Our fathers fought for liberty,

They bled and died, and now shall we
Deny to others what they gave

To us, their children, from the grave?
Can we still cherish Slavery,

And call our country still, "The Free?"

Then, onward! patriots, poll-ward, on!
Till your glorious cause be won,
On! for right and liberty,
On! for just equality,

On! and let the watchword be,
"Lincoln! Hamlin ! Victory!"

THE GRAND RALLY.

FROM hilltop, from valley, from mountain, from plain, Come, Freemen, assemble, assemble;

The glad shout of Freedom send forth like a flame, At its sound shall fell Tyranny tremble.

From woodland and heather,

Come gather, come gather,

And unfurl the bright flag of Freedom forever. 'Tis the province of thee,

Being sons of the Free,

To combat with tyrants, 'tis Freedom's decree !

From the forge, from the mines, from the anvil we call

Working-men, sons of toil! 'tis thy right

To combat with those who would labor enthrall,
And be foremost of all in the fight;

From workshops and fields,

Come, Labor, reveal

Honest faces which oil, smoke, and dust can't conceal, Make every sledge that you sling

On the firm anvil ring

The bold song of Freedom that Labor is King.

For Liberty, "Lincoln," for "Hamlin," our cause,
And a free public domain, we fight;

A free Constitution, correct honest Laws,
Elevation of labor and right,

We swear in our might,

On this spot to unite,

For "Free Soil" in our natures we love it
The "Territories" shall be

As unpledged and free

As the eagle that hovers above it.

TO THE VOTERS OF 1860.

THERE's a band of soulless traitors

Who Freedom would enchain,
Who would sell their country's honor
For selfish power and gain.

With the chains they are forging daily,

They vow to circle your land;
With the darkest and deepest of curses

Your children's home they brand.

Shall the sons of the Pilgrim Fathers
Bow low at the tyrant's nod?

Shall they traitors prove to their noble trust,
To Freedom and to God?

Shall America lose her glory

And be but a land of slaves?

Will ye blush when ye own your country? Go, view your fathers' graves!

Ye are brave, and your proud hearts never
Could brook the captive's chain :

Will ye help them to bind another
To the soul-rack and the pain?

Will ye barter the birthright given,
And sell your souls for gold?
Will ye prove your hearts are darker
Than the brow of him that's sold?

Hark! the voices of freemen answer-
Their cheer breaks over the plain,
And the waves of the Kansas bear it,
The prairies smile again.

They have sternly unfurled their banners,

And bravely bear them on;

And the East and the West are waiting
To shout "The victory's won!"

May the God of our fathers help you
To battle for the right,

Lest our stars should lose their glory-
Our sun go down in night.

FOR FREEDOM AND REFORM.

Ho! ye men of every station,
Join with us for Reformation,

And for Freedom for the Nation

We're for Freedom and Reform.

We're a band of freemen,

We're a band of freemen,

We're a band of freemen,

We're for Freedom aud Reform.

On the "sacred side" forever,
We'll sustain " oppression❞ never,
But we'll fight for "justice" ever-
We're for Freedom and Reform.

We'll dry up disunion screechers,
And wipe out the slave-code teachers,
And cashier the slave-trade preachers-
We're for Freedom and Reform.

We will oust the treasury robbers,
And the host of hireling fobbers,
And the horde of "live-oak jobbers-
We're for Freedom and Reform.

With "Old Abe" to go before us,
And the flag of Freedom o'er us,
We will shout the sounding chorus-
We're for Freedom and Reform.

JORDAN.

BY J. J. H.

I LOOKED to the South, and I looked to the West,
And I saw old Slavery a comin',

With four Northern doughfaces hitched up in front,
Driving Freedom to the other side of Jordan.

Then take off coats, boys, roll up sleeves,
Slavery is a hard foe to battle, I believe.

Slavery and Freedom, they both had a fight,
And the whole North came up behind 'em,
Hit Slavery a few knocks, with a free ballot box,
Sent it staggering to the other side of Jordan.
Take off, etc.

If I was the Legislature of these United States,
I'd settle this great question accordin';
I'd let every slave go free, over land and on the sea,
Let 'em have a little hope this side of Jordan.

Then rouse up, ye freeman, the sword unsheath;
Freedom is the best road to travel, I believe.

The South have their school, where the masters learn to rule,

[grit,

And they lord it o'er the Free States accordin'; But sure they'd better quit, ere they rouse the Yankee And we tumble 'em over t'other side of Jordan.

Take off, etc.

Pennsylvania and Vermont have surely come to want,
To raise such scamps as Buck and Stephen,