For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft is ever won.

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah hath triumphed--his people are free. - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),

Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.

Hereditary bondsmen! Know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.