First published in The Liberty Bell, by Friends of Freedom, Boston: Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Fair, 1843.
Ho hunters of the panting slave, That. irom your house and Iiounds has fled And sought a reuge where the brare Of other days for freedom bied; Bring yo'jrfleet coursers to a hak! Cali in your hounds! - they're all atfault.' Your 8luve - the thankless refugee! Feigning some terrible alarnis, Dares, for protection, look to me; Yes, cast hirnself inio my anns; And saya that he has heard them teil Where Prescott fought, and Warren feil: - 'That he has heard about apile, That heavenwards lifis itsstately head, That day may leave its pnrting sniilo Just where my bravest children bied, Like victims, at their country's cali, To purchase liberty for all: 'And that, long ere 'October'ssun,' At Richmond, tingod one raven lock Of Webster, lic had henrd of one. Who s;iid. not far from Pliinouth's rock: - "I heer the hammer's sund!--I see "The furnace smoke of slavery! Belore my sight the visiÃ³n swims, "Of foul artificers. by whum "Feiters are forged for human limbs, "While Midnight wrops their work in gloom, "And makes ihestrokes of her sullen beli "Chime in with the strjkes of that work of heil! "I cali on thosc, who, round the flame "Of righteous law, keep watch and ward,"Or. in ReligiÃ³n. s awfu! name, "Serve in ihe temples of the Lord, ';To let these si nners feel the ban Of Church and State, - of God and man!" 'And trusting that the soul that spoke Such words. yet lived, in all my bounds, Your hunted one shook off your yoke; And, from your halters and your hounds, Has lie esenped,. and fled to me, Resolved on :death or liberty.' Poor cheaied "clinttel!" Whe'n I sing Offreedom, andold War's disnsters, I mean, I'ni freo from George ihe King, Not free from you - my southern masters! O, no; the slaves from you that slip, I'll caich and hold_. for you to whip. 'For, thus 'tis written in the bond That holds the North and South together:So, master, vvhen your 'ihings' abscond, Be it in warm or wintry weather, I nab them: - so dismiss your pack Of hounds; nnd come, and take hftirt back. 'For I have also "ihings," that talk, Each furnished with an iron claw, To 'hook' such wares as hither walk; With, or without the formsof law: - So come, and feed my bipedpack; Come and 'convey' your chattel back.' Good God! Is it to such a note That staunch old Massachusetts yelps? Opensshe thusher deep toned throat? Fall8 she in thus. with younger wholpa? In the hot chase of fleeting gangs, In human limbs to flesh her fangs? The firesof freedom must she quench - The proud old Mother of us all- Upon her Altar and her Bench - On Bunker's Hill- n FaneuÃ¼ Hall? Must the last sparh be trodden out, Lest her old Virgin sister pout? No! - LctoH Mnssachuseits tread Queenly, along her rugged shorc, From Plymouih'8 rock. to Mnrblehead, And as the surges rage. nnd roar, And ioam, - !et her look down, and sny, 'Well thundered, Ocean! - roar away!'The Hand that lifts your thrcntening seas, Has reared these ramparts on my line: - Be stil!, or stormy, - ns yuu piense; 'Tis all the same to me and mine. These rocks iny grounds and children guard; So, beat away! - you'll find, they're hard.' So, too, when Southcrn despots chafe, And scent their flylng bond man's track, "Within her lines let hitn besafe; And, though they foam, let t'icm fall back; And let her lift her hand, and say, - 'From Berkshire's hills to Buzzard's Bay, You Bee a land of Liberty! True hearts are here, and toil worn hands: No foot can tep here, but 'tisfree; -Look. stranyer, luok o'er all these Innds; ThcTtsroom herc yct, forfrenmens graves, Bat noneor kidnappers or slavcs,'