Oh, how the waiting North rejoiced when Hancock’s sturdy arm prevailed,
Defeated in that last dread charge the flower of the South had failed;
And we have welcomed here tonight the comrades who as conquerors stood,
Whose hands thenceforth were closely linked in one eternal brotherhood.
And while they mourned the tender ties which lay unheeded mid the slain,
Yet not a man would dare proclaim that such as these had died in vain.
Oh, beautiful, and bright, and fair, the glorious banner of the free,
A peerless synonym of right, of hope, of love, of liberty.
And never shall a fold be rent, a color fade, a star be lost,
For freedom sees its azure field with gems of precious blood embossed;
We well may hush our hearts to hear the thrilling dirges sob and die,
Until they almost seem to us like angel whispers floating by.
BLESSED WAS THE NAME SHE BORE.
Wake! oh, nation; wake, and sing!
Bid the “arch of heaven” ring;
Praise, in sweet accord, our pride—
Thirty summers Neptune’s bride.
Kearsarge, a hymn to thee
Floateth over land and sea;
Hark, the chorus! hear it soar—
“Blessed was the name she bore.”
Volumes of heroic verse
Shall thy victories rehearse;
Well may rhythm swiftly chime
To a measure full—sublime
Kearsarge, a hymn to thee
Floateth over land and sea;
Hark, the chorus! hear it soar—
“Blessed was the name she bore.”
Though Roncador—reef of woe—
Like a traitor laid thee low;
As Aurora cleaves the sky,
Rise! the “god of storms” defy.
Kearsarge, a hymn to thee
Floateth over land and sea;
Hark, the chorus! hear it soar—
“Blessed was the name she bore.”
Swift, as light along the hill,
Fly! Columbia’s bosom thrill;
Crucified by flood, by fire—
Come, Futurity, inspire.
Kearsarge, a hymn to thee
Floateth over land and sea;
Hark, the chorus! hear it soar—
“Blessed was the name she bore.”