The Flying Slave.

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FROM THE BANGOR GAZETTE.

AIR:—"To Greece we give our shining blades."

The night is dark, and keen the air,
And the Slave is flying to be free;
His parting word is one short prayer:
Oh God, but give me Liberty!
Farewell—farewell:
Behind I leave the whips and chains,
Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.
One star shines in the heavens above
That guides him on his lonely way;—
Star of the North—how deep his love
For thee, thou star of Liberty!
Farewell—farewell:
Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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