Their manhood to crush out, and bow them down
Like soul-less brutes by torture and the lash!
Oh! noble is thine end! and may God crown
The work with rich success, and swiftly dash
Such yokes in twain, till men shout “Victory!
A Jubilee on earth! all slaves are free!”
Night Musings.
The sun’s keen rays are hidden by the hills,
But golden glories flame along the sky,