  How long, O gracious God! how long, Shall power lord it over right? The feeble, trampled by the strong, Remain in slavery’s gloomy night? In every region of the earth, Oppression rules with iron power; And every man of sterling worth, Whose soul disdains to cringe or cower Beneath a haughty tyrant’s nod, And, supplicating, kiss the rod That, wielded by oppression’s might, Smites to the earth his dearest right,— The right to speak, and think, and feel, And spread his uttered thoughts abroad, To labor for the common weal, Responsible to none but God,— Is threatened with the dungeon’s gloom, The felon’s cell, the traitor’s doom, And treacherous politicians league With hireling priests, to crush and ban All who expose their vile intrigue, And vindicate the rights of man. How long shall Afric’ raise to thee Her fettered hand, O Lord! in vain, And plead in fearful agony For vengeance for her children slain? I see the Gambia’s swelling flood, And Niger’s darkly rolling wave, Bear on their bosoms, stained with blood, The bound and lacerated slave; While numerous tribes spread near and far, Fierce, devastating, barbarous war, Earth’s fairest scenes in ruin laid, To furnish victims for that trade, Which breeds on earth such deeds of shame, As fiends might blush to hear or name. I see where Danube’s waters roll, And where the Magyar vainly strove, With valiant arm and faithful soul, In battle for the land he loved,— A perjured tyrant’s legions tread The ground where Freedom’s heroes bled, And still the voice of those who feel Their country’s wrongs, with Austrian steel. I see the “Rugged Russian Bear,” Lead forth his slavish hordes, to war Upon the right of every State Its own affairs to regulate; To help each despot bind the chain Upon the people’s rights again, And crush beneath his ponderous paw All constitutions, rights, and law. I see in France,—O burning shame!— The shadow of a mighty name, Wielding the power her patriot bands Had boldly wrenched from kingly hands, With more despotic pride of sway Than ever monarch dared display. The Fisher, too, whose world-wide nets Are spread to snare the souls of men, By foreign tyrants’ bayonets Established on his throne again, Blesses the swords still reeking red With the best blood his country bore, And prays for blessings on the head Of him who wades through Roman gore. The same unholy sacrifice Where’er I turn bursts on mine eyes, Of princely pomp, and priestly pride, The people trampled in the dust, Their dearest, holiest rights denied, Their hopes destroyed, their spirit crushed: But when I turn the land to view, Which claims, par excellence, to be The refuge of the brave and true, The strongest bulwark of the free, The grand asylum for the poor And trodden down of every land, Where they may rest in peace, secure, Nor fear the oppressor’s iron hand,— Worse scenes of rapine, lust, and shame, Than e’er disgraced the Russian name, Worse than the Austrian ever saw, Are sanctioned here as righteous law. Here might the Austrian butcher Progress in shameful cruelty, Where women-whippers proudly take The meed and praise of chivalry. Here might the cunning Jesuit learn, Though skilled in subtle sophistry, And trained to persevere in stern Unsympathizing cruelty, And call that good, which, right or wrong, Will tend to make his order strong: He here might learn from those who stand High in the gospel ministry, The very magnates of the land In evangelic piety, That conscience must not only bend To everything the church decrees, But it must also condescend, When drunken politicians please To place their own inhuman acts Above the “higher law” of God, And on the hunted victim’s tracks Cheer the malignant fiends of blood, To help the man-thief bind the chain Upon his Christian brother’s limb, And bear to slavery’s hell again The bound and suffering child of Him Who died upon the cross, to save Alike, the master and the slave. While all the oppressed from every land Are welcomed here with open hand, And fulsome praises rend the heaven For those who have the fetters riven Of European tyranny, And bravely struck for liberty; And while from thirty thousand fanes Mock prayers go up, and hymns are sung, Three million drag their clanking chains, “Unwept, unhonored, and unsung;” Doomed to a state of slavery, Compared with which the darkest night Of European tyranny, Seems brilliant as the noonday light. While politicians void of shame, Cry this is law and liberty, The clergy lend the awful name And sanction of the Deity, To help sustain the monstrous wrong, And crush the weak beneath the strong. Lord, thou hast said the tyrant’s ear Shall not be always closed to thee, But that thou wilt in wrath appear, And set the trembling captive free. And even now dark omens rise To those who either see or hear, And gather o’er the darkening skies The threatening signs of fate and fear; Not like the plagues which Egypt saw, When rising in an evil hour, A rebel ’gainst the “higher law,” And glorying in her mighty power,— Saw blasting fire, and blighting hail, Sweep o’er her rich and fertile vale, And heard on every rising gale Ascend the bitter mourning wail; And blighted herd, and blasted plain, |
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