Chapter 5
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 nobly 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 God; That's the land whose stainless sod O'er my sleeping dust shall bloom, Noblest land and noblest tomb!
LIBERTY BATTLE-SONG.
From "The Emancipator." 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 pass 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]
Freedom's consecrated dower, Casket of a priceless gem! Nobler heritage of power, Than imperial diadem! Corner-stone, on which was reared, Liberty's triumphal dome, When her glorious form appeared, 'Midst our own Green Mountain home.
Guard it, Freemen! guard it well, Spotless as your maiden's fame! Never let your children tell Of your weakness, of your shame; That their fathers basely sold, What was bought with blood and toil, That you bartered right for gold, Here, on Freedom's sacred soil.
Let your eagle's quenchless eye, Fixed, unerring, sleepless, bright, Watch, when danger hovers nigh, From his lofty mountain height; While the stripes and stars shall wave O'er this treasure, pure and free-- The land's Palladium, it shall save The home and shrine of liberty.
Christian Mother.
BY MISS C.
Christian mother, when thy prayer, Trembles on the twilight air, And thou askest God to keep In their waking and their sleep, Those, whose love is more to thee Than the wealth of land or sea-- Think of those who wildly mourn For the loved ones from them torn.
Christian daughter, sister, wife, Ye who wear a guarded life, Ye, whose bliss hangs not, thank God, On a tyrant's word or nod, Will ye hear, with careless eye, Of the wild, despairing cry, Rising up from human hearts, As their latest bliss departs.
Blest ones, whom no hands on earth, Dare to wrench from home and hearth, Ye, whose hearts are sheltered well, By affection's holy spell; Oh, forget not those for whom Life is nought but changeless gloom! O'er whose days, so woe-begone, Hope may paint no brighter dawn.
THE LIBERTY PARTY.
Words by E. Wright, jr. Tune--"'Tis Dawn, the Lark is Singing."
[Music]
Will ye despise the acorn, Just thrusting out its shoot, Ye giants of the forest, That strike the deepest root? Will ye despise the streamlets Upon the mountain side; Ye broad and mighty rivers, On sweeping to the tide?
Wilt thou despise the crescent, That trembles, newly born, Thou bright and peerless planet, Whose reign shall reach the morn? Time now his scythe is whetting, Ye giant oaks, for you; Ye floods, the sea is thirsting, To drink you like the dew.
That crescent, faint and trembling, Her lamp shall nightly trim, Till thou, imperious planet, Shall in her light grow dim; And so shall wax the Party, Now feeble at its birth, Till Liberty shall cover This tyrant trodden earth.
That party, as we term it, The Party of the Whole-- Has for its firm foundation, The substance of the soul; It groweth out of Reason, The strongest soil below; The smaller is its budding, The more its room to grow!
Then rally to its banners, Supported by the true-- The weakest are the waning, The many are the few: Of what is small, but living, God makes himself the nurse; While "Onward" cry the voices Of all his universe.
Our plant is of the cedar, That knoweth not decay: Its growth shall bless the mountains, Till mountains pass away. God speed the infant party, The party of the whole-- And surely he will do it, While reason is its soul.
BE FREE, O MAN, BE FREE.
Words by Mary H. Maxwell. Music by G.W.C.
[Music]
The storm-winds wildly blowing, The bursting billows mock, As with their foam-crests glowing, They dash the sea-girt rock; Amid the wild commotion, The revel of the sea, A voice is on the ocean, Be free, O man, be free.
Behold the sea-brine leaping High in the murky air; List to the tempest sweeping In chainless fury there. What moves the mighty torrent, And bids it flow abroad? Or turns the rapid current? What, but the voice of God?
Then, answer, is the spirit Less noble or less free? From whom does it inherit The doom of slavery? When man can bind the waters, That they no longer roll, Then let him forge the fetters To clog the human soul.
Till then a voice is stealing From earth and sea, and sky, And to the soul revealing Its immortality. The swift wind chants the numbers Careering o'er the sea, And earth aroused from slumbers, Re-echoes, "Man, be free."
Arouse! Arouse!
Arouse, arouse, arouse! Ye bold New England men! No more with sullen brows, Remain as ye have been: Your country's freedom calls, Once bought by patriots' blood; Rouse, or that freedom falls Beneath the tyrant's rod!
Three million men in chains, Your friendly aid implore; Slight you the piteous strains That from their bosoms pour? Shall it be told in story, Or troll'd in burning song, New England's boasted glory Forgot the bondman's wrong?
Shall freeman's sons be taunted, That freedom's spirit's fled; That what the fathers vaunted, With sordid sons is dead? That they in grovelling gain Have lost their ancient fire, And 'neath the despot's chain, Let liberty expire?
