with the spirit of liberty and progress. The first of these, indeed, the "Hail, Columbia,” of Joseph Hopkinson, was not a direct product of the Revolutionary War, but was written in 1798, on the occasion of an expected war with France. Yet it was produced ere the fire of the Revolution had died out. We may add that it is of no high value as a poem, and has not sustained its popularity as a song, though its air is still highly welcome to the American ear.

HAIL, COLUMBIA.

Hail, Columbia! happy land!

Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

And when the storm of war was gone,
Enjoyed the peace your valor won.

Let independence be our boast,
Ever mindful what it cost;
Ever grateful for the prize;
Let its altar reach the skies.
Firm-united-let us be,
Rallying round our liberty;
As a band of brothers joined,
Peace and safety we shall find.

Immortal patriots! rise once more;
Defend your rights, defend your shore;
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Invade the shrine where sacred lies
Of toil and blood the well-earned prize.
While offering peace sincere and just,
In heaven we place a manly trust,
That truth and justice will prevail,
And every scheme of bondage fail.
Firm-united, etc.

Sound, sound the trump of Fame!

Let Washington's great name

Ring through the world with loud applause,
Ring through the world with loud applause;
Let every clime to Freedom dear
Listen with a joyful ear.

With equal skill and godlike power
He governs in the fearful hour
Of horrid war, or guides, with ease,
The happier times of honest peace.
Firm-united, etc.

Behold the chief who now commands,
Once more to serve his country stands,-
The rock on which the storm will beat,
The rock on which the storm will beat;
But, armed in virtue firm and true,
His hopes are fixed on heaven and you.
When Hope was sinking in dismay,
And glooms obscured Columbia's day,
His steady mind, from changes free,
Resolved on death or liberty.
Firm-united, etc.

The song of the War of 1812, the "Star-Spangled Banner" of Francis S. Key, possesses far more of poetic power and of patriotic intensity, and seems likely to live long in the affections of the American people as their chosen national ode. The circumstances under which it was written were of a very interesting character. We copy a brief description of them from Cleveland's "Compendium of American Literature:"

In 1814, when the British fleet was at the mouth of the Potomac River, and intended to attack Baltimore, Mr. Key and Mr. Skinner were sent in a vessel with a flag of truce to obtain the release of some prisoners the English had taken in their expedition against Washing

ton. They did not succeed, and were told that they would be detained till after the attack had been made on Baltimore. Accordingly, they went in their own vessel, strongly guarded, with the British fleet as it sailed up the Patapsco; and when they came within sight of Fort McHenry, a short distance below the city, they could distinctly see the American flag flying on the ramparts. As the day closed in, the bombardment of the fort commenced, and Mr. Key and Mr. Skinner remained on deck all night, watching with deep anxiety every shell that was fired. While the bombardment continued, it was sufficient proof that the fort had not surrendered. It suddenly ceased some time before day; but, as they had no communication with any of the enemy's ships, they did not know whether the fort had surrendered or the attack upon it had been abandoned. They paced the deck the rest of the night in painful suspense, watching with intense anxiety for the return of day. At length the light came, and they saw that "our flag was still there," and soon they were informed that the attack had failed. In the fervor of the moment, Mr. Key took an old letter from his pocket and on its back wrote the most of this celebrated song, finishing it as soon as he reached Baltimore. He showed it to his friend Judge Nicholson, who was so pleased with it that he placed it at once in the hands of the printer, and in an hour after it was all over the city, and hailed with enthusiasm, and took its place at once as a national song.

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

I.

Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous

fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly stream

ing;

And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there:
Oh, say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

II.

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream:
'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner; oh, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

III.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war, and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollu-

tion;

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave;
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

IV.

Oh, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation! Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a

nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust;"
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

The patriotic ode of the civil war exists in the stirring trumpetblast of song of Julia Ward Howe's

BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling

camps;

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and

damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring.

lamps:

His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel: ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;

"As

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his

heel,

Since God is marching on."

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call

retreat;

He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment

seat:

Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!

Our God is marching on.