Oh, brave is the soul of a true Union man! He arms for the battle--he springs to the van, To the war-shout of freemen--the Northern Hurrah! His heart bears no malice--his lips have no lie! For the old Constitution his pulses beat high; And in camp or in action, in march or at rest, ’Tis the love of Our Union that leaps from his breast In the war-shout of freemen--the Northern Hurrah! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Oh, the slogan of Scotland is startling and shrill, And the loud Marseillaise every Frenchman will thrill; But there’s never a shout like the Northern Hurrah! Let the Turkman cry “Allah!” while charging his foe-- And the Briton, “St. George!” with each resolute blow; But the wildest of war-cries, the slogan most grand, Is the chorus that leaps from the heart of our land In the war-shout of freedom--the Northern Hurrah! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! From the mountains of Hampshire, the headlands of Maine, Alleghany’s blue peaks and Nevada’s high chain, Rolleth down, like the thunder, this Northern Hurrah; And the rocks and the vales, and the waters profound, And the forests and prairies re-echo the sound; And the voice of great cities, from east and from west, Swells the shout of the free for the land they love best, In a war-hymn for freedom--the Northern Hurrah! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 33 The Harp of Old Erin and Banner of Stars. AIR--_St. Patrick’s Day_. The war-trump has sounded, our rights are in danger; Shall the brave sons of Erin be deaf to the call, When freedom demands of both native and stranger, Their aid, lest the greatest of nations should fall? Shall this banner, so dear to the exiles of Gael, By traitors and rebels, in anarchy’s school, Be trailed in the dust, disgraced in the vale, While our people, the sov’reign, in equity rule? No: I swear by the love that we bear our old Sire-land, And the vows we have pledged to this home of the free, As we’d sheathe our swords in the foes of dear Ireland, We will use them as freely ’gainst traitors to thee. Need we fear for our cause when true hearts uphold it? See the men of all nations now march to the wars; And shall Erin’s stout hearts stand by and behold it, Nor strike in their might for the Banner of Stars? No, no; with their life’s blood they’ll guard the rich treasure; See how they respond to the call, “Shoulder Arms!” Though endeared by those sacred ties, love beyond measure Of bosom-friends, children, and beauty’s sweet charms, Yet they leave all behind, and equip for the battle Between freedom and rapine, like true sons of Mars; They’ll conquer though traitors their cannon may rattle, And bring back triumphant the Banner of Stars.