A crash and through the roof, what floods of hate!
Still, ye budge not, for "Freedom," your teeth grate,
"Shall lie no wreck along the cyclone's track."
Oh, not for you was dark the time to slumber,
But to hold Freedom's columns all star-plumb!
Yours was a watery grave, but Martyrdom
And, hence, your resurrection with the number,
Whose greatness greatens, as the Ages come
To know why their pathway, no wrecks encumber.