Poetry: New England Enslaved

[Written on Bunker Hill Day, June 17tb, 1841, when the news of Wise's Gog reach. ed Boston.] In with the Gag! aypa let it choke, 'Till we have learned that we ure skivee! What boots it that our father's broke And hurled this day the British yoke? Our fathersi they are in their graves ! In with it, Wise! then lift thy hand, Iieeking with murdercd Cilley's blood ! Swear by the Throno where thou must stand For gag-dominion o'er the land Where the free Pilgrims left the fiood ! 'Tis but a land of Yankees! They rrnerned in by rocks and rivers; So, teil them if they won't obey, And take the gag again to-day, you'Uburat the ünion all to Binvers! On such a day, my lord, their sires Were seen this hour on Bunker's Hill ! Thero they first lighted freedom's fires, Byyonder monument and apires, And we would keep them burning still! But what of that? In with the Gag! Twist it the Yankee throat about ! Bostonians! furl your starry flag! Off from the heights your cannon drag, And Btanap oíd Faneuil's embers out! What! knovy yo not that ye are slaves, To do the gallant South's commands? Your standard but in mockery waves - Your guns insult your father'a graves - Look at the fetteis on your hands! Yes! ye may write - what Southrons please, And beg - the favors they may give ! As suppliants yo may - clasp their knees, And then - await their eovereign case, To b.id ye die, or let ye live!