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: