Look forth, thou man of many scars,

Through thy dim dungeon’s iron bars!

It must be joy, in sooth, to see

Yon monument uprear’d to thee—

Piled granite and a prison cell—

The land repays thy service well!

Go, ring the bells and fire the guns,

And fling the starry banner out;

Shout “Freedom!” till your lisping ones

Give back their cradle-shout: