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THE YEAR OF VICTORIES.
He rent resisting traitor-hosts, and filled with righteous spoil our hands;
He smote their cannon-guarded coasts; he rode victorious through their lands;
Our flag he flung from tower and mast o'er many a conquered fort and mere;
Beneath the yawning seas he cast full many a prowling privateer.
He smote their cannon-guarded coasts; he rode victorious through their lands;
Our flag he flung from tower and mast o'er many a conquered fort and mere;
Beneath the yawning seas he cast full many a prowling privateer.
He touched the bondman, burden-bowed, long taught the gory lash to dread—
Straight rose a soldier, free and proud—oh then it was the master bled!
He swept the harp of freemen's souls, till all its rising murmurings
Rolled forth in thunder from the polls, and shook the very thrones of kings!
Straight rose a soldier, free and proud—oh then it was the master bled!
He swept the harp of freemen's souls, till all its rising murmurings
Rolled forth in thunder from the polls, and shook the very thrones of kings!
From torrid plains to northern snows his rhythmic praise of heroes rang,
Till swift, impetuous boyhood rose, and rushed to dare the deeds he sang;
And ah, in lines of vivid light that gild our grand Columbian lore,
What deathless names we saw him write beside the deathless names of yore!
Till swift, impetuous boyhood rose, and rushed to dare the deeds he sang;
And ah, in lines of vivid light that gild our grand Columbian lore,
What deathless names we saw him write beside the deathless names of yore!
Farewell, farewell, O passing Year! thy wingèd bark shall stay its flight
