John Hill Hewitt (1801–1890)

WHEN Freedom, from her starry home,

Look’d down upon the drooping world,

She saw a land of fairy bloom,

Where Ocean’s sparkling billows curl’d;

The sunbeams kiss’d its mighty floods,

And verdure clad its boundless plains—

But floods, and fields, and leafy woods,

All wore alike a despot’s chains!

“Be free!” she cried, “land of my choice;

Arise! and put thy buckler on;

Let every patriot raise his voice

For Liberty and Washington!”

The word went forth from hill to vale,

Each patriot heart leapt at the sound;

Proud Freedom’s banner flapp’d the gale,

And Britain’s chains fell to the ground.

Man stood erect in majesty,

The proud defender of his rights:

For where is he would not be free

From stern oppression’s deadening blights!

Be free—be free then, happy land!

Forever beam the light that shone

Upon the firm and dauntless band,

Who fought beside our Washington!

Lo! where the forest’s children rove

Midst woody hill and rocky glen,

Wild as the dark retreats they loved—

What now are towns were deserts then.

The world has mark’d her onward way,

Beneath the smile of Liberty;

And Fame records the glorious day

Which made the western empire free.

Be free—be free then, glorious land!

In union be thy millions one;

Be strong in friendship’s holy band,

Thy brightest star—our Washington!