While on every southern gale, Comes the helpless captive’s tale, And the voice of woman’s wail, And of man’s despair! While our homes and rights are dear, Guarded still with watchful fear, Shall we coldly turn our ear From the suppliant’s prayer! Never! by our Country’s shame-- Never! by a Saviour’s claim, To the men of every name, Whom he died to save. Onward, then, ye fearless band-- Heart to heart, and hand to hand; Yours shall be the patriot’s stand-- Or the martyr’s grave. FUGITIVE’S TRIUMPH. Go, go, thou that enslav’st me, Now, now, thy power is o’er; Long, long, have I obeyed thee, I’m not a slave any more; No, no--oh, no! I’m a _free man_ ever more! Thou, thou, broughtest me ever, Deep, deep, sorrow and pain; But I have left thee forever, Nor will I serve thee again; No, no--oh, no! No, I’ll not serve thee again. Tyrant! thou hast bereft me Home, friends, pleasures so sweet; Now, forever I’ve left thee, Thou and I never shall meet; No, no--oh, no! Thou and I never shall meet. Joys, joys, bright as the morning, Now, now, on me will pour, Hope, hope, on me is dawning, _I’m not a slave any more!_ No, no--oh, no! I’m a FREE MAN evermore! THE BONDMAN. AIR--Troubadour. Feebly the bondman toiled, Sadly he wept-- Then to his wretched cot Mournfully crept; How doth his free-born soul Pine ’neath his chain! Slavery! Slavery! Dark is thy reign. Long ere the break of day, Roused from repose, Wearily toiling Till after its close-- Praying for freedom, He spends his last breath: Liberty! Liberty! Give me or death. When, when, O Lord! will right Triumph o’er wrong? Tyrants oppress the weak, O Lord! how long? Hark! hark! a peal resounds From shore to shore-- Tyranny! Tyranny! Thy reign is o’er. E’en now the morning Gleams from the East-- Despots are feeling Their triumph is past-- Strong hearts are answering To freedom’s loud call-- Liberty! Liberty! Full and for all. RIGHT ON. AIR--Lenox. Ho! children of the brave, Ho! freemen of the land, That hurled into the grave Oppression’s bloody band; Come on, come on, and joined be we, To make the fettered bondman free. Let coward vassals sneak From freedom’s battle still, Poltroons that dare not speak But as their priests may will; Come on, come on, and joined be we, To make the fettered bondman free. On parchment, scroll and creed, With human life-blood red, Untrembling at the deed, Plant firm your manly tread; The priest may howl, the jurist rave, But we will free the fettered slave.