Page:The rising son, or, The antecedents and advancement of the colored race (IA risingsonthe00browrich).pdf/14

 The battle's din hath passad away, And o'er the furrowed plain Spring, fresh and green, the tender blades Of Freedom's golden grain; But eagle eyes must watch the field, Lest the fell foe should dare To scatter, while the sowers sleep, Proscription's noxious snare.

Lo! shadowy 'mid the forest-trees Their demon forms are seen, And lurid light of baleful eyes Flash through the foliage green; And till completed is the work So gloriously begun, A sentry true on Freedom's walls Stand thou, O "Rising Son!"

Go forth! the harbinger of days More glorious than the past; Hushed is the clash of hostile steel, The bugle's battle-blast; Go, herald of the promised time, When men of every land Shall hasten joyfully to grasp The Ethiope's outstretched hand!