"A Voice from America's Plains" and "A Cry from the Isles of the West" , by Paul Moon James
Part I.
A voice from America's plains!
A shout o'er the waves of the sea!
"Colombia hath broken her chains,
The bondsmen have fought and are free!
Hail, Britain! hail, Liberty's land!
Where beauty and manliness blend;
In the boldness of freemen we stand,
And hail thee our brother, our friend!
"Long ages were destined to roll,
And our spirits were shadowed with gloom,
But who shall imprison the soul
When she dares her just rights to assume?
The nature of manhood is changed,
When the scorn of oppression swells high;
And the warriors in battle are ranged,
Who have sworn to live free or to die.
"Now the wave round the storm-vext Magellan
The downfall of tyranny sings;
And Mexico's mountains are telling
The joy that from liberty springs.
Cotopaxi hath caught the proud strain,
Chimborazo's wild echo replies;
And the sailor that ploughs the free main
Repeats the glad shout to the skies.
"Truth and light to our shores are advancing,
Bright knowledge illumines our race,
And bigotry's meteor, wild glancing,
To religion's blest day-star gives place.
Hail, Britain! hail, liberty's land!
Where beauty and manliness blend;
In the boldness of freemen we stand,
And bail thee our brother, our friend!"
"A Cry from the Isles of the West."
Part II.
A cry from the isles of the west!
A groan o'er the desolate wave!
'Tis the cry of the soul of the weary for rest,
The groan of despair from the slave.
"Shall the winds as they sweep round the earth
The downfall of tyranny sing,
And the tidings triumphant of Liberty's birth
To all but the African bring?
"O Britain! while realms in despair
Invoke thee to soothe their distress,
Shall all but the bondsmen of Africa share
Thy power, thy exertions to bless?
"The slave of a Briton! woe, woe
To the thought that engenders such shame!
Tell it not in the echoing streets of thy foe,
Breathe it not in the halls of thy fame!
"Why lingers the ship on the wave,
With her tidings of joy to the soul,
That freedom shall dwell with the race of the slave,
And justice our tyrants control:
"That knowledge shall teach us to trust
In our God, and his mercies to scan;
And shall raise up the wretch that now grovels in dust,
To the pride and the stature of man.
"O speed! lest Domingo should tell
Where the paths of deliverance lie--
She hath fought, and the shouts of her victory swell
From her ransomed hosts to the sky.
"They have fought, and their foes were their spoils,
No white man their struggles would share--
The African lion hath burst through his toils,
And who shall disturb his dread lair!
"But our thoughts do not dwell with the sword,
To the brave in our weakness we kneel;
Sweet Mercy hath breathed for our sorrows her word,
And her pleadings are stronger than steel!"
Paul Moon James.
Birmingham, 1826.