THE FLAG OF THE FREE.
I love to mark the white and hissing foam come boiling up,
Fresh as the froth that hangs about the Thunderer's nectar cup.
All sail—Away—ah! who would stay to pace the dusty land,
If once they trod a gallant ship, steer'd by a gallant band?
Through the Waters, through the Waters. Oh, there's not a joy for me
Like racing with the gull upon a broad and dashing sea!
Fresh as the froth that hangs about the Thunderer's nectar cup.
All sail—Away—ah! who would stay to pace the dusty land,
If once they trod a gallant ship, steer'd by a gallant band?
Through the Waters, through the Waters. Oh, there's not a joy for me
Like racing with the gull upon a broad and dashing sea!
THE FLAG OF THE FREE.
'Tis the streamer of England—it floats o'er the brave—
'Tis the fairest unfurl'd o'er the land or the wave;
But though brightest in story and matchless in fight,
'Tis the herald of Mercy as well as of Might.
In the cause of the wrong'd may it ever be first—
When tyrants are humbled and fetters are burst:
Be "Justice" the war-shout, and dastard is he
Who would scruple to die 'neath the Flag of the Free!
'Tis the fairest unfurl'd o'er the land or the wave;
But though brightest in story and matchless in fight,
'Tis the herald of Mercy as well as of Might.
In the cause of the wrong'd may it ever be first—
When tyrants are humbled and fetters are burst:
Be "Justice" the war-shout, and dastard is he
Who would scruple to die 'neath the Flag of the Free!
It may trail o'er the halyards—a bullet-torn rag,
Or flutter in shreds from the battlement-crag;
Let the shot whistle through it as fast as it may,
Till it sweep the last glorious tatter away.
What matter! we'd hoist the blue jacket on high,
Or the soldier's red sash from the spearhead should fly:
Though it were but a ribbon, the foeman should see
The proud signal, and own it—the Flag of the Free!
Or flutter in shreds from the battlement-crag;
Let the shot whistle through it as fast as it may,
Till it sweep the last glorious tatter away.
What matter! we'd hoist the blue jacket on high,
Or the soldier's red sash from the spearhead should fly:
Though it were but a ribbon, the foeman should see
The proud signal, and own it—the Flag of the Free!
Have we ever look'd out from a far foreign shore,
To mark the gay pennon each passing ship bore;
And watch'd every speck that arose on the foam,
In hope of glad tidings from country and home?—
Has our straining eye caught the loved colours at last,
And seen the dear bark bounding on to us fast?
Then, then have our hearts learned how precious can be
The fair streamer of England—the Flag of the Free!
To mark the gay pennon each passing ship bore;
And watch'd every speck that arose on the foam,
In hope of glad tidings from country and home?—
Has our straining eye caught the loved colours at last,
And seen the dear bark bounding on to us fast?
Then, then have our hearts learned how precious can be
The fair streamer of England—the Flag of the Free!
93
