The Anti-Slavery Harp Part 7

Ours is not the tented field-- We no earthly weapons wield-- Light and love, our sword and shield, Truth our panoply.

This is proud oppression's hour; Storms are round us; shall we cower?

While beneath a despot's power Groans the suffering slave?

While on every southern gale, Comes the helpless captive's tale, And the voice of woman's wail, And of man's despair?

While our homes and rights are dear, Guarded still with watchful fear, Shall we coldly turn our ear From the suppliant's prayer?

Never! by our Country's shame-- Never! by a Saviour's claim, To the men of every name, Whom he died to save.

Onward, then, ye fearless band-- Heart to heart, and hand to hand; Yours shall be the patriot's stand, Or the martyr's grave.

THE MAN FOR ME.

AIR--The Rose that all are praising.

O, he is not the man for me, Who buys or sells a slave, Nor he who will not set him free, But sends him to his grave; But he whose n.o.ble heart beats warm For all men's life and liberty; Who loves alike each human form, O, that's the man for me.

He's not at all the man for me, Who sells a man for gain, Who bends the pliant servile knee, To Slavery's G.o.d of shame!

But he whose G.o.d-like form erect Proclaims that all alike are free To think, and speak, and vote, and act, O, that's the man for me.

He sure is not the man for me Whose spirit will succ.u.mb, When men endowed with Liberty Lie bleeding, bound and dumb; But he whose faithful words of might Ring through the land from sh.o.r.e to sea, For man's eternal equal right, O, that's the man for me.

No, no, he's not the man for me Whose voice o'er hill and plain, Breaks forth for glorious liberty, But binds himself, the chain!

The mightiest of the n.o.ble band Who prays and toils the world to free, With head, and heart, and voice, and vote, O, that's the man for me.

THE BONDMAN.

AIR--Troubadour.

Feebly the bondman toiled, Sadly he wept-- Then to his wretched cot Mournfully crept; How doth his free-born soul Pine 'neath his chain!

Slavery! Slavery!

Dark is thy reign.

Long ere the break of day, Roused from repose, Wearily toiling Till after its close-- Praying for freedom, He spends his last breath: Liberty! Liberty!

Give me or death.

When, when, O Lord! will right Triumph o'er wrong?

Tyrants oppress the weak, O Lord! how long?

Hark! hark! a peal resounds From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e-- Tyranny! Tyranny!

Thy reign is o'er.

E'en now the morning Gleams from the East-- Despots are feeling Their triumph is past-- Strong hearts are answering To freedom's loud call-- Liberty! Liberty!

Full and for all.

RIGHT ON.

AIR--Lenox.

Ho! children of the brave, Ho! freemen of the land, That hurl'd into the grave Oppression's b.l.o.o.d.y band; Come on, come on, and joined be we To make the fettered bondman free.

Let coward va.s.sals sneak From freedom's battle still, Poltroons that dare not speak But as their priests may will; Come on, come on, and joined be we To make the fettered bondman free.

On parchment, scroll and creed, With human life blood red, Untrembling at the deed, Plant firm your manly tread; The priest may howl, the jurist rave, But we will free the fettered slave.

The tyrant's scorn is vain, In vain the slanderer's breath, We'll rush to break the chain, E'en on the jaws of death; Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we, The fettered slave shall yet be free.

Right on, in freedom's name, And in the strength of G.o.d, Wipe out the d.a.m.ning stain, And break the oppressor's rod; Hurrah! Hurrah! right on go we, The fettered slave shall yet be free.

FUGITIVE'S TRIUMPH.

Go, go, thou that enslav'st me, Now, now thy power is o'er; Long, long have I obeyed thee, I'm not a slave any more; No, no--oh, no!

I'm a _free man_ ever more!

Thou, thou brought'st me ever, Deep, deep sorrow and pain; But I have left thee forever, Nor will I serve thee again; No, no--oh, no!

No, I'll not serve thee again.

Tyrant! thou hast bereft me Home, friends, pleasures so sweet; Now, forever I've left thee, Thou and I never shall meet; No, no--oh, no!

Thou and I never shall meet.

Joys, joys, bright as the morning, Now, now, on me will pour, Hope, hope, on me is dawning, _I'm not a slave any more!_ No, no--oh, no, I'm a FREE MAN evermore!

A SONG FOR FREEDOM.

AIR--Dandy Jim.

Come all ye bondmen far and near, Let's put a song in ma.s.sa's ear, It is a song for our poor race, Who're whipped and trampled with disgrace.

Chorus.

My old ma.s.sa tells me O This is a land of freedom O; Let's look about and see if't is so, Just as ma.s.sa tells me O.

He tells us of that glorious one, I think his name was Washington, How he did fight for liberty, To save a threepence tax on tea.

Chorus.

My old ma.s.sa, &c.