University of Virginia Library

Hail to the Great Republic!
A hundred years ago to-day
Cradled in woods and wilds she lay,
A new-born child, a sturdy thing.
Beside her lair the forests swing,
The storm-winds howl, and roars the river.
Her limbs with life and vigor quiver;
Her red lips burn with hate and ire;
Her eyes are lit with eager fire;
The strong hands clutch, the looks aspire,
The captive lion's fierce desire
Flaming in every ray.

For she who nursed the mighty child
Was savage-born and savage-bred,
Her locks about her bosom shed,
And to her broad, imperial breast
The clinging infant hotly pressed
To drain the immortal passion deep,
To wake the world from sodden sleep
With one sharp, daring cry,
The war-note of her infancy.
For she was born of Freedom's brood.
Her mother trod the awful sea,
And dared the unknown solitude,
To give her child a place to be
Where heaven and earth were free.
They heard her cry at Lexington,
It smote the sky o'er Bunker Hill,
And bade the dead men thrill.
And turn within their graves at Marathon.
A cry the tempest hurled
Far over all the world,
That shook its old domains with mortal fear,
And bade reluctant tyrants hear.

Then in the wide arena Freedom stood,
And dipped the babe in blood.
Blood of the bravest and the best,
Out of the wrathful wine-press flowing,
To set the child's quick pulses glowing,
To fill her lusty limbs with might,
Her eyes with valor's flame to light,
And riot in her swelling breast.
She fed her lips with bitter bread,
That poverty she might not dread:
She bade her sleep to cannon roaring,
To mighty seas down mountains pouring,
To whirlwinds resonant,
And ocean's thundering chant.
Then from her gracious hands bestowed
A sweetness from the summer gathered,
Where the wild bees their treasure stowed;
An arrow from the eagle feathered;
And laid upon her baby brow a sign,
A pledge of corn and wine.
“Go to thy place, my child!” the Goddess said:
“I bind the stars about thine head,
For men shall see that diadem,
And crowd to kiss thy garment's hem.
Be strong and pure; I am thy mother;
There runs no evil blood in thee.
Heed not the voice of any other
Whose vain breath dims thy panoply.
Mighty and awful are the free,
Who grasp and guide their destiny.
Plunged to the lowest hell they be
Who soil and stain the shield thou bearest,
Who bend to dust the crown thou wearest
Go, Freedom's child! be free!”

Then, full-armed, from the mother breast
The Young Republic leapt, her lance in rest.
Alas! the new wine foamed too strong!
Year after year beheld her spring,
Like the great oak that, ring on ring,
Expands its bole and spreads its boughs,
All the wild birds of heaven to house.
And confident in gracious power,
When alien skies began to lower,
She opened wide her arms to all;
She drooped to men her haughty head;
All outcasts to that shelter fled;
They dared on Freedom's name to call,
They stained her spotless shield with clay;
They tore her diadem away.
Ah! where is Freedom's daughter now?
For she hath drunk the cup of wine
Mingled not by hands divine.
Gold and jewels deck the brim
Fashioned not by seraphim;
Vainly her sons deplore,
And stretch their fettered hands in agony.
She sleeps—she dreams—she cannot feel nor see;
Wrapped in the magic web of luxury,
Softly the South-wind lulls her—let her be.

Hurrah for the North-wind!
From mountain and valley
The trumpet awakens!
The sleep mist is soaring,
The mad seas are roaring.
O daughter of Freedom,
Arouse from thy slumber!
The foes be upon thee!
Awake!

Now the earth shivers; from their steady places
Rock the old hills, for over them comes Freedom,
With flashing helm and glaive all bare and shining.
“Awake! awake!” she cries; “awake and hear me;
Child of the Gods, awake!”
She heard and started from her sleep,
Her face with shame and courage red;
She bound the stars about her head,
She bared her arm, she shook her spear;
The drum-roll sounded long and deep:
Once more in blood her feet she laved.
The tigress glaring in her eye,
The banner flaunting in the sky,
She rushed to war; the land was saved.

Daughter of Freedom, hear our votive song!
In virginal array
Girded, and crowned to-day,
Hear us adjure thee; hear us pray!
We gave thee our nearest,
Our best and our dearest;
We gave thee our tears,
Our hopes and our fears,
To strew in thy way
Like blossoms of May;
A sacrifice sweet,
Trodden under thy feet:
Lay thy right hand upon the shrine and say,
By all the patriot blood,
By all thy martyrs slain,
Who in the front of battle stood,
Who dared for thee the fiery flood,
Shall this be all in vain?
All the long hundred years
Of labor, triumph, tears,
Be as the blossom of a day
By zephyrs borne away?
Forbid it all thy mother's agony!
Forbid it those pale ghosts that died for thee!

No. I behold, down the dread slopes of Time,
A woman-vision beauteous and sublime;
Whose mother arms fold all earth's sufferers in,
Her stainless hands destroying shame and sin.
Her head is bent to God the Judge alone,
The wayside rock her sole imperial throne;
Her starry crown uplift in heaven so high
It seems to gazing men the starry sky;
Her deep eyes lit with cheer and peace serene,
Her great heart sweet, her falchion swift and keen,
She broods the nations with her sweeping wings,
And o'er the world her blazoned banner swings.
Hail to the Great Republic!