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Seite 26 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame ; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Seite 26 - This was their welcome home! There were men with hoary hair Amidst that pilgrim band; — Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.
Seite 108 - Oh ! 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 rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through, the night that our flag was still there.
Seite 108 - And the rockets' 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?
Seite 109 - 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!
Seite 108 - 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, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Seite 108 - 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?
Seite 109 - Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-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:
Seite 59 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour.