THE AMERICAN FLAG.
Reading edition
Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) wrote "The American Flag" as a mere fugitive contribution to the Evening Post when he was little more than twenty-one. It belonged to a series of hastily written verses to which the author attached no value. Long afterward a friend of his—a Dr. DeKay—carefully gathered together these stray poems, and showed them to Drake, who said:
"Oh, burn them up! They are worthless."
Fortunately, his friend refused to burn them; and thus one of the finest gems of our national poetry was rescued. Tradition tells us that the last eight lines of "The American Flag" were added to the original draft by Drake's friend and fellow poet, Fitz-Greene Halleck.
By JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night And set the stars of glory there! She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land! Majestic monarch of the cloud, Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumpings loud And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warrior of the storm And rolls the thunder drum of heaven— Child of the sun, to thee 'tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle stroke And bid its blending shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory! Flag of the brave, thy folds shall fly The sign of hope and triumph high! When speaks the signal trumpet tone And the long line comes gleaming on, Ere yet the lifeblood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier eye shall brightly turn To where the sky-born glories burn And as his springing steps advance Catch war and vengeance from the glance, And when the cannon mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud. And gory sabers rise and fall Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall; Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall shrink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas, on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave! When death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee And smile to see the splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given, Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven! Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With freedom's soil beneath our feet And freedom's banner streaming o'er us?