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HAIL! hail to the land of Liberty's birth,

The sweet sunny clime she loves best,
The home of her heart, and the Eden of earth,

Columbia, the Queen of the West !
On each hand giant oceans are sleeping,

Lake pearls on her brow glitter sweet,
O’er the Gulf come the blue billows sweeping,

And kiss the white sands at her feet.

Her yeomen defend their homes on the shore,

Her bold sailors sweep the deep sea,
And battle may rage, or tempest may roar,

But God guards the home of the free;


And the heart that the tyrant is crushing,

'Mid Europe's oppression and wars, To the standard of freedom comes rushing,

And clings to the stripes and the stars !

From Maine's snowy hills with cloud kissing pines,

To Florida's blossom-clad glades, To the new realm of Gold with its glittering mines,

Its prairies, and dark forest shades,
Not a knee of a mortal there bendeth

In all the wide land to a throne,
But the hymn of the million ascendeth

For a God and a land of our own!

Then hail! to young Freedom, who rides on the storm,

Like Jove, with his thunder-bird bold,
In the high blue of heaven we see her fair form,

While we kneel, and we bless to behold,
And we shout, with our voices in chorus,

Bright Land! be thy name ever blest ! While the spirit of Washington o'er us

Smiles on the young Queen of the West I


COME! speed away, the breeze grows louder,

The sun sets red in Ocean's bed, The waves like steeds their manes fling prouder,

They leap and spread and toss each head; The ruddy clouds to westward gleaming,

Send forth the gale which swells our sail, Above our heads the sea-bird screaming

The black storm rides, dark waves grow pale!

Afar! we hear the thunder sounding,

The sky grows dark above our bark, O'er roaring billows far rebounding

Light as a lark sweeps on our ark ! Now red we see the beacon blazing,

Whose gleams illume the seas of gloom, And on the shore behold those gazing, Who deem our doom an ocean tomb !

Fear not! although the billow springing,

Mid tempest loud should kiss the cloud, We, like the white bird o'er us winging,

Will not be bowed, but meet it proud, Behold! the haven swift we're gaining,

Which wooes each guest to give him rest, And soon fond eyes will fast be raining,

Of maids close pressed to lover's breast !



COME let us sing

Life's silver string
But half its songs hath spoken,

And in the soul

Love's golden bowl
Lies by the well unbroken;

Then seize the lute,

Nor deem Mirth's fruit
The apples of Gomorrah,

Since Joy and Bliss

The tear drops kiss
From off the cheek of Sorrow.

The day but shows

Its gloom to those
Who live amid repining,

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