You may talk of your glorious freedom,
Your laws, and your charters of Right;
But where are they now when we need 'em,
Alas! have they all ta'en to flight?
Shall we suffer the tyrants to drive us,
Who call ourselves Britons and free;
Shall we suffer them now to deprive us
Of the standard of true liberty.
What! shall the Republic of letters
By the chains of oppression be bound;
Shall opinion be galled by their fetters,
And sink into darkness profound!
Arise! if there's spirit among us,
Shall we turn from the contest and flee;
Arise against those who would wrong us,
Hurruh! for the Press shall be free.
The Press shall be free, for we prize it --
We are not afraid of a frown.
The truth! we shall never disguise it,
Hurrah! we will not be put down.
First published in The Argus, 1 May 1849
