William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Gathering of 76Edward J. Porter
D
And chain’d the billowy swell
Of ocean; not a breath was there
To break its hushing spell;
When mid the forest pines that waved
On mountain heights afar,
The voice of Freedom wildly raved,
Waking the land to war.
That heard its thrilling tone;
All, all rush’d forth in strength array’d,
Where’er the sound had flown;
And Freedom’s banner floated high,
While aspirations rose;
And noble hearts resolved to die,
Or win the land’s repose.
Of gleaming helm and spear,
Nor trappings glancing through the skies,
That courtly war-steeds wear;
No high baronial halls of pride
Their knightly trains sent forth,
Nor feudal trumpets, pealing wide
Waked chivalry to birth.
And breathed the wakening strain,
And swept the bosom chords of all,
Nor touch’d a string in vain;
And fanning with her snowy wing
Each fire that dormant lay,
Roused from its silent slumbering
One bright, resistless ray.
And forests waving wide;
It burn’d upon the glancing rills,
And flush’d old ocean’s tide;
Till, like a comet’s wakening,
Each orb had caught the glow,
And gladness shook her silver string,
And waked proud hearts below.
A noble band and strong,
Impetuous as the wintry wave,
By torrents roll’d along:
A thrill of joy each bosom burn’d,
And brightly lit each eye,
And falchions flash’d, and sheaths were spurn’d,
Their spell-word, “Liberty!”
Or from their valleys rush’d,
Deep vows went up—their battle star,
With Freedom’s gleamings flush’d,
Along its airy path should blaze
In quenchless lustre bright,
Or darkness deeply veil its rays,
And hide in death its light.
How they have dared and done,
Are tales that breathe around each tree,
And glow each stream upon;
They whisper ’mong the lofty pines,
On giant heights that wave,
Where Freedom’s wreath undying shines,
The guerdon of the brave.