It calls on spirits pale with wonder,
In desperation's words of thunder,
To rise and burst its chain asunder.
On retribution's vengeful hand,
On this calls my Fatherland.
What would the minstrel's Fatherland?
To blot out slav'ry's foul disgrace,
The bloodhound from its realms to chase,
And free to bear a freeborn race:
Or bid them free beneath its sand,