James C. Holland

WHEN Freedom first the triumph sung,

That crush’d the pomp of Freedom’s foes,

The harps of Heaven responsive rung,

As thus the choral numbers rose:

Rise, Columbia! brave and free!

Thy thunder when in battle hurl’d,

Shall ride the billows of the sea,

And bid defiance to the world!

Supremely blest by Fate’s decree,

Thy hardy tars in battle brave,

Shall plume thy wings, and keep thee free

As is the motion of thy wave;
Rise, Columbia! &c.

The stars that in thy banner shine,

Shall rain destruction on thy foes,

Yet light the brave of every clime,

To kindred friendship and repose;
Rise, Columbia! &c.

The storms that on thy surges rock,

Around thy flag shall idly sweep,

Proof to the tempest’s fiercest shock,

Its stripes shall awe the vassal deep.
Rise, Columbia! &c.

Encircled with a flood of light,

Thy eagle shall supremely rise,

Lead thee to victory in fight,

And bear thy victory to the skies.
Rise, Columbia! &c.