id="id00078">What lover of her fame
Feels not his country's shame,
  In this dark hour?
Where are the patriots now,
Of honest heart and brow,
Who scorn the neck to bow
  To Slavery's power?

Sons of the Free! we call
On you, in field and hall,
  To rise as one;
Your heaven-born rights maintain,
Nor let Oppression's chain
On human limbs remain;—
  Speak! and 't is done.

THE SLAVE'S LAMENTATION.

AIR—Long, long ago.

Where are the friends that to me were so dear,
  Long, long ago—long ago!
Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer?
  Long, long ago—long ago!
I am degraded, for man was my foe,
Friends that I loved in the grave are laid low,
All hope of freedom hath fled from me now,
  Long, long ago—long, long ago!

Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head—
  Long, long ago—long ago!
O, how I wept when I found she was dead!
  Long, long ago—long ago!
She was my angel, my love and pride—
Vainly to save her from torture I tried,
Poor broken heart! She rejoiced as she died,
  Long, long ago—long, long ago!

Let me look back on the days of my youth—
  Long, long ago—long ago!
Master withheld from me knowledge and truth—
  Long, long ago—long ago!
Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day,
Sent me from father and mother away—
Forbade me to read, nor allowed me to pray—
  Long, long ago—long, long ago!

FLIGHT OF THE BONDMAN. DEDICATED TO WILLIAM W. BROWN And Sung by the Hutchinsons

BY ELIAS SMITH.

AIR—Silver Moon.

From the crack of the rifle and baying of hound,
  Takes the poor panting bondman his flight;
His couch through the day is the cold damp ground,
  But northward he runs through the night.

Chorus.
O, God speed the flight of the desolate slave,
  Let his heart never yield to despair;
There is room 'mong our hills for the true and the brave,
  Let his lungs breathe our free northern air!

O, sweet to the storm-driven sailor the light,
  Streaming far o'er the dark swelling wave;
But sweeter by far 'mong the lights of the night,
  Is the star of the north to the slave.
O, God speed, &c.

Cold and bleak are our mountains and chilling our winds,
  But warm as the soft southern gales
Be the hands and the hearts which the hunted one finds,
  'Mong our hills and our own winter vales.
O, God speed, &c.

Then list to the 'plaint of the heart-broken thrall,
  Ye blood-hounds, go back to your lair;
May a free northern soil soon give freedom to all,
  Who shall breathe in its pure mountain air.
O, God speed, &c.

THE SWEETS OF LIBERTY.

AIR—Is there a heart, &c.

Is there a man that never sighed
  To set the prisoner free?
Is there a man that never prized
  The sweets of liberty?
Then let him, let him breathe unseen,
  Or in a dungeon live;
Nor never, never know the sweets
  That liberty can give.

Is there a heart so cold in man,
  Can galling fetters crave?
Is there a wretch so truly low,
  Can stoop to be a slave?
O, let him, then, in chains be bound,
  In chains and bondage live;
Nor never, never know the sweets
  That liberty can give.

Is there a breast so chilled in life,
  Can nurse the coward's sigh?
Is there a creature so debased,
  Would not for freedom die?
O, let him then be doomed to crawl
Where only reptiles live;
  Nor never, never know the sweets
That liberty can give.

YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE.

AIR—My Faith looks up to thee.

Ye spirits of the free,
Can ye forever see
  Your brother man
A yoked and scourged slave,
Chains dragging to his grave,
And raise no hand to save?
  Say if you can.

In pride and pomp to roll,
Shall tyrants from the soul
  God's image tear,
And call the wreck their own,—
While, from the eternal throne,
They shut the stifled groan
  And bitter prayer?

Shall he a slave be bound,
Whom God hath doubly crowned
  Creation's lord?
Shall men of Christian name,
Without a blush of shame,
Profess their tyrant claim
  From God's own word?

No! at the battle cry,
A host prepared to die,
  Shall arm for fight—
But not with martial steel,
Grasped with a murderous zeal;
No arms their foes shall feel,
  But love and light.

Firm on Jehovah's laws,
Strong in their righteous cause,
  They march to save.
And vain the tyrant's mail,
Against their battle-hail,
Till cease the woe and wail
  Of tortured slave!

COLONIZATION SONG. TO THE FREE COLORED PEOPLE.

AIR—Spider and the fly.

Will you, will you be colonized?
Will you, will you be colonized?

'Tis a land that with honey
And milk doth abound,
Where the lash is not heard,
And the scourge is not found.
  Chorus, Will you, &c.

If you stay in this land
Where the white man has rule,
You will starve by his hand,
In both body and soul.
  Chorus.

For a nuisance you are,
In this land of your birth,
Held down by his hand,
And crushed to the earth.
  Chorus.

My religion is pure,
And came from above,
But I cannot consent
The black negro to love.
  Chorus.

It is true there is judgment
That hangs o'er the land,
But 't will all turn aside,
When you follow the plan.
  Chorus.

You're ignorant I know,
In this land of your birth,
And religion though pure,
Cannot move the curse.
  Chorus.

But only consent,
Though extorted by force,
What a blessing you'll prove,
On the African coast.
  Chorus.

I AM AN ABOLITIONIST.

AIR—Auld Lang Syne.

I am an Abolitionist!
  I glory in the name:
Though now by Slavery's minions hiss'd
  And covered o'er with shame,
It is a spell of light and power—
  The watchword of the free:—
Who spurns it in the trial-hour,
  A craven soul is he!

I am an Abolitionist!
  Then urge me not to pause;
For joyfully do I enlist
  In FREEDOM'S sacred cause:
A nobler strife the world ne'er saw,
  Th' enslaved to disenthral;
I am a soldier for the war,
  Whatever may befall!

I am an Abolitionist!
  Oppression's deadly foe;
In God's great strength will I resist,
  And lay the monster low;
In God's great name do I