Still round our country's proudest hall The trade in human flesh is driven, And at each careless hammer-fall A human heart is riven. And this, too, sanctioned by the men Vested with power to shield the right, And throw each vile and robber den Wide open to the light. Yet, shame upon them! there they sit, Men of the North, subdued and still; Meek, pliant poltroons, only fit To work a master's will. Sold, bargained off for Southern votes, A passive herd of Northern mules, Just braying through their purchased throats Whate'er their owner rules. And he, [2] the basest of the base, The vilest of the vile, whose name, Embalmed in infinite disgrace, Is deathless in its shame! A tool, to bolt the people's door Against the people clamoring there, An ass, to trample on their floor A people's right of prayer! Nailed to his self-made gibbet fast, Self-pilloried to the public view, A mark for every passing blast Of scorn to whistle through; There let him hang, and hear the boast Of Southrons o'er their pliant tool,-- A new Stylites on his post, "Sacred to ridicule!" Look we at home! our noble hall, To Freedom's holy purpose given, Now rears its black and ruined wall, Beneath the wintry heaven, Telling the story of its doom, The fiendish mob, the prostrate law, The fiery jet through midnight's gloom, Our gazing thousands saw. Look to our State! the poor man's right Torn from him: and the sons of those Whose blood in Freedom's sternest fight Sprinkled the Jersey snows, Outlawed within the land of Penn, That Slavery's guilty fears might cease, And those whom God created men Toil on as brutes in peace. Yet o'er the blackness of the storm A bow of promise bends on high, And gleams of sunshine, soft and warm, Break through our clouded sky. East, West, and North, the shout is heard, Of freemen rising for the right Each valley hath its rallying word, Each hill its signal light. O'er Massachusetts' rocks of gray, The strengthening light of freedom shines, Rhode Island's Narragansett Bay, And Vermont's snow-hung pines! From Hudson's frowning palisades To Alleghany's laurelled crest, O'er lakes and prairies, streams and glades, It shines upon the West. Speed on the light to those who dwell In Slavery's land of woe and sin, And through the blackness of that bell, Let Heaven's own light break in. So shall the Southern conscience quake Before that light poured full and strong, So shall the Southern heart awake To all the bondman's wrong. And from that rich and sunny land The song of grateful millions rise, Like that of Israel's ransomed band Beneath Arabia's skies: And all who now are bound beneath Our banner's shade, our eagle's wing, From Slavery's night of moral death To light and life shall spring. Broken the bondman's chain, and gone The master's guilt, and hate, and fear, And unto both alike shall dawn A New and Happy Year. 1839.