Oh no, your father's bones Would cry out from the ground; Ay, e'en New England's stones Would echo on the sound: Rouse, then, New England men! Rally in freedom's name! In your bosoms once again Light up the sleeping flame!
THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY.
Tune--"Cherokee Death-song."
[Music]
Let the floods clap their hands, Let the mountains rejoice, Let all the glad lands Breathe a jubilant voice; The sun that now sets on the waves of the sea Shall gild with his rising the land of the free.
Let the islands be glad! For their King in his might, Who his glory hath clad With a garment of light, In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid, And in the green waters his pathway hath made.
No more shall the deep, Lend its awe-stricken waves, In their caverns to steep Its wild burden of slaves; The Lord sitteth King--sitteth King on the flood, He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood.
Dispel the blue haze, Golden fountain of morn! With meridian blaze The wide ocean adorn: The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the sea, And day now illumines the land of the free.
THE LITTLE SLAVE GIRL.
Words by a Lady. Air--Morgiana in Ireland.
[Music]
When bright morning lights the hills, Where free children sing most cheerily, My young breast with sorrow fills, While here I plod my way so wearily: Sad my face, more sad my heart, From home, from all I had to part, A loving mother, my sister, my brother, For chains and lash in hopeless misery, Children try it, could you try it; But one day to live in slavery, Children try it, try it, try it; Come, come, give me liberty.
Ere I close my eyes to sleep, Thoughts of home keep coming over me; All alone I wake and weep-- Yet mother hears not--no one pities me-- Never smiling, sick, forlorn, Oh that I had ne'er been born! I should not sorrow to die to-morrow, Then mother earth would kindly shelter me; Children try it, could you try it! Give me freedom, yes, from misery! Children try it, try it, try it! Come, come, give me Liberty!
STOLEN WE WERE.
Words by a Colored Man.
[Music]
Stolen we were from Africa, Transported to America; It's work all day and half the night, And rise before the morning light; Sinner! man! why don't you repent? For the judgment is rolling around! For the judgment is rolling around!
Like the brute beast in public street, Endure the cold and stand the heat; King Jesus told you once before To go your way and sin no more; Sinner! man! &c.
If e'er I reach the Northern shore, I'll ne'er go back, no, never more; I think I hear these ladies say, We'll sing for Freedom night and day; Sinner! man! &c.
Now let us all, yes, every man, Vote for the Slave, for now we can; Break every chain and every yoke, Vote not for Clay nor James K. Polk; Sinner! man! &c.
Come let us go for James G. Birney, Who sells not flesh and blood for money; He is the man you all can see, Who gave his slaves their liberty; Sinner! man! &c.
We hail thee as an honest Man, God made thee on his noblest plan; To stand for freedom in that hour, To thrust a blow at Slavery's power; Sinner! man! &c.
A VISION.[4]
Words by Crary. Music by G.W.C.
[Footnote 4: Scene in the nether world--purporting to be a conversation between the departed ghost of a Southern slaveholding clergyman, and the devil!]
[Music]
At dead of night, when others sleep, Near Hell I took my station; And from that dungeon, dark and deep, O'erheard this conversation: "Hail, Prince of Darkness, ever hail, Adored by each infernal, I come among your gang to wail, And taste of death eternal."
"Where are you from?" the fiend demands, "What makes you look so frantic? Are you from Carolina's strand, Just west of the Atlantic? Are you that man of blood and birth, Devoid of human feeling? The wretch I saw, when last on earth, In human cattle dealing?
"Whose soul, with blood and rapine stain'd, With deeds of crime to dark it; Who drove God's image, starved and chained, To sell like beasts in market? Who tore the infant from the breast, That you might sell its mother? Whose craving mind could never rest, Till you had sold a brother?
"Who gave the sacrament to those Whose chains and handcuffs rattle? Whose backs soon after felt the blows, More heavy than thy cattle?" "I'm from the South," the ghost replies, "And I was there a teacher; Saw men in chains, with laughing eyes: I was a Southern Preacher!
"In tassled pulpits, gay and fine, I strove to please the tyrants, To prove that slavery is divine, And what the Scripture warrants. And when I saw the horrid sight, Of slaves by tortures dying, And told their masters all was right, I knew that I was lying.
"I knew all this, and who can doubt, I felt a sad misgiving? But still, I knew, if I spoke out, That I should lose my living. They made me fat, they paid me well, To preach down abolition, I slept--I died--I woke in Hell, How altered my condition!
"I now am in a sea of fire, Whose fury ever rages; I am a slave, and can't get free, Through everlasting ages. Yes! when the sun and moon shall fade, And fire the rocks dissever, I must sink down beneath the shade, And feel God's wrath for ever."
