Freedom and Right

O! THINK not the Twain have gone down to their graves I
O! say not that Mankind should basely despair,

Because Earth is yet trodden by tyrants and slaves,
And the sighs of the Noble are spent on the air!

Oh, no! though the Pole, from the swamps of the North,

Sees trampled in shreds the bright banner he bore;
Though Italy's heroes in frenzy pour forth

The rich blood of their hearts on the dark dungeon-
floor,

Still live-
Ever live in their might
Both Freedom and Right!

Who fight in the van of the battle must fall —

All honor be theirs! — 'tis for Us to press on!
They have struck the first links from the gyves that en-
thral

Men's minds; and the half of our triumph is won —
The swift-coming triumph of Freedom and Right!

Yes! tremble, ye Despots! the hour will have birth
When, as vampires and bats, by the arrows of Light,
Your nature, your names, will be blasted from Earth!
For still-
Still live in their might
Fair Freedom and Right!

Gone down to the grave? No! if ever their breath

Gave life to the paralysed nations, 'tis now,
When the serf at length wakes, as from torpor or death,
And the sunshine of Hope gleams anew on his brow!
They traverse the globe in a whirlwind of fire —

They sound their deep trumpet o'er Ocean and Land,
Enkindling in myriads the quenchless desire
To arm as one man for the Conflict at hand 1
Oh! still-
Still live in their might
Both Freedom and Right!

They rouse even dastards to combat and dare,

Till the last of oppression's bastiles be overthrown;
When they conquer not here, they are conquering else-
where,

And ere long they will conquer all Earth for their own.
Then first will be born the Millennium of Peace —

And, O God! what a garland will bloom in the sun,
When the oak-leaf of Deutschland, the olive of Greece,
And the trefoil of Ireland are blended in one I
As they will;
For still in their might
Live Freedom and Eight!

And what, though before that Millennium can dawn,

The bones of our Bravest must bleach on the plain?
Thank Heaven! they will feel that the swords they have
drawn

Will be sheathed by the victors, undimmed by a stain!
And their names through all time will be shrined in each
heart

As the moral Columbuses — they who unfurled
That sunbeamy standard that shone as a chart

To illumine our way to the better New World I