Happy 234th Birthday to the United States of America!

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In celebration of our independence from Great Britain, here’s the third and best stanza of the “Star-Spangled Banner”:

And where is that band who 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 of 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!

Granted, the song’s about our second war against Britain, not the first as would be most appropriate for this day, but you’ve got to love the brass of telling one of the world’s most powerful empires that you’re going to wash away their footprints with their own blood.

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Before Francis Scott Key wrote what would become our national anthem, various poets would write patriotic or political songs set to the tune of “To Anacreon in Heaven”–the drinking song on which our anthem is based. For instance, here’s “Adams and Liberty,” written by Robert Treat Paine in 1798:

Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought,
For those rights, which unstained from your Sires had descended,
May you long taste the blessings your valour has brought,
And your sons reap the soil which their fathers defended.
‘Mid the reign of mild Peace,
May your nation increase,
With the glory of Rome, and the wisdom of Greece;
And ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

In a clime, whose rich vales feed the marts of the world,
Whose shores are unshaken by Europe’s commotion,
The trident of Commerce should never be hurled,
To incense the legitimate powers of the ocean.
But should pirates invade,
Though in thunder arrayed,
Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade.
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

The fame of our arms, of our laws the mild sway,
Had justly ennobled our nation in story,
‘Till the dark clouds of faction obscured our young day,
And enveloped the sun of American glory.
But let traitors be told,
Who their country have sold,
And bartered their God for his image in gold,
That ne’er will the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

While France her huge limbs bathes recumbent in blood,
And Society’s base threats with wide dissolution;
May Peace like the dove, who returned from the flood,
Find an ark of abode in our mild constitution
But though Peace is our aim,
Yet the boon we disclaim,
If bought by our Sov’reignty, Justice or Fame.
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

‘Tis the fire of the flint, each American warms;
Let Rome’s haughty victors beware of collision,
Let them bring all the vassals of Europe in arms,
We’re a world by ourselves, and disdain a division.
While with patriot pride,
To our laws we’re allied,
No foe can subdue us, no faction divide.
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

Our mountains are crowned with imperial oak;
Whose roots, like our liberties, ages have nourished;
But lone e’er our nation submits to the yoke,
Not a tree shall be left on the field where it flourished.
Should invasion impend,
Every grove would descend,
From the hill-tops, they shaded, our shores to defend.
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

Let our patriots destroy Anarch’s pestilent worm;
Lest our Liberty’s growth should be checked by corrosion;
Then let clouds thicken round us; we heed not the storm;
Our realm fears no shock, but the earth’s own explosion.
Foes assail us in vain,
Though their fleets bridge the main,
For our altars and laws with our lives we’ll maintain.
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

Should the Tempest of War overshadow our land,
Its bolts could ne’er rend Freedom’s temple asunder;
For, unmoved, at its portal, would Washington stand,
And repulse, with his Breast, the assaults of the thunder!
His sword, from the sleep
Of its scabbard would leap,
And conduct, with its point, ev’ry flash to the deep!
For ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

Let Fame to the world sound America’s voice;
No intrigues can her sons from their government sever;
Her pride is her Adams; Her laws are his choice,
And shall flourish, till Liberty slumbers for ever.
Then unite heart and hand,
Like Leonidas’ band,
And swear to the God of the ocean and land;
That ne’er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.

Note that there’s less blatant anti-British sentiment than in Key’s song, though Paine does take some potshots at France, Rome, and anarchists, all while working in a reference to Leonidas at Thermopylae. That’s an anthem. A Jeffersonian poem would probably have been a bit different.

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P.S. Happy 138th Birthday to Calvin Coolidge!