Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/67

66 What hand with shameful stain Hath marred its heavenly blue? The yoke, the fasces, and the chain, Say, are these emblems true?

This day doth music rare Swell through our nation's bound, But Afric's wailing mingles there, And Heaven doth hear the sound; O God of power!—we turn In penitence to thee, Bid our loved land the lesson learn— To bid the slave be free.