In Freedom's cause it were a joy to die!
The stake, the dungeon, and the gory block,
These are the deep foundations of that rock
Whence rise the sacred walls of Liberty.
Each groan, each tear, each whitened hair, each sigh,
Each rusted chain, each bolt, each bar, each lock,
What are they but the powers at last which mock
The baffled rage of dying Tyranny?
Thus, when all's done which mortal man can do,
The last word spoken tyrants dread to hear,
The last bow struck, it were indeed a shame
If we, at Freedom's call, should fail to bear
With dignity that lot she grants but few--
To die, and dying bless her sacred name.