THE HILL OF FREEDOM. 431 



Innumerous the sylphids who wander among 



The groves and the glades, while the Birds, in full 



song, 

 Sent o'er hill and o'er valley the notes of delight, 

 As the sun of the morning in splendour rose bright. 



The Children of Africa, groaning and sore 

 With the chains of oppression, will bear them no 



more. 

 On her hill top fair Freedom they ken from afar, 

 And indignantly threaten their Masters with war: 

 They to her look for succour — to her they appeal — 

 That she the deep wounds of oppression will heal. 

 She, in accents benignant, bright hope by her side, 

 To the tale of their sorrows thus kindly replied : 



" Ye Children of Afric! your manifold wrongs 

 " Long by me have been heard in your prayers and 



songs ; 

 " Nor have heard I in vain : for gone forth is a sound 

 " That will your oppression abash and confound : 

 "That sound is of Knowledge the mild and still 



voice, 

 " At whose bidding all nations shall sing and rejoice. 

 " My handmaid is she — will my fiat attend, 

 " And ever will prove your inflexible friend. 

 " O seek her, pursue her by day and by night ; 

 " All her paths are of peace and are strew'd with de- 

 light. 

 ;i Without her what aid can I, Freedom, impart? 

 " It is Knowledge with me that must govern the 

 heart. 



