owers in ill.
It is my country's due,
And I'll give it, while I can,
To the honest and the true,
Like a man, like a man!
O shame, &c.

No, no, I'll hold my vote,
As a treasure and a trust,
My dishonor none shall quote,
When I'm mingled with the dust;
And my children when I'm gone,
Shall be strengthened by the thought,
That their father was not one
To be bought, to be bought!
O shame, &c.

The Flying Slave.

FROM THE BANGOR GAZETTE.

AIR:--"_To Greece we give our shining blades_."

The night is dark, and keen the air,
And the Slave is flying to be free;
His parting word is one short prayer:
Oh God, but give me Liberty!
Farewell--farewell:
Behind I leave the whips and chains,
Before me spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

One star shines in the heavens above
That guides him on his lonely way;--
Star of the North--how deep his love
For thee, thou star of Liberty!
Farewell--farewell:
Behind he leaves the whips and chains,
Before him spreads sweet Freedom's plains.

For the Election.

TUNE:--'_Scots wha hae with Wallace bled_.'

Ye who know and do the right,
Ye who cherish honor bright,
Ye who worship love and light,
Choose your side to-day.
Succor Freedom, now you can,
Voting for an honest man;
Or you may from Slavery's span,
Pick a Polk or Clay.

Boasts your vote no higher aim,
Than between two blots of shame
That would stain our country's fame,
Just to choose the least?
Let it sternly answer no!
Let it straight for Freedom go;
Let it swell the winds that blow
From the north and east.

Blot!--the smaller--is a curse
Blighting conscience, honor, purse;
Give us any, give the worse,
'Twill be less endured.
Freemen, is it God who wills
You to choose, of foulest ills,
That which only latest kills?
No; he wills it cured.

Do your duty, He will aid;
Dare to vote as you have prayed;
Who e'er conquered, while his blade
Served his open foes.
Right established, would you see?
Feel that you yourselves are free;
Strike for that which ought to be--
God will bless the blows.

Hail the Day!

AIR:--"_Wreathe the bowl_."

Hail the day
Whose joyful ray
Speaks of emancipation!
The day that broke
Oppression's yoke--
The birth-day of a nation!

When England's might
Put forth for right,
Achieved a fame more glorious
Than armies tried,
Or navies' pride,
O'er land and sea victorio