Oh ! sing it in the light of freedom's morn, Tho' tyrant wars have made the earth a grave ; The good, the great, and true, are, if so, born. And so with slaves, chains do not make the slave! If high-souled birth be what the mother gave, — If manly birth, and manly to the core, — Whate'er the test, the man will he behave! Crush him to earth and crush him o'er and o'er, A man he'll rise at last and meet you as before.