William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Seventy-SixWilliam Cullen Bryant (17941878)
W
When, through the fresh awaken’d land
The thrilling cry of freedom rung,
And to the work of warfare strung
The yeoman’s iron hand!
And ocean-mart replied to mart,
And streams, whose springs were yet unfound,
Peal’d far away the startling sound
Into the forest’s heart.
From mountain river swift and cold;
The borders of the stormy deep,
The vales where gather’d waters sleep,
Sent up the strong and bold.
Grew quick with God’s creating breath,
And, from the sods of grove and glen,
Rose ranks of lion-hearted men
To battle to the death.
The fair fond bride of yestereve,
And aged sire and matron gray,
Saw the loved warriors haste away,
And deem’d it sin to grieve.
Already blood on Concord’s plain
Along the springing grass had run,
And blood had flow’d at Lexington,
Like brooks of April rain.
Hallow’d to freedom all the shore;
In fragments fell the yoke abhorr’d—
The footstep of a foreign lord
Profaned the soil no more.