From cliff to cliff the gallant army spring,
Nor envy now the eagle's soaring wing;
They view their labors o'er, their object gain,
And proudly stand upon the lovely plain;
Gaze down upon the awful scenes they've passed,
Rejoicing that they've reached the heights at last.
Hope lights each eye and fills each manly breast,
Where wild desires and aspirations rest;
It bids each doubt and every shadow flee,
And points them on to certain victory!
The morning dawned; the orient beams of light
Fell on a strange and a romantic sight,--
On glistening helmet and on nodding crest,
On waving banner and on steel-clad breast.
The city woke,--but woke to hear the cry,
"To arms! to arms! the foe--the foe is nigh!"
She woke to hear the trumpet's wild alarms--
She woke to hear the sound of clashing arms--
She woke to view her confidence removed--
She woke to view her trusted safety proved;
Her mighty bulwarks, long her pride and boast,
All safely mounted by a British host--
She woke to view her lofty ramparts yield,
Her plains converted to a battle-field,
Her gallant troops in wild disorder fly,
The British banner floating to the sky,
And proudly waving o'er the bloody plain,
O'er heaps of dying and o'er heaps of slain.
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