The Anti-Slavery Harp Part 9

There's a good time coming boys, A good time coming; War in all men's eyes shall be, A monster of iniquity, In the good time coming.

Nations shall not quarrel then, To prove which is the stronger; Nor slaughter men for glory's sake, Wait a little longer.

O, there's a good time, &c.

THE BIGOT FIRE.

Written on the occasion of George Latimer's Imprisonment in Levorott street Jail, Boston.

O, kindle not that bigot fire, 'T will bring disunion, fear and pain; 'T will rouse at last the souther's ire, And burst our starry land in twain.

Theirs is the high, the n.o.ble worth, The very soul of chivalry; Rend not our blood-bought land apart, For such a thing as slavery.

This is the language of the North, I shame to say it but't is true; And anti-slavery calls it forth, From some proud priests and laymen too.

What! bend forsooth to southern rule?

What! cringe and crawl to souther's clay, And be the base, the supple tool, Of h.e.l.l-begotten slavery?

No! never, while the free air plays O'er our rough hills and sunny fountains, Shall proud New England's sons be _free_, And clank their fetters round her mountains.

Go if ye will and grind in dust, Dark Afric's poor, degraded child; Wring from his sinews gold accursed, And boast your gospel warm and mild.

While on our mountain tops the pine In freedom her green branches wave, Her sons shall never stoop to bind The galling shackle of the slave.

Ye dare demand with haughty tone, For us to pander to your shame, To give our brother up alone, To feel the lash and wear the chain.

Our brother never shall go back, When once he presses our free sh.o.r.e; Though souther's power with h.e.l.l to back, Comes thundering at our northern door.

No! rather be our starry land, Into a thousand fragments riven; Upon our own free hills we'll stand, And pour upon the breeze of heaven, A curse so loud, so stern, so deep, Shall start ye in your guilty sleep.

OFT IN THE CHILLY NIGHT.

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.

ARE YE TRULY FREE?

AIR--Martyn.

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, If ye do not feel the chain, When it works a brother's pain?

Women! who shall one day bear Sons to breathe G.o.d's bounteous air, If ye hear without a blush, Deeds to make the roused blood rush Like red lava through your veins, For your sisters now in chains; Answer! are ye fit to be Mothers of the brave and free?

Is true freedom but to break Fetters for our own dear sake, And, with leathern hearts forget That we owe mankind a debt?

No! true freedom is to share All the chains our brothers wear, And with hand and heart to be Earnest to make others free.

They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves, who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than, in silence, shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves, who dare not be In the right with _two_ or _three_.

EMANc.i.p.aTION SONG.

AIR--Crambambule.

Let waiting throngs now lift their voices, As Freedom's glorious day draws near, While every gentle tongue rejoices, And each bold heart is filled with cheer; The slave has seen the Northern star, He'll soon be free, hurrah, hurrah!

Though many still are writhing under The cruel whips of "chevaliers,"

Who mothers from their children sunder, And scourge them for their helpless tears-- Their safe deliverance is not far!

The day draws nigh!--hurrah, hurrah!

Just ere the dawn the darkness deepest Surrounds the earth as with a pall; Dry up thy tears, O thou that weepest, That on thy sight the rays may fall!

No doubt let now thy bosom mar; Send up the shout--hurrah, hurrah!

Shall we distrust the G.o.d of Heaven?-- He every doubt and fear will quell; By him the captive's chains are riven-- So let us loud the chorus swell!

Man shall be free from cruel law,-- Man shall be MAN!--hurrah, hurrah!

No more again shall it be granted To southern overseers to rule-- No more will pilgrims' sons be taunted With cringing low in slavery's school.

So clear the way for Freedom's car-- The free shall rule!--hurrah, hurrah!

Send up the shout Emanc.i.p.ation-- From heaven let the echoes bound-- Soon will it bless this franchised nation, Come raise again the stirring sound!

Emanc.i.p.ation near and far-- Swell up the shout--hurrah! hurrah!

WHAT MEAN YE?

AIR--Ortonville.

What mean ye that ye bruise and bind My people, saith the Lord, And starve your craving brother's mind, Who asks to hear my word?

What mean ye that ye make them toil, Through long and dreary years, And shed like rain upon your soil Their blood and bitter tears?

What mean ye, that ye dare to rend The tender mother's heart?

Brothers from sisters, friend from friend, How dare you bid them part?

What mean ye, when G.o.d's bounteous hand To you so much has given, That from the slave who tills your land Ye keep both earth and heaven?

When at the judgment G.o.d shall call, Where is thy brother? say, What mean ye to the Judge of all To answer on that day?