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As if she heard upon her air
Once more her Cameronian's prayer
And song

of Freedom float.
And cheering echoes shall reply
From each remote dependency,
Where Britain's mighty sway is known,
In tropic sea or frozen zone;
Where'er her sunset flag is furling,
Or morning gun-fire's smoke is curling;
From Indian Bengal's groves of palm
And

rosy fields and gales of balm,
Where Eastern pomp and power are rolled
Through regal Ava's gates of gold;
And from the lakes and ancient woods
And dim Canadian solitudes,
Whence, sternly from her rocky throne,
Queen of the North, Quebec looks down;
And from those bright and ransomed Isles
Where all unwonted Freedom smiles,
And the dark laborer still retains
The scar of slavery's broken chains !
From the hoar Alps, which sentinel
The gateways of the land of Tell,
Where morning's keen and earliest glance

On Jura's rocky wall is thrown, And from the olive bowers of France

And vine groves garlanding the Rhone, “ Friends of the Blacks," as true and tried As those who stood by Oge's side, And heard the Haytien's tale of wrong, Shall gather at that summons strongBroglie, Passy, and him whose song Breathed over Syria's holy sod, And in the paths which Jesus trod, And murmured midst the hills which hem Crownless and sad Jerusalem, Hath echoes wheresoe'er the tone Of Israel's prophet-lyre is known.

Still let them come—from Quito's walls,

And from the Oronoco's tide,
From Lima’s Inca-haunted halls,
From Santa Fe and Yucatan, -

Men who by swart Guerrero's side
Proclaimed the deathless RIGHTS OF MAN,
Broke every bond and fetter off,

And hailed in every sable serf
A free and brother Mexican !
Chiefs who across the Andes' chain

Have followed Freedom's flowing pennon,
And seen on Junin's fearful plain,
Glare o'er the broken ranks of Spain,

The fire-burst of Bolivar's cannon !
And Hayti, from her mountain land,

Shall send the sons of those who hurled
Defiance from her blazing strand-
The war-gage

from her Petion's band,
Alone against a hostile world.
Nor all unmindful, thou, the while,
Land of the dark and mystic Nile:-

Thy Moslem mercy yet may shame
All tyrants of a Christian name—
When in the shade of Gezen's pile,
Or, where from Abyssinian hills
El Gerek's upper fountain fills,
Or where from mountains of the Moon
El Abiad bears his watery boon,
Where'er thy lotus blossoms swim

Within their ancient hallowed waters--
Where'er is heard the Coptic hymn,
Or

song of Nubia’s sable daughters,
The curse of SLAVERY and the crime,
Thy bequest from remotest time,
At thy dark Mehemet's decree
For evermore shall pass

from thee;
And chains forsake each captive's limb
Of all those tribes, whose hills around

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Have echoed back the cymbal sound

And victor horn of Ibrahim.

And thou whose glory and whose crime
To earth's remotest bound and clime,
In mingled tones of awe and scorn,
The echoes of a world have borne,
My country! glorious at thy birth,
A day-star flashing brightly forth-

The herald-sign of Freedom's dawn !
Oh! who could dream that saw thee then,

And watched thy rising from afar, That vapors from oppression's fen

Would cloud the upward tending star? Or, that earth's tyrant powers, which heard,

Awe-struck, the shout which hailed thy dawning, Would rise so soon, prince, peer,

and king, To mock thee with their welcoming, Like Hades when her thrones were stirred

To greet the down-cast Star of Morning! “Aha! and art thou fallen thus ? Art THOU become as one of us?

Land of my fathers !-there will stand,
Amidst that world-assembled band,
Those owning thy maternal claim
Unweakened by thy crime and shame, -
The sad reprovers of thy wrong-
The children thou hast spurned so long.
Still with affection's fondest yearning
To their unnatural mother turning.
No traitors they !--but tried and leal,
Whose own is but thy general weal,
Still blending with the patriot's zeal
The Christian's love for human kind,
To caste and climate unconfined.

A holy gathering !-peaceful all-
No threat of war-no savage call

For vengeance on an erring brother;
But in their stead the God-like plan
To teach the brotherhood of man

To love and reverence one another,
As sharers of a common blood-
The children of a common God -
Yet, even at its lightest word,
Shall Slavery's darkest depths be stirred:
Spain watching from her Moro's keep
Her slave-ships traversing the deep,
And Rio, in her strength and pride,
Lifting, along her mountain side,
Her
snowy

battlements and towersHer lemon groves and tropic bowers, With bitter hate and sullen fear Its freedom-giving voice shall hear; And where my country's flag is flowing, On breezes from Mount Vernon blowing

Above the Nation's council halls, Where Freedom's praise is loud and long,

While, close beneath the outward walls The driver plies his reeking thong

The hammer of the man-thief falls, O’er hypocritic cheek and brow The crimson flush of shame shall glow: And all who for their native land Are pledging life and heart and handWorn watchers o'er her changing weal, Who for her tarnished honor feel — Through cottage-door and council-hall Shall thunder an awakening call. The

pen along its page shall burn With all intolerable scornAn eloquent rebuke shall go On all the winds that Southward blow From priestly lips, now sealed and dumb, Warning and dread appeal shall come, Like those which Israel heard from him, The Prophet of the Cherubim

Or those which sad Esaias hurled
Against a sin-accursed world !
Its wizard-leaves the Press shall fling
Unceasing from its iron wing,
With characters inscribed thereon,

As fearful in the despot's hall
As to the pomp of Babylon

The fire-sign on the palace wall !
And, from her dark iniquities,
Methinks I see my country rise :
Not challenging the nations round

To note her tardy justice done-
Her captives from their chains unbound,

Her prisons opening to the sun :-
But tearfully her arms extending
Over the poor and unoffending ;

Her regal emblem now no longer A bird of prey, with talons reeking, Above the dying captive shrieking, But, spreading out her ample wingA broad, impartial covering

The weaker sheltered by the stronger! Oh! then to Faith's anointed eyes

The promised token shall be given ; And on a nation's sacrifice,

Atoning for the sin of years, And wet with penitential tears-The fire shall fall from Heaven !

1839.

NEW HAMPSHIRE.

1845.

God bless New Hampshire !—from her granite

peaks Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks

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