William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Last RevolutionaryJesse Erskine Dow (18091850)
O!
Who braved the battle’s storm of fire,
When war’s wild halo fill’d the glen,
And lit each humble village spire;
When hill sent back the sound to hill,
And might was right, and law was will.
Beat back the pride of England’s might,
Whose stalwart arm laid low the crests
Of many an old and valiant knight;
When evening came with murderous flame,
And liberty was but a name?
Like spectres on a misty shore;
Before them rolls the dreadful storm,
And hills send forth their rills of gore;
Around them death with lightning breath
Is twining an immortal wreath.
They conquer! Freedom’s banner waves
Above Oppression’s broken ranks,
And withers o’er her children’s graves;
And loud and long the pealing song
Of jubilee is borne along.
Goes swiftly down behind the wave,
And there I see a gray-hair’d one,
A special courier to the grave;
He looks around on vale and mound,
Then falls upon his battle-ground.
Now changed like him, and still and cold;
The blood that gave young freedom birth
No longer warms the warrior old;
He waves his hand with stern command,
Then dies, the last of Glory’s band.