William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Song: ‘When the warrior returns from the battle afar’W
To the home and the country he nobly defended,
O warm be the welcome to gladden his ear,
And loud be the joy that his perils are ended;
In the full tide of song, let his fame roll along,
To the feast-flowing board let us gratefully throng,
Where mix’d with the olive, the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.
Who claim their reward in thy heart’s warm emotion,
When thy cause, when thy honour, urged onward the bold,
In vain frown’d the desert—in vain raged the ocean.
To a far distant shore—to the battle’s wild roar,
They rush’d, thy fair fame and thy rights to secure:
Then mix’d with the olive the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.
Shall exultingly hear, of their sons, the proud story,
How their young bosoms glow’d with the patriot flame,
How they fought, how they fell, in the blaze of their glory.
How triumphant they rode o’er the wondering flood,
And stain’d the blue waters with infidel blood;
How mix’d with the olive the laurel did wave,
And form’d a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.
Till their foes shrunk dismay’d from the war’s desolation,
And pale beam’d the crescent, its splendour obscured
By the light of the star-spangled flag of our nation.
Where, each radiant star gleam’d a meteor of war,
And the turban’d heads bow’d to the terrible glare;
Then mix’d with the olive the laurel did wave,
And form’d a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.
To the home, and the country, he nobly defended;
Let the thanks due to valour, now gladden his ear,
And loud be the joy that his perils are ended.
In the full tide of song, let his fame roll along,
To the feast-flowing board let us gratefully throng;
Where, mix’d with the olive, the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.