What arm a sinking State can save,
From Faction's pyre, or Anarch's grave?
Pale Liberty, with haggard eyes,
Looks round her realm, and thus replies,
Rule New-England! New-England rules and saves!
Columbians never, never shall be slaves.

New-England, first in Freedom's Van,
To toil and bleed for injured man,
Still true to virtue, dares to say,
Order is Freedom — Man, obey!
Rule, &c.
Gloomed, like Cimmeria's beamless day,
Our realm in misted error lay,
Delusion drugged a nation's veins;
And Truth was philtered in her chains.
Rule, &c.

'Twas now the witching time of night,
When grave yards yawn, and spectres fright;
While patriot fiends, with daemon glare,
Flash, shriek and hurtle in the air!
Rule, &c.

Alone, amid the coil serene,
New-England stands, and braves the scene,
Majestic as she lifts her eye,
The stars appear — the daemons fly.
Rule, &c.

At length the dawn, like that, which first
Upon primeval Chaos burst,
Athwart our clime its radiance throws,
And blushes at the wrecks, it shows.
Rule, &c.

Old Massachusetts' hundred hills
Awake and chaunt the matin song;
A realm's acclaim the welkin fills,
The federal Sun returns with Strong.
Rule, &c.

And thou, pale orb of waning light,
Democracy, thou changeling Moon,
Art doomed to wheel thy maniac flight,
Unseen amid the cloudless Noon.
Rule, &c.