And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the thunder!
His sword from the sleep
Of its scabbard would leap,
And conduct, with its point, every flash to the deep!
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.
Let fame to the world sound America’s voice;
No intrigues can her sons from their government sever;
Her pride are her statesmen—their laws are her choice,
And shall flourish till liberty slumbers forever.