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274

And proudly hath it floated Through the battles of the sea, When the red-cross flag o'er smoke-wreaths play'd   Like the lightning in its glee.

On rock, on wave, on bastion, Its echoes have been known, By a thousand streams the hearts lie low, That have answered to its tone.

A thousand ancient mountains Its pealing note hath stirr'd; —Sound on, and on, for evermore, O thou victorious word!