The liberty minstrel

Men! whose boast it is that ye
Come of fathers brave and free;
If there breathe on earth a slave,
Are ye truly free and brave?
Are ye not base slaves indeed,
Men unworthy to be freed?
If ye do not feel the chain,
When it works a brother's pain?

Women! who shall one day bear
Sons to breathe God'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.

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!

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.

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.

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!
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!

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 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.

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."

Ho! the car Emancipation
Rides majestic thro' our nation,
Bearing on its train the story,
Liberty! a nation's glory.
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!!!

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!

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.

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!

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!