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AMERICA.

Y country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrim's pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.

My native country, thee—
Land of the noble, free-
Thy name-I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills

Like that above.

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Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song:
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our fathers' God, to Thee,
Author of liberty,

To Thee we sing;

Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,

Great God, our King.

Samuel F. Smith.

THE MARSEILLES HYMN.

E sons of freedom, wake to glory! Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise!

Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries. Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and desolate the land,

While peace and liberty lie bleeding?

To arms to arms! ye brave!

Th' avenging sword unsheathe:

March on! march on ! all hearts resolved
On victory or death.

Now, now, the dangerous storm is rolling, Which treacherous kings confederate raise ; The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, And lo! our fields and cities blaze;

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THE MARSEILLES HYMN.

And shall we basely view the ruin,
While lawless force with guilty stride,
Spreads desolation far and wide,
With crimes and blood his hands imbruing?
To arms to arms! ye brave, &c.

With luxury and pride surrounded,
The vile, insatiate despots dare
(Their thirst of power and gold unbounded),
To mete and vend the light and air.
Like beasts of burden would they load us,
Like gods would bid their slaves adore;
But man is man, and who is more?
Then shall they longer lash and goad us?
To arms to arms! ye brave, &c.

O Liberty, can man resign thee,
Once having felt thy generous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee?
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept, bewailing
That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield;
But freedom is our sword and shield,
And all their arts are unavailing.

To arms to arms! ye brave, &c.

Rouget de l'Isle.

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