. Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865) . ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND On the beak all reeking red,On the talons blood-bespread! But tis not so much the anguishOf the wound that rends his side, Makes this fettered giant the thought how once, in pride, That great eagle took its stand, Gently on his giant hand! How to it the meat hed carry In its mew to feed secure;How hed fling it on the quarry, How recall it to the lure,Make it stoop, to his caresses,Hooded neck and jingling jesses. An
. Abraham Lincoln and the London Punch; cartoons, comments and poems, published in the London charivari, during the American Civil War (1861-1865) . ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND On the beak all reeking red,On the talons blood-bespread! But tis not so much the anguishOf the wound that rends his side, Makes this fettered giant the thought how once, in pride, That great eagle took its stand, Gently on his giant hand! How to it the meat hed carry In its mew to feed secure;How hed fling it on the quarry, How recall it to the lure,Make it stoop, to his caresses,Hooded neck and jingling jesses. And another thought is pressing,Like hot iron on his brain— Millions that would fain be blessing,Ban, een now, King Cottons name. Oh, that here those hands are bound, Which should scatter wealth around! Not this Eagles screaming smothersThat sad sound across the sea— Wailing babes and weeping mothers,Wailing, weeping, wanting me. Hands that I would fain employ, Hearts that I would fill with joy! THE LONDON PUNCH 39 PCNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—December 14, S=-- <* WAITING FOR AN ANSWER. 40 ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND I must writhe—a giant fettered,—While those millions peak and pine; By my wealth their lot unbettered,And their suffering worse than mine. For they know that I would fain Help their need, weret not my chain! But / know not where to turn meFor relief from bonds and woe; Frosts may pinch and suns may burn me,But for rescue—none I know, Save the millions I have fed, Should they rise for lack of bread— Saying, We will brook no longer,That King Cotton bound should be: Be his gaolers strong, were stronger,In our hunger oer sea— More for want, than love, uprisen, We are come to break his prison! Welcome even such releasing. Fain my work Id be about:Soon would want and wail be ceasing, Were King Cotton once let out—Though all torn and faint and bleeding,Millions still Ive strength for feeding. Then came an episode which did for the momentset John Bull
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