Oh, the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing,

    O'er files arrayed

    With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing!

When hearts are all high beating,

And the trumpet's voice repeating

    That song, whose breath

    May lead to death,

But never to retreating.

Oh the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing

  O'er files arrayed

  With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing.

Yet, 'tis not helm or feather—

For ask yon despot, whether

  His plumed bands

  Could bring such hands

And hearts as ours together.

Leave pomps to those who need 'em—

Give man but heart and freedom,

  And proud he braves

  The gaudiest slaves

That crawl where monarchs lead 'em.

The sword may pierce the beaver,

Stone walls in time may sever,

  'Tis mind alone,

  Worth steel and stone,

That keeps men free for ever.

Oh that sight entrancing,

When the morning's beam is glancing,

  O'er files arrayed

  With helm and blade,

And in Freedom's cause advancing!