And his broad sword was swinging, Then the blue And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle-breath. And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared the GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER. SONG OF MARION'S MEN. OUR band is few, but true and tried, Our tent the cypress-tree; As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. Wo to the English soldiery That little dread us near! Are beat to earth again; And they who fly in terror, deem And hear the tramp of thousands Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil; We talk the battle over, With merry songs we mock the wind On beds of oaken leaves. Well knows the fair and friendly moon The scampering of their steeds. Before the peep of day. Grave men there are by broad Santee, WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. O! SAY, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming! And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; The woodland rings with laugh and shout, O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet And share the battle's spoil. As if a hunt were up, To crown the soldier's cup. And woodland flowers are gathered wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? THE AMERICAN FLAG. On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the tow ering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream; 'Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave! And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul foot steps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. THE AMERICAN FLAG. I. 381 WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there; II. Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heavenChild of the sun! to thee 't is given To guard the banner of the free, III. Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on; Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn, And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance; And when the cannon-mouthings loud Heave in wild wreathes the battle-shroud, And gory sabres rise and fall, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall; Then shall thy meteor-glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. |