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Led by thy conquering standards, Greene,
The Britons they compelled to fly:
None distant viewed the fatal plain,
None grieved in such a cause to die -

But, like the Parthians famed of old,
Who, flying, still their arrows threw,
These routed Britons, full as bold,
Retreated, and retreating slew.

Now rest in peace our patriot band;

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Though far from nature's limits thrown,

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We trust they find a happier land,
A brighter Phoebus of their own.

JOSEPH HOPKINSON

1770-1842

It was fitting that the author of Hail Columbia should be the son of a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Francis Hopkinson, lawyer, wit, and patriot. Joseph Hopkinson was born and died in Philadelphia, where he rose to distinction as a lawyer and as a man of parts. He is chiefly remembered to-day by this one patriotic lyric. It was written in 1798, when the United States seemed on the verge of war with France. Washington had been called from retirement at Mount Vernon to assume charge of the American forces in case war should actually break out. The ode was sung first in Philadelphia at the benefit performance of an actor, but its broader purpose was to allay all bitterness between the two political parties in the United States by appealing in a spirited way to the feeling of national patriotism.

HAIL COLUMBIA

HAIL, Columbia ! happy land!

Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

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Ring through the world with loud applause, Ring through the world with loud applause; Let every clime to Freedom dear,

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Behold the chief who now commands,
Once more to serve his country, stands -
The rock on which the storm will beat,
The rock on which the storm will beat;
But, armed in virtue firm and true,
His hopes are fixed on Heaven and you.
When hope was sinking in dismay,
And glooms obscured Columbia's day,
His steady mind, from changes free,
Resolved on death or liberty.

Firm, united, let us be,
Rallying round our Liberty;
As a band of brothers joined,

Peace and safety we shall find.

FRANCIS SCOTT KEY

1779-1843

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KEY was born in Frederick County, Maryland, and was educated at St. John's College, Annapolis. When the British bombarded Fort McHenry at Baltimore, in 1814, Key was with the British fleet, having gone there to secure the release of a friend who was held prisoner. All night he watched the battle. When he saw the American flag still afloat the next morning, he sat down and wrote The Star-Spangled Banner, one of the most popular of American patriotic songs.

A volume of Key's poems was published at Baltimore in 1859, with an introductory letter by his brother-in-law, Chief Justice Taney. The volume consists largely of occasional pieces that were not originally intended for publication. They add little or nothing to his fame. The greater part of his life was given to the practice of law in Washington.

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

O SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming —

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Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the

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;
O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

On that 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,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream;
'Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

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And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

A home and a country should leave us no more?

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust: 27

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And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

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CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE

1779-1863

THE author of A Visit from St. Nicholas, a household favorite, was born in New York city and educated at Columbia College. For many years he held a professorship in the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church. A collection of his verse was published in 1844, but he is remembered now almost solely by this Christmas piece, with its brisk movement and cheery temper. It was written for his children at Christmas, and was sent without his knowledge to a newspaper, where it appeared anonymously.

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

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