Poetry: A Parody

My country! ?lis for thee, Dark land of slavery, For thee, I wecp; Land where the pJave lias siglied, Lnnd, where hetoüed and died, To serve a tyrant's pride - For thee, I weep, My native country! t)eej Land of the uoble free - Of liberty- My native country, weep; A fast in sorrow keep, The stain is foul and deep Of slavery. From every mountain s'tde, Up the ocean's tide, They cali on thee; Amid tby rocks and rills, Thy vood8 and templed hills, I hear a voice which thriüs, Let all go f ree! Arise! break every band, Anc sound tliroughout this land Sweet freedom's song; No groans that song shall brek, But all thnt breatl)e partoke, And slaves their silence break - The sound prolong. Onr fatbers' God ! lo thee, Author of Liberty, To thee, we pray; Soon may our land be pure - Let frecdom's light endure, And Jiberty to all secure, Beneath thy sway.