Peace, then, ye blasphemers of Liberty's name! Though red was the blood by your forefathers spilt, Still redder your cheeks should be mantled with shame, Till the spirit of freedom shall cancel the guilt. But the brand of the slave is the tint of his skin, Though his heart may beat loyal and true underneath; While the soul of the tyrant is rotten within, And his white the mere cloak to the blackness of death. Are ye deaf to the plaints that each moment arise? Is it thus ye forget the mild precepts of Penn,-- Unheeding the clamor that "maddens the skies," As ye trample the rights of your dark fellow-men? When the incense that glows before Liberty's shrine, Is unmixed with the blood of the galled and oppressed, O, then, and then only, the boast may be thine, That the stripes and stars wave o'er a land of the blest. THE SLAVE-AUCTION--A FACT. Why stands she near the auction stand, That girl so young and fair; What brings her to this dismal place, Why stands she weeping there? Why does she raise that bitter cry? Why hangs her head with shame, As now the auctioneer's rough voice, So rudely calls her name? But see! she grasps a manly hand, And in a voice so low, As scarcely to be heard, she says, 'My brother, must I go?' A moment's pause: then midst a wail Of agonizing woe, His answer falls upon the ear, 'Yes, sister, you must go!' 'No longer can my arm defend, No longer can I save My sister from the horrid fate That waits her as a SLAVE!' Ah! now I know why she is there, She came there to be sold! That lovely form, that noble mind, Must be exchanged for gold! O God! my every heart-string cries, Dost thou these scenes behold In this our boasted Christian land, And must the truth be told? Blush, Christian, blush! for e'en the dark Untutored heathen see Thy inconsistency, and lo! They scorn thy God, and thee! GET OFF THE TRACK. Air--Dan Tucker. Ho! the car Emancipation Rides majestic thro' our nation, Bearing on its train the story, Liberty! a nation's glory. Roll it along, thro' the nation, Freedom's car, Emancipation! First of all the train, and greater, Speeds the dauntless Liberator, Onward cheered amid hosannas, And the waving of free banners. Roll it along! spread your banners, While the people shout hosannas. Men of various predilections, Frightened, run in all directions; Merchants, editors, physicians, Lawyers, priests, and politicians. Get out of the way! every station! Clear the track of 'mancipation! Let the ministers and churches Leave behind sectarian lurches; Jump on board the car of Freedom, Ere it be too late to need them. Sound the alarm! Pulpits thunder! Ere too late you see your blunder! Politicians gazed, astounded, When, at first, our bell resounded; _Freight trains_ are coming, tell these foxes, With our _votes_ and _ballot boxes_. Jump for your lives! politicians, From your dangerous, false positions.