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the leap from the long bridge.
The dark, and the cold, yet merciful wave
Receives to its bosom the form of the slave.
She rises,—earth's scenes on her dim vision gleam,
But she struggleth not with the strong, rushing stream,
And low are the death-cries her woman's heart gives
As she floats adown the river;
Faint and more faint grows her drowning voice,
And her cries have ceased for ever!
Receives to its bosom the form of the slave.
She rises,—earth's scenes on her dim vision gleam,
But she struggleth not with the strong, rushing stream,
And low are the death-cries her woman's heart gives
As she floats adown the river;
Faint and more faint grows her drowning voice,
And her cries have ceased for ever!
Now back, jailer, back to thy dungeons again,
To swing the red lash and rivet the chain!
The form thou wouldst fetter a valueless clod,
The soul thou wouldst barter returned to her God!
She lifts in His light her unmanacled hands;
She flees through the darkness no more;
To freedom she leaped through drowning and death,
And her sorrow and bondage are o'er.
To swing the red lash and rivet the chain!
The form thou wouldst fetter a valueless clod,
The soul thou wouldst barter returned to her God!
She lifts in His light her unmanacled hands;
She flees through the darkness no more;
To freedom she leaped through drowning and death,
And her sorrow and bondage are o'er.
