Long, long in triumph's bright array, That victory shall proudly rise: And when our country's lights are gone, And all its proudest days are o'er, JAMES GATES PERCIVAL. THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER. Sept. 14, 1813. Ο After the British had brutally burned the Capitol at Washington, in August, 1813, they retired to their ships, and on September 12th and 13th, they made an attack on Baltimore. This poem was written on the morning after the Bombardment of Fort McHenry, while the author was a prisoner on the British fleet. H! say can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still. there; Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep 'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh! long may it wave O'er the land of the free and home of the brave! And where is the band who so vauntingly swore, Mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, No refuge could save the hireling and slave Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved home and the war's desolation; Blessed with victory and peace, may the Heaven-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave FRANCIS SCOTT KEY. THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. Jan. 8, 1815, The treaty of peace between Great Britain and the United States was signed at Ghent, December 14, 1814; but before the news crossed the ocean, Pakenham, with twelve thousand British veterans, attacked New Orleans defended by Andrew Jackson with five thousand Americans, mostly militia. The British were repulsed with a loss of two thousand; the American loss was trifling. H' ERE, in my rude log cabin, Few poorer men there be Among the mountain ranges Of Eastern Tennessee. My limbs are weak and shrunken, My sole companion now. Yet I, when young and lusty, Have gone through stirring scenes, For I went down with Carroll To fight at New Orleans. |