AIR--Troubadour.
Feebly the bondman toiled,
Sadly he wept--
Then to his wretched cot
Mournfully crept;
How doth his free-born soul
Pine 'neath his chain!
Slavery! Slavery!
Dark is thy reign.
Long ere the break of day,
Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
Till after its close--
Praying for freedom,
He spends his last breath:
Liberty! Liberty!
Give me or death.
When, when, O Lord! will right
Triumph o'er wrong?
Tyrants oppress the weak,
O Lord! how long?
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
From shore to shore--
Tyranny! Tyranny!
Thy reign is o'er.
E'en now the morning
Gleams from the East--
Despots are feeling
Their triumph is past--
Strong hearts are answering
To freedom's loud call--
Liberty! Liberty!
Full and for all.