If ye do not feel the chain, When it works a brother's pain?

Women! who shall one day bear Sons to breathe G.o.d's bounteous air, If ye hear without a blush, Deeds to make the roused blood rush Like red lava through your veins, For your sisters now in chains; Answer! are ye fit to be Mothers of the brave and free?

Is true freedom but to break Fetters for our own dear sake, And, with leathern hearts forget That we owe mankind a debt?

No! true freedom is to share All the chains our brothers wear, And with hand and heart to be Earnest to make others free.

They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves, who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than, in silence, shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves, who dare not be In the right with _two_ or _three_.

That's my Country.

Does the land, in native might, Pant for Liberty and Right?

Long to cast from human kind Chains of body and of mind-- That's my country, that's the land I can love with heart and hand, O'er her miseries weep and sigh, For her glory live and die.

Does the land her banner wave, Most invitingly, to save; Wooing to her arms of love, Strangers who would freemen prove?

That's the land to which I cling, Of her glories I can sing, On her altar n.o.bly swear Higher still her fame to rear.

Does the land no conquest make, But the war for honor's sake-- Count the greatest triumph won, That which most of good has done-- That's the land approved of G.o.d; That's the land whose stainless sod O'er my sleeping dust shall bloom, n.o.blest land and n.o.blest tomb!

LIBERTY BATTLE-SONG.

From "The Emanc.i.p.ator." Air--"Our Warrior's Heart."

[Music]

Arouse, ye friends of law and right, Arouse, arouse, arouse!

All who in Freedom's cause delight, Arouse, arouse, arouse!

The time, the time, is drawing near, When we must at our posts appear; Then clear the decks for action, clear!

Arouse, arouse, arouse!

Awake, and couch Truth's fatal dart Awake! awake! awake!

Bid error to the shades depart, Awake! awake! awake!

Prepare to deal the deadly blow, To lay the power of Slavery low, A ballot, lads, is our veto; Awake! awake! awake!

Arise! ye sons of honest toil, Arise! arise! arise!

Ye free-born tillers of the soil, Arise! arise! arise!

Come from your workshops and the field, We've sworn to conquer ere we'll yield; The ballot-box is Freedom's shield, Arise! arise! arise!

Unite, and strike for equal laws, Unite! unite! unite!

For equal Justice! that's our cause Unite! unite! unite!

Shall the vile slavites win the day?

Shall men of whips and blood bear sway?

Unite, and dash their chains away, Unite! unite! unite!

March on! and vote the hireling down, March on! march on! march on!

Our blighted land with blessings crown, March on! march on! march on!

Shall Manhood ever wear the chain?

Shall Freedom look to us in vain?

Up to the struggle! Strike again!

March on! march on! march on!

Hurrah! the word pa.s.s down the line, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Birney's and Morris' name shall shine, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Like comets, on their country's page, Without a cloud, undimmed by age, Revered by patriot and by sage; Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Birney and Liberty.

Hurrah! the ball is rolling on, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

In spite of whig or loco don, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Our country still has hopes to rise, The bravest efforts win the prize, Hurrah! &c.

With joy elate our friends appear, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Our vaunting foes are filled with fear, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Ten thousand slaves have run away From Georgia to Canada; Hurrah! &c.

Lo! all the world for Birney now, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

See! as he comes the parties bow, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

No iron mixed with miry clay, Will ever do, the people say, Hurrah! &c.

Then up, ye hearties, one and all!

Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Be faithful to your country's call; Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Let none the vote of freedom shun, Run to the meeting--run, run, run!

Hurrah, &c.

Be Birney's name the one you choose, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

Let not a soul his ballot lose, Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!

No other man in this our day Will ever do, the people say: Hurrah! &c.

THE BALLOT-BOX.

Air--from "Lincoln."

[Music]