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FREEDOM'S WATCHWORD.
Those dreams are broken—gone the Past, and gone her magic thrall,
When one arises in their midst, the noblest of them all!
"Thou thinkest of a worn-out World, thou dweller of the New,
And of her glory too, perchance, but is it shared by you?
Go ask the slave, that in the mine, toils through unendihg night,
If the gold he seeks for gives him joy, because that gold is bright?
We, for her glory struggle on, down to destruction's waves;
What does it matter?—she is great, and are we not her slaves?
When one arises in their midst, the noblest of them all!
"Thou thinkest of a worn-out World, thou dweller of the New,
And of her glory too, perchance, but is it shared by you?
Go ask the slave, that in the mine, toils through unendihg night,
If the gold he seeks for gives him joy, because that gold is bright?
We, for her glory struggle on, down to destruction's waves;
What does it matter?—she is great, and are we not her slaves?
"Ye think upon the Past—now turn, and on the Present think:
We ask her for affection's cup, she gives us scorn to drink!
But fourfold shall it be returned, amid the battle's glare.
We'll tear a nation from her grasp, and shame shall be her share.
We'll be a nation of ourselves; have glory of our own.
Will win it for no other land; no monarch on his throne:
We ask her for affection's cup, she gives us scorn to drink!
But fourfold shall it be returned, amid the battle's glare.
We'll tear a nation from her grasp, and shame shall be her share.
We'll be a nation of ourselves; have glory of our own.
Will win it for no other land; no monarch on his throne:
