 | Poems, chiefly occasional, by the late Mr. Cliffton |  |
SONG.
Soul of Columbia, quenchless spirit, come!
Unroll thy standard to the sullen sky,
Bind on thy war robes, beat the furious drum,
Rouse, rouse, thy Lion Heart, and fire thy Eagle eye.
Unroll thy standard to the sullen sky,
Bind on thy war robes, beat the furious drum,
Rouse, rouse, thy Lion Heart, and fire thy Eagle eye.
Dost thou not hear the hum of gathering war;
Dost thou not know
The insidious Foe
Yokes her gaunt wolves, and mounts her midnight ear.
Dost thou not know
The insidious Foe
Yokes her gaunt wolves, and mounts her midnight ear.
97
Dost thou not hear thy tortur'd seamen's cries?
Poor hapless souls in dreary dungeons laid;
Towards thee they turn their dim, imploring eyes:
Alas! they sink—and no kind hand to aid.
Poor hapless souls in dreary dungeons laid;
Towards thee they turn their dim, imploring eyes:
Alas! they sink—and no kind hand to aid.
Thou dost, and every son of thine
Shall rest in guilty peace no more;
With noble rage they pant to join,
The conflict's heat, the battle's roar.
Shall rest in guilty peace no more;
With noble rage they pant to join,
The conflict's heat, the battle's roar.
Loose to the tempest let thy banner fly,
Rouse, rouse thy Lion Heart and fire thy eagle eye.
Rouse, rouse thy Lion Heart and fire thy eagle eye.
| Poems, chiefly occasional, by the late Mr. Cliffton | |