  Ye who dwell in quiet hamlets, Ye who crowd the busy ways— All who love this great Republic In these dark, imperiled days, Does your Freedom never seem Like the beauty of a dream? Must the lightning’s flash and thunder On our slumber glare and break, Ere from false and fleeting visions We to real danger wake? Must the earthquake’s heavy tread Crush us sleepers with the dead? Hear ye not succeeding ages, From their cloudy distance cry? See ye not the hands of nations Lifted toward the threat’ning sky? Now or never, rise and gain Freedom for this fair domain! We have vanquished foreign tyrants— Now the battle draws anear; Let not Despots have this boasting, That a Freeman knows to fear; By your Fathers’ patriot graves, Rise! nor be forever slaves! Speak! ye orators of Freemen, Let your thunder shake these plains; Write! ye editors of Freedom, Let your lightning rive these chains; Up! ye sons of Pilgrims, rise! Give this land to future ages Free, as God has made it free; Swear that not another acre Shall be cursed with Slavery; Strike for Freedom and for right, God himself is Freedom’s might. |
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