But thou,—lost mother, every trace of thee
In the vast sepulchre of Slavery!
Long years have fled, since sad, faint-hearted,
I stood on Freedom’s shore,
And knew, dear mother, from thee I was parted
To meet thee never more;
And deemed the tyrant’s chain with thee were better
Than stranger hearts and limbs without a fetter.
Yet blessings on thy Roman-mother spirit;
Could I forget it, then,