The Flying Slave
From the Bangor Gazette
AIR:—“To Greece we give our shining blades.”
The night is dark, and keen the air,
And the Slave is flying to be free;
His parting word is one short prayer:
Oh God, but give me Liberty!
Farewell—farewell:
Behind I leave the whips and chains,
Before me spreads sweet Freedom’s plains.
One star shines in the heavens above
That guides him on his lonely way;—
Star of the North—how deep his love
For thee, thou star of Liberty!
Farewell—farewell:
Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
Before him spreads sweet Freedom’s plains.