"From old Virginia's mountains,"

"From old Virginia's mountains,"

From old Virginia's mountains,

From Carolina's strand,

Where Georgia's glittering fountains

Abound with golden sand;

From many a Southern river,

From many a vale and plain,

They call us to deliver

From Slavery's galling chain.

What through th' enchanting breezes

Waft from Brittania's isles,

The news that Slavery ceases,

While man at home is vile:

In vain with lavish'd kindness,

The gifts of God are strown,

While man claims, in his blindness

His fellow man to own.

Shall we, whose fathers battled,

Oppression to destroy,

Shall we, to man enchattl'd.

Blest Freedom's lamp deny?

SPEEDY EMANCIPATION!

The joyful sound proclaim,

Till Slavery in our nation

No longer has a name.

Waft! waft! ye winds the story, -

Oppression's death-knell toll,

Till like a sea of glory

It spreads from pole to pole. -

Till all of human nature

Shall nature's rights regain,

And serve but their Creator,

Whose right it is to reign.

Unattributed

3:36, p. 4

1839.12.07

For the Rochester Freeman