D is the Driver, cold and stern,
Who follows, whip in hand,
To punish those who dare to rest,
Or disobey command.
E is the Eagle, soaring high;
An emblem of the free;
But while we chain our brother man,
Our type he cannot be.
F is the heart-sick Fugitive,
The slave who runs away,
And travels through the dreary night,
But hides himself by day.
G is the Gong, whose rolling sound,
Before the morning light,
Calls up the little sleeping slave,
To labor until night.
H is the Hound his master trained,
And called to scent the track
Of the unhappy Fugitive,
And bring him trembling back.
