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Oh who upon his lips could lay
The seal of caution strong,
And calmly give the slander way
That does his country wrong?
Who can restrain the burning word,
The fearless glance of youth,
When each indignant thought is stirred
To witness to the truth?


New England! glorious native land!
When false to thee I prove,
Then palsied be my faithless hand,
My lips forget to move!
When thou art challenged, shall my voice
In thy good cause forbear?
No! be a nobler part my choice,


Home of the good, the brave, the wise,
Bold youth and beauty bright,
The Sun, as on his course he hies
Beholds no lovelier sight.
Italia's vales with perfume glow
From every flowery tree,
But ne'er those lovely valleys know
The breath of Liberty.


Bright beams the sun on Syria's plains,
Where ancient prophets trod,
And held, in Nature's forest fanes,
High converse with their God.
But holier are the hills that bind
Thy stormy ocean shore,
For there the sacred human mind
Knows its own strength once more.


There, in the cottage and the hall,
As bursts the morning ray,
The hymn of praise ascends from all
To him who gives the day.
There, as the evening sun declines
They join in harmless glee;
On all the beam of pleasure shines,
For all alike are free.


Yet if I love thee, native land!
Is the bright South less dear?
Can I not prize the lofty band
Of generous spirits here?
Souls warm with honour's sacred fire!
Hearts true in friendship known!
Fearless I strike the patriot lyre--
Its spirit is your own.