rth,
That the reign of base tyrants is o'er,
The galling chain of the cruel lord,
Shall enslave mankind no more:
An emblem of hope to the poor and crushed,
O place it where all may see;
And shout with glad voice as you raise it high,
Our flag is the flag of the free!

Then on high, on high let that banner wave,
And lead us the foe to meet,
Let it float in triumph o'er our heads,
Or be our winding sheet;
And never, oh, never be it furled,
'Till it wave o'er earth and sea;
And all mankind shall swell the shout
Our flag is the flag of the free.

MARCH TO THE BATTLEFIELD.

Parody by G.W.C. Air "Oft in the stilly night."

[Music]

March to the battlefield,
The foe is now before us;
Each heart is freedom's shield,
And heaven is smiling o'er us.
The woes and pains of slavery's chains,
That bind three millions under;
In proud disdain we'll burst their chain,
And tear each link asunder.

Who for his country brave,
Would fly from her invader?
Who his base life to save
Would traitor like degrade her?
Our hallowed cause--
Our homes and laws,
'Gainst tyrant hosts sustaining,
We'll win a crown of bright renown,
Or die, man's rights maintaining,
March to the battlefield, &c.

Oft in the Chilly Night.

BY PIERPONT.

Oft in the chilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
When all her silvery light
The moon is pouring round me,
Beneath its ray I kneel and pray
That God would give some token
That slavery's chains on Southern plains,
Shall all ere long be broken:
Yes, in the chilly night,
Though slavery's chain has bound me,
Kneel I, and feel the might
Of God's right arm around me.

When at the driver's call,
In cold or sultry weather,
We slaves, both great and small,
Turn out to toil together,
I feel like one from whom the sun
Of hope has long departed;
And morning's light, and weary night,
Still find me broken hearted:
Thus, when the chilly breath
Of night is sighing round me,
Kneel I, and wish that death
In his cold chain had bound me.

SONG OF THE FREE.

Parodied by G.W.C. Tune, Lutzow's Wild Hunt.

[Music]

From valley and mountain, from hilltop and glen,
What shouts thro' the air are rebounding!
And echo is sending the sounds back again,
And loud thro' the air they are sounding,
And loud through the air they are sounding:
And if you ask what those joyous strains?
'Tis the songs of bondmen no