The Anti-Slavery Harp | Page 3

charity;
Give me some food and then I will be gone.
Pity, kind
gentlemen, friends of humanity,
Cold blows the wind and the night's
coming on.
Call me not indolent beggar and bold enough,
Fain would I learn both
to knit and to sew;
I've two little brothers at home, when they're old
enough,
They will work hard for the gifts you bestow;
Pity, kind
gentlemen, friends of humanity.
Cold blows the wind, and the night's
coming on;
Give me some food for my mother in charity,
Give me
some food, and then I will begone.
JUBILEE SONG.
Air--Away the Bowl.
Our grateful hearts with joy o'erflow,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
We hail
the Despot's overthrow,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
No more he'll raise the
gory lash,
And sink it deep in human flesh,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Hurra
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
We raise the song in Freedom's name,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Her
glorious triumph we proclaim,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Beneath her
feet lie Slavery's chains,
Their power to curse no more remains,

Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
With joy we'll make the air resound,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
That all
may hear the gladsome sound,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
We glory at
Oppression's fall,
The Slave has burst his deadly thrall,
Hurra,

Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
In mirthful glee we'll dance and sing,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
With
shouts we'll make the welkin ring,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Shout!
shout aloud! the bondsman's free!
This, this is Freedom's jubilee!

Hurra, Hurra, Hurra, Hurra,
Hurra, Hurra, Hurra.
SPIRIT OF FREEMEN, WAKE.
AIR--America.
Spirit of Freemen, wake;
No truce with Slavery make,
Thy deadly
foe;
In fair disguises dressed,
Too long hast thou caress'd
The
serpent in thy breast,
Now lay him low.
Must e'en the press be dumb?
Must truth itself succumb?
And
thoughts be mute?
Shall law be set aside,
The right of prayer denied,

Nature and God decried,
And man called brute?
What lover of her fame
Feels not his country's shame,
In this dark
hour?
Where are the patriots now,
Of honest heart and brow,
Who
scorn the neck to bow
To Slavery's power?
Sons of the Free! we call
On you, in field and hall,
To rise as one;

Your heaven-born rights maintain,
Nor let Oppression's chain
On
human limbs remain;--
Speak! and 't is done.
THE SLAVE'S LAMENTATION.
AIR--Long, long ago.
Where are the friends that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago--long
ago!
Where are the hopes that my heart used to cheer?
Long, long
ago--long ago!
I am degraded, for man was my foe,
Friends that I
loved in the grave are laid low,
All hope of freedom hath fled from
me now,

Long, long ago--long, long ago!

Sadly my wife bowed her beautiful head--
Long, long ago--long ago!

O, how I wept when I found she was dead!
Long, long ago--long
ago!
She was my angel, my love and pride--
Vainly to save her
from torture I tried,
Poor broken heart! She rejoiced as she died,

Long, long ago--long, long ago!
Let me look back on the days of my youth--
Long, long ago--long
ago!
Master withheld from me knowledge and truth--
Long, long
ago--long ago!
Crushed all the hopes of my earliest day,
Sent me
from father and mother away--
Forbade me to read, nor allowed me
to pray--
Long, long ago--long, long ago!
FLIGHT OF THE BONDMAN.
DEDICATED TO WILLIAM W.
BROWN
And Sung by the Hutchinsons
BY ELIAS SMITH.
AIR--Silver Moon.
From the crack of the rifle and baying of hound,
Takes the poor
panting bondman his flight;
His couch through the day is the cold
damp ground,
But northward he runs through the night.
Chorus.
O, God speed the flight of the desolate slave,
Let his heart
never yield to despair;
There is room 'mong our hills for the true and
the brave,
Let his lungs breathe our free northern air!
O, sweet to the storm-driven sailor the light,
Streaming far o'er the
dark swelling wave;
But sweeter by far 'mong the lights of the night,

Is the star of the north to the slave.
O, God speed, &c.
Cold and bleak are our mountains and chilling our winds,
But warm
as the soft southern gales
Be the hands and the hearts which the
hunted one finds,
'Mong our hills and our own winter vales.
O, God
speed, &c.

Then list to the 'plaint of the heart-broken thrall,
Ye blood-hounds, go
back to your lair;
May a free northern soil soon give freedom to all,

Who shall breathe in its pure mountain air.
O, God speed, &c.
THE SWEETS OF LIBERTY.
AIR--Is there a heart, &c.
Is there a man that never sighed
To set the prisoner free?
Is there a
man that never prized
The sweets of liberty?
Then let him, let him
breathe unseen,
Or in a dungeon live;
Nor never, never know the
sweets
That liberty can give.
Is there a heart so cold in man,
Can galling fetters crave?
Is there a
wretch so truly low,
Can stoop to be a slave?
O, let him, then, in
chains be bound,
In chains and bondage live;
Nor never, never
know the sweets
That liberty can give.
Is there a breast so chilled in life,
Can nurse the coward's sigh?
Is
there a creature so debased,
Would not for freedom die?
O, let him
then be doomed to crawl
Where only reptiles live;
Nor never, never
know the sweets
That liberty can give.
YE SPIRITS OF THE FREE.
AIR--My Faith looks up to thee.
Ye spirits