William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Bell of the RevolutionWilliam Bingham Tappan (17941849)
’T
The anointed bell proclaim
The triumphs of a glorious band,
And their invaders’ shame:
’Twas fitting, that its merry peal
Should fling out silver tones,
That did, before, the
So terrible to thrones.
To Israel’s tribes of yore,
Free as the winds of heaven, was sent
To this far western shore:
Our fathers spake it in distress—
A small and feeble flock—
They hymn’d it in the wilderness,
And wrote it on the rock.
The founder—that his art
Graved only here the impress true,
Already on the heart:
And he well deem’d that liberty
Should one day wake the sword:
Around the hearths of all the free,
It was a cherish’d word,
To wake up idle strife;
But treasured as a holy thing,
Dearer to heart than life.
Marvel not, then, the voice thus pent
Within the conscious breast,
At times, through some unguarded vent
Should rush forth unrepress’d.
Of high oppression’s knell;
Of banners beckoning, garments roll’d
In blood—that warning bell!
Yes, also, that from martyr graves
Columbia’s living seed
Should spring—the scourge of sceptred slaves,
The bulwark of her need.
Forth goes the unerring sound:—
It stirs another hemisphere,
A world shall be unbound!
And children, rescued from the yoke,
Shall to their children tell
Of the immortal deed that woke
The Revolution’s bell.