Again to the foeman he speaks, he speaks,
But utters his cry in vain;
He breathes no curse, no vengeance seeks,--
For the broken hearts or the anguished shrieks,
For the mother's pains,
Or the father's gains,--
Upon the oppressor's name.

To nations of freemen once more he comes,
To raise Liberty's banner high;
He tells of the wrongs of the bonded slave,
And cries aloud, 'mid throngs of the brave,
"O freemen, arise!
Be faithful and wise,
And answer the mourner's cry.

In melting strains of love he calls, he calls,
To the great and good from afar;
Till sympathy wakes to the truthful tale,
And the prayer of the faith, which cannot fail,
Ascends to heaven,
And grace is given,
To nerve for the bloodless war.

The truth with a magic power prevails:
All hearts are moved to the strife;
In a holy phalanx, and with deathless aim,
They seek a peaceful triumph to gain
O'er the tyrant's sway,