Shall Belgium feel, and gallant France, By Vendome's pile and Schoenbrun's wall,

And Poland, gasping on her lance,

The impulse of our cheering call? And shall the SLAVE, beneath our eye, Clank o'er our fields his hateful chain?

And toss his fettered arms on high,
And groan for Freedom's gift, in vain?

O, say, shall Prussia's banner be
A refuge for the stricken slave?
And shall the Russian serf
go free
By Baikal's lake and Neva's wave?
And shall the wintry-bosomed Dane

Relax the iron hand of pride,
And bid his bondmen cast the chain,
From fettered soul and limb, aside?

Shall every flap of England's flag

Proclaim that all around are free, From "farthest Ind" to each blue crag That beetles o'er the Western Sea? And shall we scoff at Europe's kings,

When Freedom's fire is dim with us, And round our country's altar clings The damning shade of Slavery's curse?

let him silence

Winds, clouds, and waters, Never New England's own

Free sons and daughters !
Free as our rivers are
Ocean-ward going,
Free as the breezes are
Over us blowing.

Up to our altars, then,
Haste we, and summon
Courage and loveliness,
Manhood and woman!
Deep let our pledges be:
Freedom forever!
Truce with oppression,
Never, oh! never!
By our own birthright-gift,
Granted of Heaven,
Freedom for heart and lip,
Be the pledge given !

If we have whispered truth,
Whisper no longer;
Speak as the tempest does,
Sterner and stronger;
Still be the tones of truth
Louder and firmer,
Startling the haughty South
With the deep murmur;
God and our charter's right,
Freedom forever!
Truce with oppression,

1836.

Never, oh I never!

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