Kitabı oku: «The Story of Our Flag», sayfa 5
CHILDREN OF JOHN AND BETSY ROSS CLAYPOOLE
THE OLD KEY MANSION
The old Key mansion is one of the historic places that still remains on the banks of the Potomac in Georgetown, to remind us that here lived Francis Scott Key, the author of the national hymn “The Star Spangled Banner.” In unveiling to him the monument which had been erected at Fredericksburg, Maryland, during the past summer (1898), the Hon. Murat Halsted paid an eloquent tribute to this poet, who crystallized the best thought of the American people in giving to them “The Star Spangled Banner.” “O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave,” this flag still waves. Freedom to-day has a broader meaning than in the days of 1814. Slavery has been abolished and freedom has spread her wings o’er all the land. The history of the writing of this beautiful song can be told in a few words. It was an inspiration. The British had captured a friend of Francis Scott Key, Dr. Beans, and when Key heard of it, he called upon President Madison, who furnished him with a vessel to go to the British Admiral Cockburn’s ship, to endeavor to secure his release. General Ross, of the British army, agreed to release him, but insisted upon Key’s remaining on the admiral’s ship until after the bombardment of Fort McHenry, which was then taking place. Key was intensely anxious and in the early morning, he looked across to the fort and saw that “the flag was still there.” It is said that he then wrote a sketch of the “Star Spangled Banner” on the back of a letter. The burning of the capitol and of the White House a few days previous by them are well known matters of history. A few days after, the British fleet sailed for Baltimore, where they were gallantly repulsed with the loss of their commander, General Ross. The fleet in passing Mount Vernon, lowered their flags out of respect to the memory of the immortal Washington, whose remains are here entombed.
Key was born in Frederick county, Maryland, August 1, 1779. He graduated at St. John’s College, Annapolis, Maryland.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER
Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming.
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming;
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there!
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
On that shore, dimly seen through the mist of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream.
’Tis the star-spangled banner, oh, long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
And where is that foe which so vauntingly swore,
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps’ pollution;
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror or flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand,
Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation;
Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, “In God is our trust”;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
—Francis Scott Key, 1814.
COPYRIGHT 1898, BY ADDIE G. WEAVER.
INVOCATION TO THE FLAG
Dedicated to the D. A. R.’s
Our own dear flag, the stripes and stars,
In peace like “bird of promise” flying.
When War’s dread battles fiercely wage,
All tyranny and wrong defying.
Legions beneath its beckoning folds,
Start at the sound of bugle calling.
Eager to lift oppression’s yoke,
From fainting brothers, bravely falling.
Lead on, dear flag, our heroes true,
O’er mountain pass and wild savanna.
Till victories by their prowess won.
Ring a new nation’s glad hozanna.
Float o’er them where they bravely stand,
The bursting shell and cannon daring,
And glory wreathe their chaplets fair,
Who fall, another’s burden sharing.
Wave proudly on, where hastening ships
Sweep the white wave, like tempest flying.
Give freedom to the toiling slave,
Give life to Cuba’s children dying.
Shine on, bright stars, glad folds unroll
O’er far-off islands care beseeching,
Lighten old Afric’s age of night,
Give aid to Asia’s millions reaching.
On wings of dawn, where Orient smiles,
To gates of sunset, ocean laving.
Bear light and hope, while earth shall hail,
Our flag, for right and freedom waving.
June 14th, 1898.CARRIE P. GUTHRIE.
UNFURL THE FLAG
By Rev. Artemas Jean Haynes, Pastor Plymouth Church, Chicago
Unfurl the flag! the flag of freedom’s birth—
The stainless banner of our loyal host;
Unfurl the flag! proclaim to all the earth
That war for conquest is not Freedom’s boast.
Shake out the crimson folds in God’s great strife—
Our country’s pledge to liberty and life.
Unfurl the flag! stand forth in Christ’s own name—
For God’s dread day of Judgment is at hand;
Unfurl the flag! and smite with sudden shame,
Relentless tyrants from our sisterland.
Each waving fold of white, each star shall bear
Our love to those whose griefs we seek to share.
Unfurl the flag! we battle not for gain—
We march as those who march to right a wrong;
Unfurl the flag! not to avenge the slain,
Unfurl it for the weak who trust the strong:
Fling out the blue! our battle flag unfurled—
Warfare for love, and freedom for the world.
Unfurl the flag! red, white and blue wave high—
Wave on to battle every loyal son;
Unfurl the flag! hear Thou, O God, our cry—
Blaze Thou the way until our task be done;
Until the night falls on the hosts of wrong,
And morning breaks to Freedom’s triumph song.
THE AMERICAN FLAG
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 glorious dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white
With streakings of the morning’s 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 warriors 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’us smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings 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;
And yet the life blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier’s eye shall brightly turn,
To where thy 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.
There shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink 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 thy 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!
Fitz Greene Halleck wrote the last four lines of this poem
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC
This beautiful song, which is set to the tune of “John Brown,” was written by Julia Ward Howe in 1861 just after her escape from a rebel raid when witnessing, with friends, a review of troops near Washington. In her dreams she was inspired by the beautiful thoughts and she immediately arose, and hastily noted them down.
It is considered one of the grandest battle hymns of the Republic and has been a favorite with several of our presidents.
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible, swift sword,
His truth is marching on!
I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps,
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps,
His day is marching on!
There read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal!
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on!”
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat!
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet,
Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.
CHICKAMAUGA
This beautiful poem was written during the late war with Spain, and is inserted here, as entwined among the lines there is a sentiment that appeals to the hearts of the whole people.
CHICKAMAUGA
They are camped on Chickamauga!
Once again the white tents gleam
On that field where vanished heroes
Sleep the sleep that knows no dream.
There are shadows all about them
Of the ghostly troops to-day,
But they light the common campfire—
Those who wore the blue and gray.
Where the pines of Georgia tower,
Where the mountains kiss the sky,
On their arms the nation’s warriors
Wait to hear the battle cry.
Wait together, friends and brothers,
And the heroes ’neath their feet
Sleep the long and dreamless slumber
Where the flowers are blooming sweet.
Sentries, pause, yon shadow challenge!
Rock-ribbed Thomas goes that way—
He who fought the foes unyielding
In that awful battle fray.
Yonder pass the shades of heroes,
And they follow where Bragg leads
Through the meadows and the river,
But no ghost the sentry heeds.
Field of fame, a patriot army
Treads thy sacred sod to-day!
And they’ll fight a common foeman,
Those who wore the blue and gray,
And they’ll fight for common country,
And they’ll charge to victory
’Neath the folds of one brave banner—
Starry banner of the free!
They are camped on Chickamauga,
Where the green tents of the dead
Turn the soil into a glory
Where a nation’s heart once bled;
But they’re clasping hands together
On this storied field of strife—
Brothers brave who meet to battle
In the freedom-war of life!
—Baltimore News.
THE BON HOMME RICHARD FLAG
This historic old flag, also known as the Paul Jones Flag, composed of thirteen bars and but twelve stars, was unfurled by him and borne on the Bon Homme Richard September 23, 1776, during the action with the British frigate, the “Serapis,” and is probably the first flag bearing the stars and stripes ever hoisted over an American vessel of war, and also the first ever saluted by a foreign naval power.
This flag has been in the family of Mrs. H. R. P. Stafford, of Cottage City, Martha’s Vineyard, since 1784, and bequeathed by her to the National Museum at Washington.
But it must be remembered that Washington adopted the flag made by Betsy Ross five months previous to this.
“THE OLD THIRTEEN.”
A Leaf from Illinois’ History
In the little city of Shawneetown which is next in age to Kaskaskia, and consequently the second oldest town in the State, there reposes a relic of rare value, a genuine flag of Colonial days. It was found in the attic of the “Posey” building and is supposed to have been placed there by General Posey, who served under Washington in the Revolutionary war. The flag is now owned by Mr. Robinson, an eminent scientist, who for a life-time has taken pains to collect and preserve many valuable things for Illinois’ posterity to see, especially rare Indian curios excavated from in and around Shawneetown, which site was once the pottery of the Shawanee Indians.
The old flag is in rather a good state of preservation although faded and marred. Its thirteen stars are arranged similar to those on “Paul Jones’ flag”—in bars, but not horizontal. The rows of stars are placed diagonally and consist of one, three, five, three and one, which leaves a star in each corner and five forming the center diagonal. Illinois’ “Old Thirteen” has been framed and covered with glass to preserve it from the ravages of Time and to save it for the eyes of the children of coming generations.
