To Faneuil Hall

Men! if manhood still ye claim,     If the Northern pulse can thrill,     Roused by wrong or stung by shame,     Freely, strongly still;     Let the sounds of traffic die:     Shut the mill-gate, leave the stall,     Fling the axe and hammer by;     Throng to Faneuil Hall!     Wrongs which freemen never brooked,     Dangers grim and fierce as they,     Which, like couching lions, looked     On your fathers' way;     These your instant zeal demand,     Shaking with their earthquake-call     Every rood of Pilgrim land,     Ho, to Faneuil Hall!     From your capes and sandy bars,     From your mountain-ridges cold,     Through whose pines the westering stars     Stoop their crowns of gold;     Come, and with your footsteps wake     Echoes from that holy wall;     Once again, for Freedom's sake,     Rock your fathers' hall!     Up, and tread beneath your feet     Every cord by party spun:     Let your hearts together beat     As the heart of one.     Banks and tarrifs, stocks and trade,     Let them rise or let them fall:     Freedom asks your common aid,     Up, to Faneuil Hall!     Up, and let each voice that speaks     Ring from thence to Southern plains,     Sharply as the blow which breaks     Prison-bolts and chains!     Speak as well becomes the free:     Dreaded more than steel or ball,     Shall your calmest utterance be,     Heard from Faneuil Hall!     Have they wronged us? Let us then     Render back nor threats nor prayers;     Have they chained our free-born men?     Let us unchain theirs!     Up, your banner leads the van,     Blazoned, "Liberty for all!"     Finish what your sires began!     Up, to Faneuil Hall