Then let clouds thicken round us: we heed not the storm;
Our realm feels no shock but the earth’s own explosion.
Foes assail us in vain,
Though their fleets bridge the main;
For our altars and laws with our lives we’ll maintain;
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.
Should the tempest of war overshadow our land,
Its bolts could ne’er rend freedom’s temple asunder;
For, unmoved, at its portal would Washington stand,