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And the curse of unpaid toil,
Our bleak hills shall bud and blow,
And when vengeance clouds your skies,
We but ask our rocky strand,
Valleys by the slave untrod,
+ TO FANEUIL HALL.
(WRITTEN in 1844, on reading a call by "a Massachusetts Freeman” for a meeting in Faneuil Hall of the citizens of Massachusetts, without distinction of party, opposed to the annexation of Texas, and the aggressions of South Carolina, and in favor of decisive action against Slavery.]
MEN ! — if manhood still ye claim,
If the Northern pulse can thrill,
Freely, strongly still :-
Shut the mill-gate — leave the stall -
Throng to Faneuil Hall !
Wrongs which freemen never brooked —
Dangers grim and fierce as they,
On your fathers' way ;-
Shaking with their earthquake-call
From your capes and sandy bars —
From your mountain-ridges cold,
Stoop their crowns of gold —
Echoes from that holy wall :
Rock your fathers' hall !
Up, and tread beneath your feet
Every cord by party spun ;
As the heart of one.
Let them rise or let them fall :
Up, to Faneuil Hall !
Up, and let each voice that speaks
Ring from thence to Southern plains,
Prison-bolts and chains !
Dreaded more than steel or ball,
Heard from Faneuil Hall !
Have they wronged us ? Let us then
Render back nor threats nor prayers ; Have they chained our free-born men ?
LET US UNCHAIN THEIRS !
Up! your banner leads the van,
Blazoned “ Liberty for all !”
Up, to Faneuil Hall !
WRITTEN DURING THE PENDING OF THE TEXAS QUESTION.
What though around thee blazes
No fiery rallying sign ?
Give heaven the light of thine !
The statesman stands apart,
From Mammon's crowded mart ?
. Still let the land be shaken
By a summons of thine own!
Why, stand with that alone!
With the best is always hope ;
God holds the right side up !
But when, with thine uniting,
Come voices long and loud,
Thy fire-words on the cloud :
A deep response is heard,
Rolls back thy rallying word ;
Shall thy line of battle falter,
With its allies just in view ? Oh, by hearth and holy altar,
My Father-land, be true ! Fling abroad thy scrolls of Freedom !
Speed them onward far and fast ! Over hill and valley speed them,
Like the Sybil's on the blast!
Lo! the Empire State is shaking
The shackles from her hand ;
The level sunset land !
East and West and North they come, And the heart-beat of the millions
Is the beat of Freedom's drum.
“ To the tyrant's plot no favor!
No heed to place-fed knaves ! Bar and bolt the door forever
Against the land of Slaves !” Hear it, mother Earth, and hear it,
The Heavens above us spread ! The land is roused — its spirit
Was sleeping, but not dead ! :
+ THE PINE TREE.
WRITTEN on hearing that the Anti-Slavery Resolves of STEPHEN C. PHILLIPB
had been rejected by the Whig Convention in Faneuil Hall, in 1846.
LIFT again the stately emblem on the Bay State's rusted shield, Give to Northern winds the Pine Tree on our banner's tattered
field, Sons of men who sat in council with their Bibles round the
board, Answering England's royal missive with a firm, “THUS SAITH
THE LORD !” Rise again for home and freedom !- set the battle in array! What the fathers did of old time we their sons must do to-day.
Tell us not of banks and tariffs - cease your paltry pedlar
cries — Shall the good State sink her honor that your gambling stocks
may rise ? Would ye barter man for cotton ? — That your gains may be
the same, Must we kiss the feet of Moloch, pass our children through the
flame? Is the dollar only real ? - God and truth and right a dream ? Weighed against your lying ledgers must our manhood kick the
Oh, my God! — for that free spirit, which of old in Boston
town Smote the Province House with terror, struck the crest of An
dros down !