 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
THE VICTOR COMES, HUZZA!
Flee, busy care! the god of war
Will guard him in the fray,
And where the rudest dangers are,
His plume is seen to play.
Where martial banners proudly wave,
And flashing blades appear,
There moves the leader of the brave,
His heart unknown to fear
The routed foe, retreating,
To freemen yield the day;
The roll of joy is beating,
The field is ours, huzza!
Will guard him in the fray,
And where the rudest dangers are,
His plume is seen to play.
Where martial banners proudly wave,
And flashing blades appear,
There moves the leader of the brave,
His heart unknown to fear
The routed foe, retreating,
To freemen yield the day;
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The field is ours, huzza!
My hero claims the brightest wreath,
The loudest note of fame,
Let Music's voice his praises breath,
And bards repeat his name.
He comes to bless my longing arms,
And cheer his lonely bride;
Safe from the battle's rude alarms,
He comes in martial pride.
He comes with smiles returning,
In triumph's glittering car;
The torch of joy is burning,
The victor comes, huzza!
The loudest note of fame,
Let Music's voice his praises breath,
And bards repeat his name.
He comes to bless my longing arms,
And cheer his lonely bride;
Safe from the battle's rude alarms,
He comes in martial pride.
He comes with smiles returning,
In triumph's glittering car;
The torch of joy is burning,
The victor comes, huzza!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |