Thomas Paine’s Monument.

Thou hast no need of monument of brace,

Or that men pile up granite to the heavens

Lest thy deeds be forgotten, or thy words

Cease to he household memories. For there stands

A monument to thee erect by hate,

Enduring as is time, or love of truth,

And right, and noble deeds. For thy great deeds

Fill all the base with hate, and thy true words —

The inspiration to all noble deeds —

Make heroes of the good, and win their love.

To that cloud-piercing shaft, such adds a stone

Who claims to rule o’er man by right divine;

Or who for favor, wealth, or love of place,

Serves in the ranks that uphold tyrannies,

All who would forge a fetter for a slave,

And drive him to his unrequited toll,

Or fix a brand upon a feeble race

To breed men slaves, like cattle, for the mart,

Or would seal up the eyelids of the mind,

That men may walk in darkness, as of old,

When a blind fate, or ire of gods, made death

The penalty for knowledge. Men have built

Temples and shrines, all decorate with art,

And worshiped one as God, who cares to bring,

Not white-robed Peace, but the avenging sword,

The scourged and crucified, whose mournful cry,

“Oh why, my God, hast thou forsaken me?”

Sound down the ages; yielding up his life

But for his kindred. It was thins to brave

An ignominious death for one who knew

No claim to service or to thy regard,

Save that he was thine enemy,— a king

And the oppressor of his people. Thine

To counsel mercy to the man, but death

To the oppression only, and the claim

To rule by right divine. Thy monument?

It is the love of all the good; thy words

Of wisdom, when the counsellors were dumb;

Of courage, when the spectre of despair

Appalled the bravest. In the tented field

Where, by the campfire, naked peasants’ feet

Or hunger pled more more piteous than words;

Or where the leaders of the host were met

Despondent of the issue, and none dared

Utter the word that trembled on the lips,

Thy voice proclaimed it, and thy eloquent pen

Winged the announcement through all the land.

The starving soldier, by the flickering light

Of the red watch fire, spelled the stirring words,

And every hamlet echoed with the cry,

“The States United, Independent, Free.”

These, also, are thy monuments. But more

Than spires that reach to heaven, or flourishing States

That, with their commerce, whiten all the sear,

It this great lesson that thy life hath taught

“The State is for man, not man for the State;

And all the pomp and circumstance of state

Are but for him, and for his happiness!”

This, thy great truth, is thy best monument.

Simeon Palmer.