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And, Lawrence, thine the deathless meed,

Dear to the brave-as honour dear; Thine was the soul for valour's deed,

And thine was mercy's generous tear. Ne'er gallant spirit tower'd more high, Nor nobler shall in battle die.

And shall the sons of sires who bled,

With foul dishonour stain their graves ? And shall the soil that wraps the dead,

Nurse on its bosom recreant slaves ? Forbid, kind Heaven, the deep disgrace, And save from blast thy chosen race.

Quick, at your country's call, ye brave,

Let from their sheathes your falchions leap, And, where the battle's banners wave,

And where its thunders plough the deep, Instant, ye gallant bands, repair, Resolved to die or conquer there. Lo, where your fathers' spirits rise,

And point the hour of vengeance near,
In lightnings flash their kindling eyes,

And chase affection's lingering tear.
They bid you hasten to the field,
And but with life the victory yield.
Nor dread the onset, Heaven is just :

He who directs the rolling sphere
Shall smite the oppressor to the dust,

And guide the patriot's bright career. Rise, sons of Freedom! rise, once more, And guard from wrongs your native shore.


Tune—“Jefferson and Liberty.
From Mississippi's utmost shore,

From cold New Hampshire's piney hills;
From broad Atlantic's sullen roar,

To where the western ocean swells,-
How loud the notes of joy arise

From every bosom warm and free!
How strains triumphant fill the skies

For Harrison and liberty.
Turn to the scroll, where patriot sires

Your independence did declare,
Whose words still glow like living fires,

His father's name is written there.
That father taught that son to swear

His country ne'er enslaved should be ;
Then lend your voices to the air

For Harrison and Liberty !
O'er savage foes, who scourged our land,

When Wayne so wild and madly burst,
Among his brave and gallant band

The youthful Harrison was first.
And when, on Wabash leafy banks,

Tecumseh's warriors gather'd free;
How swift they fled before the ranks

Of Harrison and Liberty!
When Meigs' heights his army held,

And haughty Britons circled round,
His conquering legions clear'd the field,

While notes of triumph peal'd around !

And though on Thames's tide again

His progress Proctor sought to stay,
Dismay'd he fled, and left the plain

To Harrison and Liberty !
Now honour'd be his hoary age,

Who glory for his country won :-
Shout for the hero, patriot, sage,

For William Henry Harrison:
Of all our chiefs he oftenest fought,

But never lost a victory,
And peace was gain'd, and plenty brought

By Harrison and Liberty !



By a soldier who fought there,
Air0! lonely is the forest shade.
0! lonely is our old green fort,

Where oft, in days of old,
Our gallant soldiers bravely fought

'Gainst savage allies bold;
But with the change of years have pass'd

That unrelenting foe,
Since we fought here with Harrison,

A long time ago.
It seems but yesterday I heard,

From yonder thicket nigh,
The unerring rifle's sharp report,

The Indian's startling cry.
Yon brooklet flowing at our feet,

With crimson gore did flow,

When we fought here with Harrison,

A long time ago.
The river rolls between its banks,

As when of old we came,
Each grassy path, each shady nook,

Seems to me still the same;
But we are scatter'd now, whose faith

Pledged here, through weal or wo,
With Harrison our soil to guard,

A long time ago.
But many a soldier's lip is mute,

And clouded many a brow,
And hearts that beat for honour then,

Have ceased their throbbing now.
We ne'er shall meet again in life

As then we met, I trow,
When we fought here with Harrison,

A long time ago.


OLD TIPPECANOE. HURRAH for the father of all the green west,

For the Buckeye who follows the plough! The foemen in terror his valour confess'd,

And we'll honour the conqueror now. His country assail'd in the darkest of days,

To her rescue impatient he flew ! The war-whoop's fell blast, and the rifle's red blaze,

But awaken’d old Tippecanoe. On Maumee's dark waters, along with brave Wayne,

Green laurels he glean’d with his sword :

But when peace on the country came smiling again,

His steel to the scabbard restored.
But wise in the council, as brave in the field,

His country still ask'd for his aid;
And the birth of young empires his wisdom reveald,

and the statesman display'd. But the red torch of war, the tomahawk's gleam,

To the battle again call'd the true ; And there, where the stars and the stripes brightly

stream, Rush'd the hero of Tippecanoe. Now, hark ! from the far frozen wilds of the north,

What battle-shouts burden the gale ?
The hosts of old England ride gallantly forth,

And the captive and conquer'd bewail.
His country recalls the bold chieftain she loves,

The sword of old Tip she reclaims;
And Victory heralds, wherever he moves,

The path of the hero of Thames ! Hurrah for the hero of Tippecanoe

The farmer who ploughs at North Bend !
A soldier so brave, and a patriot so true,

Will find in each freeman a friend.
Hurrah for the Log Cabin Chief of our choice !

For the old Indian fighter, hurrah!
Hurrah! and from mountain to valley the voice

Of the people re-echoes—hurrah!
Then come to the ballot box-boys, come along,

He never lost battle for you:
Let us down with oppression and tyranny's throng,

And up with old Tippecanoe.

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