His mother’s cabin-home, that lay
Where feathery cocoas fringed the bay;
The dashing of his brethren’s oar—
The conch-note heard along the shore;
All through his wakening bosom swept—
He clasp’d his country’s tree, and wept!
Oh! scorn him not! The strength whereby
The patriot girds himself to die,
Th’ unconquerable power which fills
The freeman battling on his hills,