With joy each heart swelling, each visage illuming,
Earth brightens where’er it hath been.
The West’s gallant spirits first thrilled to its pealing,
As onward it roll’d to the sea;
Now the North, East, and Center the impulse are feeling,
’Tis the rising and march of the Free!
No portents precede, and no true hearts deplore it,
No bright stars wane dim in the sky;
Misrule’s cohorts faint are alone swept before it,
And quail as its blast hurtles by;