veiled thine instincts fell,
Stand forth, thou base, incarnate Lie,
Stamped with the signet brand of hell!
At last we view thee as thou art,
A trickster with a demon's heart.

Off with disguise! no quarter now
To rebel honor! thou wouldst strike
Hot blushes up the anguished brow,
And murder Fame and Strength alike.
Beware! ten million hearts aflame
Will burn with hate thou canst not tame!

We know thee now! we know thy race!
Thy dreadful purpose stands revealed
Naked, before the nation's face!
Comrades! let Mercy's font be sealed,
While the black banner courts the wind,
And cursed be he who lags behind!

O soldiers, husbands, brothers, sires!
Think that each stalwart blow ye give
Shall quench the rage of lustful fires,
And bid your glorious women live
Pure from a wrong whose tainted breath
Were fouler than the foulest death.

O soldiers, lovers, Christians, men!
Think that each breeze that floats and dies
O'er the red field, from mount or glen,
Is burdened with a maiden's sighs --
And each false soul that turns to flee,
Consigns his love to infamy!

Think! and strike home! the fabled might
Of Titans were a feeble power
To that with which your arms should smite
In the next awful battle-hour!
And deadlier than the bolts of heaven
Should flash your fury's fatal leven!

No pity! let your thirsty bands
Drink their warm fill at caitiff veins;
Dip deep in blood your wrathful hands,
Nor pause to wipe those crimson stains.
Slay! slay! with ruthless sword and will --
The God of vengeance bids you "kill!"

Yes! but there's one who shall not die
In battle harness! One for whom
Lurks in the darkness silently
Another and a sterner doom!
A warrior's end should crown the brave --
For him, swift cord! and felon grave!

As loathsome, charnel vapors melt,
Swept by invisible winds to naught,
So, may this fiend of lust and guilt
Die like nightmare's hideous thought!
Naught left to mark the mother's name,
Save -- immortality of shame!





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