Our Ghost stood trembling all the while-- He saw the scene transpiring; With soul aghast and visage sad, All hope was now retiring. The Demon cried, on vengeance bent, "I say, in haste, retire! And you shall have a negro sent To attend and punch the fire."
GET OFF THE TRACK.
Words by Jesse Hutchinson. Air, "Dan Tucker."
[Music]
Ho! the car Emancipation Rides majestic thro' our nation, Bearing on its train the story, Liberty! a nation's glory. Roll it along, roll it along, roll it along, thro' the nation, Freedom's car, Emancipation!
Men of various predilections, Frightened, run in all directions; Merchants, editors, physicians, Lawyers, priests, and politicians. Get out of the way! every station! Clear the track of 'mancipation!
Let the ministers and churches Leave behind sectarian lurches; Jump on board the Car of Freedom, Ere it be too late to need them. Sound the alarm! Pulpits thunder! Ere too late you see your blunder!
Politicians gazed, astounded, When, at first, our bell resounded: _Freight trains_ are coming, tell these foxes, With our _votes_ and _ballot boxes_. Jump for your lives! politicians, From your dangerous, false positions.
Railroads to Emancipation Cannot rest on _Clay_ foundation. And the _tracks_ of '_The Polk-itian_' Are but railroads to perdition! Pull up the rails! Emancipation Cannot rest on such foundation.
All true friends of Emancipation, Haste to Freedom's railroad station; Quick into the cars get seated, All is ready and completed.-- Put on the steam! all are crying, And the liberty flags are flying.
On, triumphant see them bearing, Through sectarian rubbish tearing; The bell and whistle and the steaming, Startle thousands from their dreaming. Look out for the cars while the bell rings! Ere the sound your funeral knell rings.
See the people run to meet us; At the depôts thousands greet us; All take seats with exultation, In the Car Emancipation. Huzza! Huzza!! Emancipation Soon will bless our happy nation. Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!!!
EMANCIPATION SONG.
Words from the "Bangor Gazette." Air, "Crambambule."
[Music]
Let waiting throngs now lift their voices, As Freedom's glorious day draws near, While every gentle tongue rejoices, And each bold heart is filled with cheer, The slave has seen the Northern star, He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah! Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!
Though many still are writhing under The cruel whips of "chevaliers," Who mothers from their children sunder, And scourge them for their helpless tears-- Their safe deliv'rance is not far! The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah!
Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest Surrounds the earth as with a pall; Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest, That on thy sight the rays may fall! No doubt let now thy bosom mar: Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah!
Shall we distrust the God of Heaven?-- He every doubt and fear will quell; By him the captive's chains are riven-- So let us loud the chorus swell! Man shall be free from cruel law,-- Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah!
No more again shall it be granted To southern overseers to rule-- No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted With cringing low in slavery's school. So clear the way for Freedom's car-- The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah!
Send up the shout Emancipation-- From heaven let the echoes bound-- Soon will it bless this franchised nation,-- Come raise again the stirring sound? Emancipation near and far-- Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah!
HARBINGER OF LIBERTY.
Words by a Lady. Music by G.W.C.
[Music]
See yon glorious star ascending, Brightly o'er the Southern sea! Truth and peace on earth portending, Herald of a jubilee! Hail it, Freemen! Hail it, Freemen! 'Tis the star of Liberty.
Dim at first--but widely spreading, Soon 'twill burst supremely bright, Life and health and comfort shedding O'er the shades of moral night; Hail it, Bondmen! Slavery cannot bear its light.
Few its rays--'t is but the dawning Of the reign of truth and peace; Joy to slaves--yet sad forewarning, To the tyrants of our race; Tremble, Tyrants! Soon your cruel pow'r will cease.
Earth is brighten'd by the glory Of its mild and peaceful rays; Ransom'd slaves shall tell the story, See its light, and sing its praise; Hail it, Christians! Harbinger of better days.
Light of Truth.
Hark! a voice from heaven proclaiming Comfort to the mourning slave; God has heard him long complaining, And extends his arm to save; Proud Oppression Soon shall find a shameful grave.
See! the light of truth is breaking, Full and clear on ev'ry hand; And the voice of mercy, speaking, Now is heard through all the land; Firm and fearless, See the friends of Freedom stand!
Lo! the nation is arousing From its slumbers, long and deep; And the church of God is waking, Never, never more to sleep, While a bondman, In his chains remains to weep.
Long, too long, have we been dreaming, O'er our country's sin and shame; Let us now, the time redeeming, Press the helpless captive's claim, Till, exulting, He shall cast aside his chain.
