Bright banner of Columbia,
A fragment of the sky,
Torn down with all thy glitt’ring stars--
Angelic blazonry!
Stream onward, like the fiery cloud
That hung o’er Egypt’s sea,
Terror and darkness to the proud,
A light to guide the free.
Bright banner of Columbia!
Thou glory’st not in blood;
Yet, if the foe invade our land,
The foe shall be withstood;
A death-grasp shall his welcome be,
A bloody turf his pillow,
And on the battle-wave he’ll find
A tomb in every billow.
Dark banner of oppression,
Droop o’er thy millions slain!
All stained with floods of human gore,
Thou ne’er shalt wave again;
Save when the wail of misery,
The orphan’s plaintive cry,
And the widow’s moan amid thy folds,
Shall breathe in agony.
But thou, my country’s banner,
Unstained by guilt or crime,
Shalt wave o’er every tyrant-flag,
Until the end of time:
For Peace lies nestling in thy wings,
And each emblazoned star
Sheds down its sweetest influence
To heal the wounds of war.
Then wave thou on for ages,
O’er mountain, lake and sea,
For God has stamped upon thy folds
His word--ETERNITY.
Yet when the earth’s by thee forsaken,
No mortal shall weep o’er thee,
For the dread Archangel’s trump shall be
The requiem of thy glory.
Then, banner of my country,
Shalt thou be upward borne,
To gild again thy native skies,
From which thou once wert torn;
For thy earthly mission’s over,
To the dust oppression’s hurled;
Thou’st struck to none but a deathless power,
’Mid the wrecks of a falling world.
Avena.
STORY AND SENTIMENT, OR, CONVERSATIONS WITH A MAN OF TASTE AND
IMAGINATION.
No. 3.