A Parody

A Parody

My country! 'tis for thee,
Dark land of slavery,

For Thee I weep;

Land where the slave has signed,
Land, where he toiled and died,
To serve a tyrant's pride -

For thee I weep,

My native country! thee,
Land of the noble free -

Of Liberty -

My native country, weep;
A fast in sorrow keep,
The stain is foul and deep

Of slavery.

From every mountain side,
Upon the ocean's tide,

They call on thee;

Amid thy rocks and rills,
The woods and templed hills,
I hear a voice which thrills,

Let all go free!

Arise! break every band,
And sound throughout this land

Sweet Freedom's song:

No groans that song shall break,
But all that breathe partake,
And slaves their silence break -

The sound prolong.

Our father's God! to thee,
Author of Liberty,

To thee we pray:

Soon may our land be pure,
Let Freedom's light endure,
And liberty to all secure,

Beneath thy sway.

Unattributed

2:23, p. 92

1838.07.28

From the Bangor Farmer