ODE TO JAMES G. BIRNEY.
Words by Elizur Wright. Music by G.W.C.
[Music]
We hail thee, Birney, just and true, The calm and fearless, staunch and tried, The bravest of the valiant few, Our country's hope, our country's pride! In Freedom's battle take the van; We hail thee as an honest man.
Thy country, in her darkest hour, When heroes bend at Mammon's shrine, And virtue sells herself to Power, Lights up in smiles at deeds like thine! Then welcome to the battle's van-- We _hail_ thee as an HONEST MAN!
Thy own example leads the way From Egypt's gloom to Canaan's light; Thy justice is the breaking day Of Slavery's long and guilty night; Then welcome to the battle's van-- We hail thee as an honest man.
Thine is the eagle eye to see, And thine a human heart to feel; A worthy leader of the free, We'll trust thee with a Nation's weal; We'll trust thee in the battle's van-- We _hail_ thee as an honest man.
An _honest man_--an _honest man_-- God made thee on his noblest plan, To do the right and brave the scorn; To stand in Freedom's "hope forlorn;" Then welcome to the triumph's van-- WE HAIL THEE AS OUR CHOSEN MAN!
A TRIBUTE TO DEPARTED WORTH.[5]
[Footnote 5: As sung by G.W.C. at the erection of the monument to the memory of Myron Holley, Mount Hope, Rochester. It may be sung as a Dirge.]
[Music]
Oh, it is not the tear at this moment shed, When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him, That can tell how beloved was the soul that's fled, Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him: 'Tis the tear through many a long day wept, Through a life by his loss all shaded, 'Tis the sad remembrance fondly kept, When all other griefs have faded.
Oh! thus shall we mourn, and his memory's light While it shines through our hearts will improve them; For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright, When we think how he lived but to love them. And as buried saints the grave perfume, Where fadeless they've long been lying;-- So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom From the image he left there in dying.
THE LIBERTY VOTER'S SONG.
Words by E. Wright, jr. Air, from "Niel Gow's Farewell."
[Music]
The vote, the vote, the mighty vote, Though once we used a humbler note, And prayed our servants to be just, We tell the now they must, they must.
Chorus.
The tyrant's grapple, by our vote, We'll loosen from our brother's throat, With Washington we here agree, The vote's the weapon of the free.
We'll scatter not the precious power On parties that to slavery cower; But make it one against the wrong, Till down it comes, a million strong. The tyrant's grapple, &c.
We'll bake the dough-face with our vote, Who stood the scorching when we wrote; And paler than the milky way, We'll bake the plastic face of CLAY. The tyrant's grapple, &c.
Our vote shall teach all statesmen law, Who in the Southern harness draw; So well contented to be slaves, They fain would prove their fathers knaves! The tyrant's grapple, &c.
We'll not provoke our wives to use A power that we through fear abuse; His mother shall not blush to own One voter of us for a son. The tyrant's grapple, by our vote, We'll loosen from our brother's throat; With Washington we here agree, Whose MOTHER taught him to be free!
THE LIBERTY BALL.
G.W.C. Air, "Rosin the Bow."
[Music]
Come all ye true friends of the nation, Attend to humanity's call; Come aid the poor slave's liberation, And roll on the liberty ball-- And roll on the liberty ball-- And roll on the liberty ball, Come aid the poor slave's liberation, And roll on the liberty ball.
The Liberty hosts are advancing-- For freedom to _all_ they declare; The down-trodden millions are sighing-- Come, break up our gloom of despair. Come break up our gloom of despair, &c.
Ye Democrats, come to the rescue, And aid on the liberty cause, And millions will rise up and bless you With heart-cheering songs of applause, With heart-cheering songs, &c.
Ye Whigs forsake CLAY and _John Tyler_! And boldly step into our ranks; We'll spread our pure banner still wider, And invite all the friends of the banks,-- And invite all the friends of the banks, &c.
And when we have formed the blest union We'll firmly march on, one and all-- We'll sing when we meet in communion, And _roll on_ the liberty ball, And roll on the liberty ball, &c.
How can you stand halting while virtue Is sweetly appealing to all; Then haste to the standard of duty, And roll on the liberty ball; And roll on the liberty ball, &c.
The question of test is now turning, And freedom or slavery must fall, While hope in the bosom is burning, We'll roll on the liberty ball; We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c.
Ye freemen attend to your voting, Your ballots will answer the call; And while others attend to _log-rolling_, We'll roll on the liberty ball-- We'll roll on the liberty ball, &c.
The Trumpet of Freedom.
HARK! hark! to the TRUMPET of FREEDOM! Her rallying signal she blows: Come, gather around her broad banner, And battle 'gainst Liberty's foes.