Farewell to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory 
Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name — 
She abandons me now — but the page of her story, 
The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame. 
I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only 
When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; 
I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, 
The last single Captive to millions in war. 

Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me, 
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, — 
But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee, 
Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. 
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted 
In strife with the storm, when their battles were won — 
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted. 
Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun! 

Farewell to thee, France! — but when Liberty rallies 
Once more in thy regions, remember me then. 
The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys; 
Though wither'd, thy tear will unfold it again. 
Yet, yet, I may baffle the hosts that surround us, 
And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice — 
There are links which must break in the chain that has bound us, 
Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice! 

Fling out the red Banner! its fiery front under,
Come, gather ye, gather ye, Champions of Right!
And roll round the world, with the voice of God's thunder,
The Wrongs we've to reckon, oppressions to smite.
They deem that we strike no more like the old Hero-band,
Victory's own battle-hearted and brave:
Blood of Christ! brothers mine, it were sweet but to see ye stand,
Triumph or Tomb welcome, Glory or Grave!

Fling out the red Banner in mountain and valley!
Let Earth feel the tread of the free once again;
Now soldiers of Freedom, for love of God, rally,
Old Earth yearns to know that her children are Men.
We are nerved by a thousand wrongs, burning and bleeding,
Bold Thoughts leap to birth, but the bold Deeds must come;
And wherever Humanity's yearning and pleading,
One battle for Liberty strike we heart-home.

Fling out the red Banner! achievements immortal
Have yet to be won by the hands labour-brown;
And few, few may enter the proud promise-portal,
Yet wear it in thought like a glorious Crown!
O joy of the onset! sound trumpet, array us;
True hearts would leap up were all hell in our path;
Up, up from the Slave-land; who stirreth to stay us,
Shall fall, as of old, in the Red Sea of wrath.

Fling out the red Banner, O Sons of the morning!
Young spirits abiding to burst into wings,—
We stand shadow-crown'd, but sublime is the warning,
All heaven's grimly husht, and the Bird of Storm sings!
"All's well," saith the Sentry on Tyranny's tower,
While Hope by his watch-fire is grey and tear-blind;
Ay all's well! Freedom's Altar burns, hour by hour,
Live brands for the fire-damp with which ye are mined.

Fling out the red Banner! the patriots perish,
But where their bones whiten the seed striketh root:
Their blood hath run red the great harvest to cherish:
Then gather ye, Reapers, and garner the fruit.
Victory! victory! Tyrants are quaking!
The Titan of Toil from the bloody thrall starts;
The slaves are awaking, the dawn-light is breaking,
The foot-fall of Freedom beats quick at our hearts!