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And the curse of unpaid toil,
Downward through your generous soil
Like a fire shall burn and spoil.

Our bleak hills shall bud and blow,
Vines our rocks shall overgrow,
Plenty in our vallies flow ; -

And when vengeance clouds your skies,
Hither shall ye turn your eyes,
As the lost on Paradise !

We but ask our rocky strand,
Freedom's true and brother band,
Freedom's strong and honest hand, -

Valleys by the slave untrod,
And the Pilgrim's mountain sod,
Blessed of our fathers' God I”


(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,
Roused by wrong or stung by shame,

Freely, strongly still :-
Let the sounds of traffic die :

Shut the mill-gate — leave the stall -
Fling the axe and hammer by —

Throng to Faneuil Hall !

Wrongs which freemen never brooked —

Dangers grim and fierce as they,
Which, like couching lions, looked

On your fathers' way ;-
These your instant zeal demand,

Shaking with their earthquake-call
• Every rood of Pilgrim land -
! Ho, to Faneuil Hall !

From your capes and sandy bars —

From your mountain-ridges cold,
Through whose pines the westering stars

Stoop their crowns of gold —
Come, and with your footsteps wake

Echoes from that holy wall :
Once again, for Freedom's sake,

Rock your fathers' hall !

Up, and tread beneath your feet

Every cord by party spun ;
Let your hearts together beat

As the heart of one.
Banks and tariffs, stocks and trade,

Let them rise or let them fall :
Freedom' asks your common aid —

Up, to Faneuil Hall !

Up, and let each voice that speaks

Ring from thence to Southern plains,
Sharply as the blow which breaks

Prison-bolts and chains !
Speak as well becomes the free -

Dreaded more than steel or ball,
Shall your calmest utterance be,

Heard from Faneuil Hall !

Have they wronged us ? Let us then

Render back nor threats nor prayers ; Have they chained our free-born men ?


Up! your banner leads the van,

Blazoned “ Liberty for all !”
Finish what your sires began –

Up, to Faneuil Hall !



What though around thee blazes

No fiery rallying sign ?
From all thy own high places,

Give heaven the light of thine !
What though unthrilled, unmoving,

The statesman stands apart,
And comes no warm approving

From Mammon's crowded mart ?

. Still let the land be shaken

By a summons of thine own!
By all save truth forsaken,

Why, stand with that alone!
Shrink not from strife unequal !

With the best is always hope ;
And ever in the sequel

God holds the right side up !

But when, with thine uniting,

Come voices long and loud,
And far-off hills are writing

Thy fire-words on the cloud :
When from Penobscot's fountains

A deep response is heard,
And across the Western mountains

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 ;
With the rugged North is waking

The level sunset land !
On they come — the free battalions !

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 ! :


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

beam ?

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 !

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