THE RISING OF THE PEOPLE.
Oh Law! fair form of Liberty! God's light is on thy brow,
Oh Liberty! thou soul of Law, God’s very self art thou.
One the clear river’s sparkling flood that clothes the bank
with green;
And one the line of [stubborn] rock that holds the water in ---
Friends, whom we cannot think apart, seeming each other’s
foe:
Twin flowers upon a single stalk with equal grace that grow.
Oh, fair ideas, we write your names across our banner’s fold;
For you, the sluggard’s brain is fire, for you, the coward bold.
Oh! daughter of the bleeding [Past] ! Oh! hope the prophets
saw!
God give us Law in Liberty, and Liberty in Law!
Oh, mothers! when, around your hearths, ye count your
cherished ones,
And miss from the enchanted ring the flower of all your sons;
Oh, wives! when o’er the cradled child ye bend at evening’s
fall,
And voices which the heart can hear across the distance call;
Oh, maids! when, in the sleepless nights; ye [ope] the little
[case]
And look till ye can look no more upon the proud young face,
Not only pray the Lordof Life, who measures mortal breath,
To bring the absent back unscathed out of the fire of death;
Oh, pray with that divine content which God’s best favour
draws,
That whosoever lives or dies, he saves his holy cause!
Oh, woman! drive the rattling loom and gather in the hay;
For all the youth worth love and truth are marshalled for the
fray.
Southward the hosts are hurrying, with banners wide
unfurled,
From where the stately Hudson floats the wealth of half the
From where amid his clustered isles,Lake Huron’s waters
gleam;
From where the Mississipi pours an unpolluted stream;
From where Kentucky’s fields of corn bend in the Southern air;
From broad Ohio’s luscious vines; from Jersey’s orchards
fair;
From where, between his fertile slopes, Nebraska’s rivers
run;
From Pennsylvania’s iron hills; from woody Oregon;
And [Massachusetts] led the van, as in the days of yore,
And gave her reddest blood to clean the streets of [Baltimore] .
Oh, mothers! sisters! daughters! spare the tears ye fain
would shed;
Who seem to die in such a cause, ye cannot call them dead;
They live upon the lips of men, in picture, bust, and song,
And nature folds them in her heart and keeps them safe
from wrong.
Oh! length of days is not a boon the brave man prayeth for;
There are a thousand evils worse than death or any war ---
Oppression, with his iron strength, fed on the souls of men,
And License, with the hungry brood that haunt his ghastly
den.
But like bright stars ye fill the eye; adoring hearts ye draw;
Oh! sacred grace of Liberty! oh, majesty of Law!
Hurrah, the drums are beating; the fife is calling shrill;
Ten thousand starry banners flame on town, and bay, and hill;
The thunders of the rising war drown labour’s peaceful hum;
Thank God that we have lived to see the saffron morning
come ---
The morning of the battle call, to every soldier dear
Oh joy! the cry is “Forward!” Oh joy, the foe is near!
For all the crafty men of peace have failed to purge the land;
Hurrah! the ranks of battle close! God takes his cause in hand!