Page:The rising son, or, The antecedents and advancement of the colored race (IA risingsonthe00browrich).pdf/14

The battle's din hath passad away,
  And o'er the furrowed plain
Spring, fresh and green, the tender blades
  Of Freedom's golden grain;
But eagle eyes must watch the field,
  Lest the fell foe should dare
To scatter, while the sowers sleep,
  Proscription's noxious snare.

Lo! shadowy 'mid the forest-trees
  Their demon forms are seen,
And lurid light of baleful eyes
  Flash through the foliage green;
And till completed is the work
  So gloriously begun,
A sentry true on Freedom's walls
  Stand thou, O "Rising Son!"

Go forth! the harbinger of days
  More glorious than the past;
Hushed is the clash of hostile steel,
  The bugle's battle-blast;
Go, herald of the promised time,
  When men of every land
Shall hasten joyfully to grasp
  The Ethiope's outstretched hand!