Classic Poem

Wealth , doff thy jewelled crown of gold,
Thy sceptre strong, nor rave;
I tell thee, Wealth, on Christian mold
Thou canst not buy a slave.
Nay, tyrant, seek some other sod
For slaves to tremble at thy nod!

Hence, despot, with thy clanking chains!
Thou canst not purchase here.
Seek brutal hinds on savage plains;
We hold our poor men dear.
They shall not bend beneath thy yoke,
Nor cringe before thy sceptre's stroke.

God spake — we listened — loud His voice,
High o'er the noise of waves.
Arose our answer: " Laud, rejoice,
No more shall blood of slaves
Enrich our soil! " From sea to sea
Rolled God's grand watchword, " Liberty. "

What! tyrant, dost thou linger yet
With sceptre and with crown?
Can it be thy mighty foot is set
On necks of men bowed down?
And dost thou smile with fierce lips locked?
Is God by despot Wealth still mocked?

Look down, O God! whence comes this train
Yoked to the tyrant's wheel?
Hark! dost Thou hear that clanking chain?
See yon gaunt wretches reel?
Art Thou not mocked, eternal God?
Are these not serfs on freedom's sod?

Out, fool! this is a Christian land,
And they but idly rave
Who clamour that yon grisly band
Contains a single slave;
Not one was bought in any mart,
None captive to the sword or dart.

Wealth is no despot, owns no slave;
No wretch must take his dole —
He hath a choice, the yawning grave —
Then answer, foolish soul,
Is Wealth a tyrant if he thrives
When famine strikes at lowly lives?