The Liberator

[From the New-York Evangelist.]

AMERICAN SLAVERY.

—BY W. B. TAPPAN.

Lift ye my country's banner high,
And fling abroad its gorgeous scene:
Unroll its stripes upon the sky,
And let its lovely stars be seen.
Blood—blood! is on its spangled fold,
Yet from the battle comes it not:
God! all the seas thy channels hold,
Cannot wash out the guilty spot.
These glorious stars and stripes that led
Our lion-hearted fathers on—;
Veiled only to the honored dead
Beaming where fields and fame were won.
These symbols that to kings could tell
Our young republic's rising name, :
And speak to doating realms the knell
Of glory past, of future shame :
Dishonored shall they be by hands,
On which a sacrament doth lie?
The light that heralded to lands
Immortal glory—must it die ?
No! let the earthquake utterance be
From thousand swelling hearts—not so:
And let one voice from land and sea,
Return indignant answer—yo!
Up then! determine, dare and do,
What justice claims, what freemen may :
What frowning heaven demands of you
While yet its muttering thunders stay.
That they, forever from this soil
Bid Slavery's withering blight depart;
And to the wretch restore the spoil,
"Though thou may'st not the broken heart.
That thou thy brother from the dust :
Lift up, and speak his spirit free!
That millions, whom thy crime hath curst
May blessings plead on thine and thee.
Then to the universe wide spread
"Thy glorious stars, without a stain;
Bend from your skies, illustrious dead!
'The world ye won is free again.