Liberty Or Death

Virginius, the Roman Father, With beating heart, though brave, Beheld his fair Virginia doomed, To be a tyrant's slave. Despair had gather'd on his brow, Commingled with regret; A gleam of hope ran through his soul, I may redeem her yet. Come hither, belov'd Virginia, Ere we forever part; He clasp'd her to his beating breast, Then stab'd her to the heart. Thus, did a Roman Father slay, The idol of his soul, To screen her from a tyrant's lust, A tyrant's foul control. Though this was done in days of yore, The act was truly brave; What value, pray, is life to man, If that man be a slave? Go and ask of Margaret Garner, Who's now in prison bound, (No braver woman e'er hath trod, Columbia's slave-cursed ground Why did she with a mother's hand Deprive her child of breath? She'll tell you, with a Roman's smile, That slavery's worse than death. O! that every bondman now, Through all that slave-cursed land, Had each a heart like Margaret's, Their freedom to demand. Then the Jubilee year would come; On spire and dome you'd see Inscribed in blazing characters, That all mankind are free. Long live the name of Margaret, In every freeman's breast; And when her days are numbered here, May she in heaven be blest!