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IV.My Country, thus with Truth and Freedom blest, Who for thy hurt had dared to barb the dart,Save that thine arm, far-reaching from the West, Had plunged the knife in Afric's bleeding heart. O guilty nation, jeering at the martWhere men were scourged, and swarthy maidens sold, When Vengeance rose what arm his bolts could thwart?Unstayed the blood-dyed billows o'er thee rolled—Down dropped the night of Death! Ah then what heart was bold?

V.While yawned amid the deeps thy weltering tomb, Lo, yet, thy late repentance winged the prayer;Heaven smiling heard, blue skies began to bloom, Dawn touched thy hills and wrapped thy valleys fair;