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Show 180 THE 1\[0I\TIILY OFFERING. Are these the graves they slumber in? Are we the sons by whom are borne The mantles which the dead have worn 1 And shall we crouch above these graves, With craven soul and fetter'd lip 7 Yol(e in with mark'd and branded sLAVES, And tremble at the driver's whip 7 Bend to the earth our pliant knees, And speak-but as our masters please 1 Shall outraged Nature cease to feel? Shall Mercy's tears no longer flow 1 Shall ruffian threats of cord and steel- The dungeon'; gloom-th' assassin's blow, Turn back the spirit roused to save The Truth-our Country-and the Slave? Of human sku 11s that shrine was made, Round wh;ch the priests of Mexico Before their loathso!Tle idol pray'd- Is Freedom's altar fashion'd so 1 And must we yield to Freedom's God, As offering meet, the negro's blood 1 Shall tongues be mute, wheR deeds are wrought Which well might shame extremes! Hell? Shnll freemen lock th' indignant thought 7 Shall Mercy's bosom cease to swell? Shall Honor bleed ?-Shall Truth succumb 1 Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb 7 No-by each spot of haunted ground, Where Freedom weeps her children's fa11- By Plymouth's rock-and Bunker's moundBy Griswold's stain'd and shatter'd wallBy Warren's ghost-by Langdon's shadeBy all the memories of our dead ! STANZAS. By their enlarging souls, which burst The bands and fetters round them setBy the FREE PILGRIM SPIRIT nursed Within our inmost bosoms, yet,By all above-around-below- Be ours th' indignant answer-NO! No-guided by our country's laws, For truth, and right, and suffering man, Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause, As Christmns may-as freemen can! Still pouring on unwilling ears That truth oppression only fears. What I shall we guard our neighbor still, While woman shrieks beneath his rod, And while he tramples down at will The image of a common God ! Shall watch and ward be round him set, Of Northern nene and bayonet 7 181 And shall we know and share with him The danger and the open shame 1 And see our Freedom's light grow dim, Which should have fill'd the world with flame 7 And, writhing, feel where'er we turn, A world's reproach around us burn 1 Is't not enough that this is borne 7 And asks our haughty neighbor more ? Must fetters which his slaves have worn, Clank round the Yankee farmer's door! Must he be told, beside his plough, What he must speak, and when and how? Must he be told his freedom stands On Slavery's dark foundation strongOn breal<ing hearts and fetter'd hands, On robbery, and crime, and wrong 1 |