The Sighs

The Sighs

Shout to the winds of heaven
Babylon at length shall fall;
The flat hath been given
And mightly watchers call
"The time is come! her g[?] yoke
From off cretion's neck is broke!"

Toussaint L'Overture,
With myriad unseen bands,
Has made destruction sure;
And [?] shall stay their hands
Tll thro' all lands, o'er every sea,
Shall roll the tidings, "Man is free!"

Great Wilberforce hath risen,
With hosts of lesser name,
And the damned slave-pen prison
In [?] in the [?]—
And men of power have learned at length
The prowess of Jehovah's strength.

Can ye not read the signs?
The "Year of Jubilee,"
Is written in the I[?]
That tell of destiny!
And though a million hosts oppose,
Freedom shall break her b[?]nded foes.

I hear from Heaven a voice,
"The dead are blest, who die,
From henceforth,"—man whose choice
Is "Death of Liberty!"
Ring forth the t[?] to the world,
"No Slavery!" is the flag unfurled.

Creeping with stealthy tread
The sycophants of place
Have copious torrents shed,
And the red blood must trace
The steps, of those whose pride of power
Forgot the cry of misery's hour.

Unattributed

1:5, p. 1

8.31.1861