Thomas Campbell

“ Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweeps these lovely plains
Rise, fellow men, our country yet remains,
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear for her to live --with her to die ”

“ Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save,
Where was thine arm, O Vengeance, where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God?
That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from afar?
Where was the storm that slumbered till the host
Of blood stained Pharaoh left their trembling coast,
Tiren bade the deep in wild commotion flow
And heaved on ocean on their march below?
⁠Departed spirits of the Mighty dead,
Ye that at Marrthon and Leucra bled,
Friends of the world, restore your swords to man
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ”

“ His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd:
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm,
Low, murmuring sound along their banner fly,
Revenge or death.—The watchword and reply
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm. ”