The Liberty Minstrel Part 17

Oft in the Chilly Night.

BY PIERPONT.

Oft in the chilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, When all her silvery light The moon is pouring round me, Beneath its ray I kneel and pray That G.o.d would give some token That slavery's chains on Southern plains, Shall all ere long be broken: Yes, in the chilly night, Though slavery's chain has bound me, Kneel I, and feel the might Of G.o.d's right arm around me.

When at the driver's call, In cold or sultry weather, We slaves, both great and small, Turn out to toil together, I feel like one from whom the sun Of hope has long departed; And morning's light, and weary night, Still find me broken hearted: Thus, when the chilly breath Of night is sighing round me, Kneel I, and wish that death In his cold chain had bound me.

SONG OF THE FREE.

Parodied by G.W.C. Tune, Lutzow's Wild Hunt.

[Music]

From valley and mountain, from hilltop and glen, What shouts thro' the air are rebounding!

And echo is sending the sounds back again, And loud thro' the air they are sounding, And loud through the air they are sounding: And if you ask what those joyous strains?

'Tis the songs of bondmen now bursting their chains.

And who through our nation is waging the fight?

What host from the battle is flying?

Our true hearted freemen maintain the right, And the monster oppression is dying, And the monster oppression is dying: And if you ask what you there behold?

'Tis the army of freemen, the true and the bold.

Too long have slave-holders triumphantly reigned, Too long in their chains have they bound us; To freedom awaking, no longer enchained, The G.o.ddess of freedom has saved us, The G.o.ddess of freedom has saved us: And if you ask what has made us free?

'Tis the vote that gave us our liberty.

Holy Freedom.

BY PIERPONT.

The bondmen are free in the isles of the main!

The chains from their limbs they are flinging!

They stand up as men!--never tyrant again, In the pride of his heart, shall G.o.d's image profane!

It is Liberty's song that is ringing!

Hark! loud comes the cry o'er the bounding sea, "Freedom! Freedom! Freedom, our joy is in thee!"

Alas! that to-day, on Columbia's sh.o.r.e, The groans of her slaves are resounding!

On plains of the South their life-blood they pour!

O, Freemen! blest Freemen! your help they implore!

It is Slavery's wail that is sounding!

Hark! loud comes the cry on the Southern gale, "Freedom! Freedom! Freedom or death, must prevail!"

O ye who are blest with fair Liberty's light, With courage and hope all abounding, With weapons of love be ye bold for the right!

By the preaching of truth put oppression to flight!

Then, your altars triumphant surrounding, Loud, loud let the anthem of joy ring out!

"Freedom! Freedom!" list all the world to the shout!

YE SONS OF FREEMEN.

Words by Mrs. J.G. Carter. Air, "Ma.r.s.eilles Hymn."

[Music]

Ye sons of freemen wake to sadness, Hark! hark, what myriads bid you rise; Three millions of our race in madness Break out in wails, in bitter cries, Break out in wails, in bitter cries; Must men whose hearts now bleed with anguish, Yes, trembling slaves, in freedom's land Endure the lash, nor raise a hand?

Must nature 'neath the whip-cord languish?

Have pity on the slave, Take courage from G.o.d's word; Pray on, pray on, all hearts resolved, these captives shall be free.

The fearful storm--it threatens lowering, Which G.o.d in mercy long delays; Slaves yet may see their masters cowering, While whole plantations smoke and blaze!

While whole plantations smoke and blaze!

And we may now prevent the ruin, Ere lawless force with guilty stride Shall scatter vengeance far and wide-- With untold crimes their hands embruing.

Have pity on the slave; Take courage from G.o.d's word; Pray, on, pray on, all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free!

With luxury and wealth surrounded, The southern masters proudly dare, With thirst of gold and power unbounded, To mete and vend G.o.d's light and air!

To mete and vend G.o.d's light and air; Like beasts of burden, slaves are loaded, Till life's poor toilsome day is o'er; While they in vain for right implore; And shall they longer still be goaded?

Have pity on the slave; Take courage from G.o.d's word; Toil on, toil on, all hearts resolved these captives shall be free.

O Liberty! can man e'er bind thee?

Can overseers quench thy flame?

Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee, Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame?

Or threats thy Heaven born spirit tame?

Too long the slave has groaned bewailing The power these heartless tyrants wield; Yet free them not by sword or s.h.i.+eld, For with men's heart's they're unavailing, Have pity on the slave: Take courage from G.o.d's word; Vote on! vote on! all hearts resolved--these captives shall be free!

ARE YE TRULY FREE?

Words by J.R. Lowell. Air, "Martyn."

[Music]

Men! whose boast it is that ye Come of fathers brave and free; If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye truly free and brave?

Are ye not base slaves indeed, Men unworthy to be freed?