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| HAIL 1 to the heroes whose triumphs have brighten’d | |
| The darkness which shrouded America’s name; | |
| Long shall their valor in battle that lighten’d, | |
| Live in the brilliant escutcheons of fame: | |
| Dark where the torrents flow, | 5 |
| And the rude tempests blow, | |
| The storm clad spirit of Albion raves; | |
| Long shall she mourn the day, | |
| When, in the vengeful fray, | |
| Liberty walk’d like a god on the waves. | 10 |
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| The ocean, ye chiefs, (the region of glory, | |
| Where fortune has destined Columbia to reign,) | |
| Gleams with the halo and lustre of story, | |
| That curl round the wave as the scene of her fame: | |
| There, on its raging tide, | 15 |
| Shall her proud navy ride, | |
| The bulwark of freedom, protected by heaven; | |
| There shall her haughty foe, | |
| Bow to her prowess low, | |
| There shall renown to her heroes be given. | 20 |
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| The Pillar of Glory, the sea that enlightens, | |
| Shall last till eternity rocks on its base, | |
| The splendor of fame its waters that brightens, | |
| Shall light the footsteps of time in his race: | |
| Wide o’er the stormy deep, | 25 |
| Where the rude surges sweep, | |
| Its lustre shall circle the brows of the brave; | |
| Honor shall give it light, | |
| Triumph shall keep it bright, | |
| Long as in battle we meet on the wave. | 30 |
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| Already the storm of contention has hurl’d | |
| From the grasp of Old England the trident of war, | |
| The beams of our stars have illumined the world, | |
| Unfurl’d our standard beats proud in the air: | |
| Wild glares the eagle’s eye, | 35 |
| Swift as he cuts the sky, | |
| Marking the wake where our heroes advance; | |
| Compass’d with rays of light, | |
| Hovers he o’er the fight; | |
| Albion is heartless—and stoops to his glance. | 40 |
