Chapter I

Out on the sounding sea,
With a flag of stars and a row of steel,
’Mid the tempest scowl and the battle peal—
The great ship of the free!

Away from her moorings—away o’er the wave—
How proudly she bears the glad hearts of the brave!
In the sun-burst of morning, the darkness of night,
Like a goddess she strives with the gales:
Behold her alone in her glorious might,
With her banners of beauty and streamers of light,
Like a condor when out on his terrible flight,
Where the breath of the tempest prevails.
Hark, hark! ’tis her thunder! her flags are all out,
And the lightning’s the wreath she will wear;
Now it shines on her mast—now ’tis hurried about,
’Mid the ring of the sword and the rapturous shout,
By the breath of the sulphury air.

Why thus is she wrapt in the black-curling smoke?
Why thus have her thunders tumultuously broke
O’er the halls of the dark-rolling wave?
Why thus have her star-crested flags been unfurl’d
Like the wings of some god from the sky to the world?
She battles abroad for the brave!

Proud hope of our land! we have given thy form
To the lord of the breeze and the god of the storm;
We have hung from the top of the high soaring mast
A broad sheet of stripes with the bird
Who cradles his wing in the home of the blast,
When the cloud-troops are angrily hurrying past,
And the voice of the thunder is heard:
We have wet thy scarred decks with the hallowèd blood
Of those who have battled for us on the flood,
And blessed thee with hearts, which the freemen alone
Can possess, when we saw thee sit firm on thy throne
Of the dark-rolling waters.

Go forth, gallant one!—
Go forth in thy glory and pomp o’er the main,
And burst with the might of thy sure-pointed gun
The palace, the cell and the tyrannous chain.
The breezes shall kiss thee: the stars shall illume
Thy pathway when dangers are there,
And around thee the laurels of triumph shall bloom,
Like the plumage of angels abroad on the gloom
Of the battle’s tempestuous air.
Aye! the great god of freedom who holds in his hand
This universe blazing around,
Who walks on the billows which hear his command,
And straight in deep quiet are found:
Aye! he who has yoked, in the ether afar,
The lightning-maned steeds of the storm to his car,
Shall guide thee all safe o’er the foam,
And at last, by the torch of his bright beacon-star,
Restore thee once more to thy home!