When Tyranny came, his fierce lions aloft
Told the instinct that burned in his cohorts of mail--
But our eagles swooped down, and the battle-field oft,
Was the grave of the foeman,--stern, ghastly and pale.
The cloud of the strife rolled darkly away--
And the carnage-fed wolves slunk back to their den--
While Peace shone around like the god of the day,
And shed her blest light on the children of men.
Bright Star of the West--broad Land of the Free!
The wreath and the anthem are woven for thee!