William Cliffton (1772–1799)

SOUL of Columbia! quenchless spirit, come!

Unroll thy standard to the sullen sky!

Bind on thy war-robes, beat thy furious drum:

Rouse, rouse thy lion heart, and fire thy eagle eye.

Dost thou not hear the hum of gathering war?

Dost thou not know

The insidious foe

Yokes her gaunt wolves and mounts her midnight car?

Dost thou not hear thy tortured seamen’s cries?

Poor, helpless souls, in dreary dungeons laid;

Towards thee they turn their dim, imploring eyes;

Alas! they sink—and no kind hand to aid.

Thou dost, and every son of thine

Shall rest in guilty peace no more;

With noble rage, they pant to join

The conflict’s heat, the battle’s roar.

Loose to the tempest let the banner fly;

Rouse, rouse thy lion’s heart, and fire thy eagle eye.