 | Poems by the late John Bethune |  |
ON THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SLAVES, AUGUST 1836.
No sun hath ever risen more bright
Than that which rose to-day,
To break the scourge of Tyranny,
And tear its bonds away.
Than that which rose to-day,
To break the scourge of Tyranny,
And tear its bonds away.
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Freedom, exulting, hail'd its rise,
Religion bless'd its beam;
And stainless spirits in the skies
Made it their glorious theme!
Religion bless'd its beam;
And stainless spirits in the skies
Made it their glorious theme!
This day hath wash'd the blackest blot
From Britain's scutcheon'd fame;
And made the Mistress of the World
Deserving of the name.
From Britain's scutcheon'd fame;
And made the Mistress of the World
Deserving of the name.
| Poems by the late John Bethune | |