Toll! Roland, toll!
The Dragon on thy tower
Stands sentry to this hour,
And Freedom so stands safe in Ghent!
And the merrier bells now ring,
And in the land's serene content
Men shout "God save the King!"
Until the skies are rent!
So let it be;
For a kingly king is he
Who keeps his people free!
Toll! Roland, toll!
Ring out across the sea!
No longer They but We
Have now such need of thee!
Toll! Roland, toll!
Forever may thy throat
Keep dumb its warning note
Till Freedom's perils be outbraved!
Toll! Roland, toll!
Till Freedom's flag, wherever waved,
Shall overshadow not a man enslaved!
Toll! Roland, toll!
From Northern lake to Southern strand,
Toll! Roland, toll!
Till friend and foe, at thy command,
Once more shall clasp each other's hand,
And shout, one-voiced, "God save the land!"
And love the land that God hath saved!
Toll! Roland, toll!
T. Tilton.
CCXXVII.
THE MASSACHUSETTS LINE.
Still first, as long and long ago,
Let Massachusetts muster:
Give her the post right next the foe;
Be sure that you may trust her.
She was the first to give her blood
For Freedom and for Honor;
She trod her soil to crimson mud:
God's blessing be upon her!
She never faltered for the right,
Nor ever will hereafter:
Fling up her name with all your might;
Shake roof-tree and shake rafter.
But of old deeds she need not brag,—
How she broke sword and fetter:
Fling out again the old striped Flag;
She'll do yet more and better.
In peace, her sails fleck all the seas;
Her mills shake every river;
And where are scenes so fair as these
God and her true hands give her?
In war, her claim who seek to rob?
All others come in later:
It is hers first to front the Mob,
The Tyrant, and the Traitor.
God bless, God bless, the glorious State!
Let her have way to battle!
She'll go where batteries crash with fate,
Or where thick rifles rattle.
Give her the Right, and let her try;
And then who can may press her;
She'll go straight on, or she will die:
God bless her, and God bless her!
R. Lowell.