Air, "Bonnie Doon," page 54.
Dread sovereign, thou! the chainless WILL--
Thy source the nation's mighty heart--
The ballot box thy cradle still--
Thou speak'st, and nineteen millions start;
Thy subjects, sons of noble sires;
Descendants of a patriot band--
Thy lights a million's household fires--
Thy daily walk, my native land.
And shall the safeguard of the free,
By valor won on gory plains,
Become a solemn mockery
While freemen breathe and virtue reigns?
Shall liberty be bought and sold
By guilty creatures clothed with power?
Is HONOR but a name for GOLD,
And PRINCIPLE A WITHERED FLOWER?
The parricide's accursed steel
Has pierced thy sacred sovereignty;
And all who think, and all who feel,
Must act or never more be free.
No party chains shall bind us here;
No mighty name shall turn the blow:
Then, wounded sovereignty, appear,
And lay the base apostates low.
The wretch, with hands by murder red,
May hope for mercy at the last;
And he who steals a nation's bread,
May have oblivion's statute passed.
But he who steals a sacred right,
And brings his native land to scorn,
Shall die a traitor in her sight,
With none to pity or to mourn.
The Spirit of the Pilgrims.
Tune, "Be free, Oh man, be free," page 134.
The spirit of the Pilgrims
Is spreading o'er the earth,
And millions now point to the land
Where Freedom had her birth:
Hark! Hear ye not the earnest cry
That peals o'er every wave?
"God above,
In thy love,
O liberate the slave!"
Ye heard of trampled Poland,
And of her sons in chains,
And noble thoughts flashed through your minds
And fire flowed through your veins.
Then wherefore hear ye not the cry
That breaks o'er land and sea?--
"On each plain,
Rend the chain,
And set the captive free!"
Oh, think ye that our fathers,
(That noble patriot band,)
Could now look down with kindling joy,
And smile upon the land?
Or would a trumpet-tone go forth,
And ring from shore to shore;--
"All who stand,
In this land,
Shall be free for evermore!"
Great God, inspire thy children,
And make thy creatures just,
That every galling chain may fall,
And crumble into dust:
That not one soul throughout the land
Our fathers died to save,
May again,
By fellow-men,
Be branded as a Slave!
What Mean Ye?