Poems (Welby)/The American Sword
THE AMERICAN SWORD.
Sword of our gallant fathers, defender of the brave,
Of Washington upon the field and Perry on the wave!
Well might Columbia's foemen beneath thy death-strokes reel,
For each hand was firm that drew thee, and each heart as true as steel;
There's not a tarnish on thy sheen, a rust upon thy blade;
Though the noble hands that drew thee are in dust and ashes laid,
Thou'rt still the scourge of tyrants, the safeguard of the free,
And may God desert our banner when we surrender thee!
Of Washington upon the field and Perry on the wave!
Well might Columbia's foemen beneath thy death-strokes reel,
For each hand was firm that drew thee, and each heart as true as steel;
There's not a tarnish on thy sheen, a rust upon thy blade;
Though the noble hands that drew thee are in dust and ashes laid,
Thou'rt still the scourge of tyrants, the safeguard of the free,
And may God desert our banner when we surrender thee!
Sword of a thousand victories! thy splendors led the way,
When our warriors trod the battle-field in terrible array;
Thou wert seen amid the carnage, like an angel in thy wrath;
The vanquished and the vanquisher bestrewed thy gory path;
The life-blood of the haughty foe made red the slippery sod
Where thy crimson blade descended like the lightning glance of God!
They poured their ranks like autumn leaves, their life-blood as the sea,
But they battled for a tyrant—we battled to be free!
When our warriors trod the battle-field in terrible array;
Thou wert seen amid the carnage, like an angel in thy wrath;
The vanquished and the vanquisher bestrewed thy gory path;
The life-blood of the haughty foe made red the slippery sod
Where thy crimson blade descended like the lightning glance of God!
They poured their ranks like autumn leaves, their life-blood as the sea,
But they battled for a tyrant—we battled to be free!
Sword of a thousand heroes, how holy is thy blade,
So often drawn by Valor's arm, by gentle Pity's stayed!
The warrior breathes his vow by thee, and seals it with a kiss,
He never gives a holier pledge, he asks no more than this;
And, when he girds thee to his side with battle in his face,
He feels within his single arm the strength of all his race;
He shrines thee in his noble breast, with all things bright and free;
And may God desert his standard, when he surrenders thee!
So often drawn by Valor's arm, by gentle Pity's stayed!
The warrior breathes his vow by thee, and seals it with a kiss,
He never gives a holier pledge, he asks no more than this;
And, when he girds thee to his side with battle in his face,
He feels within his single arm the strength of all his race;
He shrines thee in his noble breast, with all things bright and free;
And may God desert his standard, when he surrenders thee!
Sword of our country's battles! forever may'st thou prove,
Amid Columbia's freemen, the thunder-bolt of Jove;
Where like a youthful victress, with her holy flag unfurled,
She sits amid the nations, the empress of the world.
Behold the heaven-born goddess, in her glory and increase,
Extending in her lovely hands the olive-branch of peace,
Thy glittering steel is girded on, the safeguard of the free,
And may God desert her standard when she surrenders thee!
Amid Columbia's freemen, the thunder-bolt of Jove;
Where like a youthful victress, with her holy flag unfurled,
She sits amid the nations, the empress of the world.
Behold the heaven-born goddess, in her glory and increase,
Extending in her lovely hands the olive-branch of peace,
Thy glittering steel is girded on, the safeguard of the free,
And may God desert her standard when she surrenders thee!