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 songs of sorrow, being heard throughout the land, pæans of praise ascended from its every corner, and honors were heaped on the heads of her murderers. But Liberty as truly died then, as if loud lamentations had been made in her behalf, and the descendants of those very men, who in 1765 followed the coffin of liberty to its place of deposit, because no business was deemed lawful unless the records of it were made on stamped paper; the descendants of these very mourners of liberty, now, do what is infinitely worse than to use the stamped paper of a British king; they swear to support that sacrifice of Liberty upon the altar of Southern slavery, whenever they are admitted to any offices of trust and renown. Is not this oppressive, when we may not administer justice to our fellow men, or exercise the most common authority, without renewing the thrust at the departed spirit of liberty, as our fathers actually slew her fair form?

 O Liberty! didst thou draw thy keen sword For those, whom av'rice sought to rob, and slay, And sent its minions far, to seek its prey, That glittering gold might its coffers fill; While they their foes should crush, and seek to kill, That England's lords, their gold could steal, and hoard?

Goddess celestial, and divine, and pure, Wert thou, the champion brave, the soldier true, Who fought with youthful vigor, with the few, Of Columbia's sons, who stood, a sturdy band, And bade their country's foes to leave their land, While they, to thee didst vow allegiance sure?

Insulted nymph! thy fair form shone so bright, That kings, as thee they saw, could not reject That face, alive with claims to their respect; E'en they, besotted with the lust of power, Could not refuse to yield to thee thy dower, But ceased at thy command, their foes to fight.