---

Dark as the clouds of even,

Ranked in the western heaven,

Waiting the breath that lifts

All the dread pafs, and drifts

Tempest and falling brand

Over a ruined land;

So still and orderly,

Arm to arm, knee to knee,

Waiting the great event,

Stands the black regiment.

Down the long dusky line

Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine;

And the bright bayonet,

Briftling and firmly let,

Flashed with a purpose grand,

Long ere the sharp command

Of the fierce rolling drum

Told them their time had come,

Told them what work was sent

For the black regiment.

Now, the flag-sergeant cried,

Though death and hell betide,

Let the whole nation see

If we are fit to be

Free in this land; or bound

Down, like the whining hound,

Bound with red stripes of pain

In our old chains again !

O, what a shot there went

From the black regiment !

"Charge !" Trump and drum awoke,

Onward the bondmen broke;

Bayonet and sabre-stroke

Vainly opposed their rush.

Through the wild battle's crush.

With but one thought aflush,

Driving their lords like chaff,

In the gun's mouths they laugh;

Or at the slippery brands

Leaving with open hands,

Down they tear man and horse,

Down in their awful course;

Trampling with bloody heel

Over the crashing steel,

All their eyes forward bent,

Rushed the black regiment.

"Freedom !" Their battlecry,

"Freedom ! Or leave to die !"

Ah ! And they meant the word,

Not as with us 'tis heard,

Not a mere party shout :

They gave their spirits out;

Laht euch die kette

Nicht bekümmern

Die norch an eurem arme klirrt

Iwing-uri liegt in schutt

Und trümmern

Sobald ein tell geboren wird !

Die blanke kette ist für toren

Für freie männer ist das schwert

Noch ist die freiheit nicht verloren

Solang ein herz sie noch begehrt