For the Times and Seasons

By Miss E. R. Snow.

Minstrel, forgive if once again, But tell me Bard, say should my songs

My re-awaken'd lyre, Be fetter'd with restraint?

Responsive, echoes back the strain The mention of my people's wrongs

Thy friendship's tones inspire., Be called by thee, "complaint?"

For since again we've chanc'd to meet I sing of what oppression's [oppression's] done-

Beneath the muses Bower; I've felt its griping chain;

I'd fain reciprocate thy treat, But like Altnomock's dying son,

And cherish every flower. I'm scorning to complain.

Thou highly favor'd of the muse, Foul persecution's crimson'd tread,

Thou genius of song: May vent its scathing ire,

The virtuous tints thy flowers diffuse, For when it breaks life's brittle thread,

Will radiate lustre[luster], long. It wafts the spirit higher

I know thee not:-but ye I know, But should the saints who've suffered long

Such strains, as grace thy lyre- For truth and righteousness;

Such high toned music, could not flow Sit tamely down beneath their wrongs,

Where thoughts ignoble, fire. Nor seek-nor claim redress?

What tho' an exile?-I rejoice- True, Nature rings-her chime delights-

No longer doom'd to roam, Her smiles are bland and free;

Since I have found in Illinois, But civil and religious rights

A lonely, peaceful home. She does not guarantee:

Here freedom waves her lofty spire- Yet there are laws by heaven ordain'd-

Here is no "iron arm' Laws, to each freeman, dear;

To crush religion's holy fire, And while those laws can be sustain'd,

"Or do the guiltless harm." My people do not fear.

But in Missouri, Freedom's cause Should vice again becloud our skies

Is ting'd with purple woe! With persecution's storm;

And there our country's sacred laws Should not Columbia sons arise

Have been prostrated low And screen the just from harm?

And there the widow's flowing tear- And noble Minstrel wilt thou, then,

The parents sympathy, Defend thy country's laws?

And orphan's moan have strew'd the bier For truth and justice wield thy pen

Of shrouded Liberty! In Freedom's righteous cause?

I'd fain believe, unrighteous acts Ah no! that prompter, I recall

And crimes, recede a race; Lest thy warm heart should find,

But vain the effort! counter facts When shower of hatred on thee fall,

Will stare me in the face! That man has not "grown kind."

Shall stern realities give way But has not truth, a haven fair?-v

To fancy's pleasing wave? The storm thou wilt outride.

Should patriotic phantoms lay If midst the wrath of man, should dare

O'er truth's unsorrow'd grave? To stem corruption's tide.

City of Nauvoo, Aug. 2 th, 1841.