Robert Stevenson Coffin (1797–1827)

WHEN Freedom midst the battle-storm

Her weary head reclined;

When round her fair majestic form,

Oppression fain had twined;

Amidst the din, beneath the cloud

Great Washington appear’d:

His daring hand roll’d back the shroud,

And thus the sufferer cheer’d:

Spurn, spurn despair!—Be great, be free!

With giant strength arise;

Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty,

Thy flag plant in the skies!

Clothe, clothe thyself in glory’s robe,

Let stars thy banners gem;

Rule, rule the sea—possess the globe—

Wear victory’s diadem;

Go, tell the world a world is born,

Another orb gives light;

Another sun illumes the morn,

Another star the night;

Be just, be brave!—and let thy name

Henceforth Columbia be;

Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame,

The wreath of Liberty!

He said—and, lo! the stars of night

Forth to her banner flew;

And morn, the pencil dipp’d in light,

Her blushes on it drew.

Columbia’s chieftain seized the prize,

(All gloriously unfurl’d,)

Flew with it to the native skies,

And waved it o’er the world!