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August 1.
ABOLITION OF NEGRO SLAVERY.
[_]
On this day, 1834, every slave in the British empire was legally emancipated; on this day, 1838, every slave in the British Empire became practically free.
O England! only in thine olden time
Hast thou divinely soared or greatly wrought?
Hath no majestic flight, no deed sublime
Unto thy latter days divineness brought?
Hast thou divinely soared or greatly wrought?
Hath no majestic flight, no deed sublime
Unto thy latter days divineness brought?
May sweet, melodious currents flow alone
From the green uplands of thy days gone by?
O! from no glorious summits in our own
Leap down glad streams of mighty melody?
From the green uplands of thy days gone by?
O! from no glorious summits in our own
Leap down glad streams of mighty melody?
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Nay, English singer! thou mayst catch the gleam
Of glory gatherëd thine eyes beneath,
Mayst draw into a deep melodious stream
The heroic breath thine England still doth breathe.
Of glory gatherëd thine eyes beneath,
Mayst draw into a deep melodious stream
The heroic breath thine England still doth breathe.
Ne'er glowed her heart with a more holy heat
Than when it burned to set her bondmen free;
Ne'er dealt her arm a stroke more strong, more sweet,
Than when it pierced the heart of Slavery.
Than when it burned to set her bondmen free;
Ne'er dealt her arm a stroke more strong, more sweet,
Than when it pierced the heart of Slavery.
O! not the spoils from her own tyrants rent
In such sweet majesty about her hung.
O! not the joy of her own freedom lent
Such radiance to her face, such rapture to her tongue.
In such sweet majesty about her hung.
O! not the joy of her own freedom lent
Such radiance to her face, such rapture to her tongue.
Once softly on the dying baron's ear
The priest the sacred suit of Freedom pressed,
And won from the pale, parting sinner's fear
The word that made his groaning bondmen blest.
The priest the sacred suit of Freedom pressed,
And won from the pale, parting sinner's fear
The word that made his groaning bondmen blest.
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But here that word a living nation spoke,
From England's glowing heart august it sprung;
A mighty nation o'er that broken yoke
Its treasure and its toil sublimely flung.
From England's glowing heart august it sprung;
A mighty nation o'er that broken yoke
Its treasure and its toil sublimely flung.
Imperial Isle! hold fast thy world-wide reign!
Yes, unabashed thy queenly raiment wear!
Thy sacred soil no bondman may profane,
And only freemen breathe thy holy air.
Yes, unabashed thy queenly raiment wear!
Thy sacred soil no bondman may profane,
And only freemen breathe thy holy air.
Joy to the Sun that may not turn his eye
From that unbounded empery of thine,
Nor drop upon one bondman's misery
The mocking smile of his free, gladsome shine!
From that unbounded empery of thine,
Nor drop upon one bondman's misery
The mocking smile of his free, gladsome shine!
O! will not Heaven enlarge the Sacred Soil
That brooketh not the tread of servile feet,
And guard the glory of the Imperial Isle
Where thronëd Freedom smiles sublime and sweet?
That brooketh not the tread of servile feet,
And guard the glory of the Imperial Isle
Where thronëd Freedom smiles sublime and sweet?
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