Birth-day song of liberty :: :: University of Virginia Library

With the voice of an Angel that wakes from their slumber,
The dead in their graves, there no longer to lie,
Kossutii called the Hungarians to rise without number,
And they blazed out in answer like stars in the sky!

Hear the thundering curses from the proud hearts of millions,
On the Tyrants now hurled, like the Simoon's hot breath;
May the Lightnings of God blast these merciless villians
Who shall go down to Hell from the Red Field of Death!
To that God-chosen land, far beyond the deep ocean,—
That Canaan of countries, the Land of the Free,—
From this dark Nile of Night, come away to God's Goshen,
And eat the ripe fruit plucked from Liberty's tree.
Strike—strike the bold harp! &c.