  'Tis morning at Manila, The first dawn of the May; Along the eastern horizon We see the light of day. As spreads its golden splendor And drives away the night, The hills that guard the islands Are decked with diamonds bright. The cocoa palms so olden, Now robed in silvered green, Stretch their broad branches heav'nward To golden fields serene. And yon cathedral spire gleams With glory from the skies; The beauty of the Sabbath Across the city lies. A little bay rests softly Among those sun-kissed isles, Reflecting heaven's azure, And basking in God's smiles. Upon its sleeping waters A Spanish squadron lies; Her flags unfurl their folds, and Upon sweet breezes rise. Lo! another fleet approaches, More beauteous and grand; The flag she bears so proudly Has waved o'er Freedom's land! She comes across the billows, And in Freedom's cause to-day The smoke and fire of battle Enfold Manila Bay. Look! on Fort Cavite they're firing! Their efforts now prevail; 'Tis shattered into splinters, And Spanish cheeks grow pale The cannons belch forth thunder! The shells burst thick and fast! With might charge Freedom's heroes, Amid the purple blast. The handsome flagship Reina Christina's sinking now; She's robed in flames and ruin, From th' Olympia's snowy bow. Now all the Spanish squadron, Its proud and dauntless crew, Sinks 'mid the storm of battle, 'Neath troubled waters blue. Nor falls a single hero In Freedom's cause so true, While fighting 'neath the banner That's red and white and blue. The Philippines are freed from All tyrant rule and reign, Avenged the noble sailors On board our gallant Maine! The gory hands of Spain are In ocean waters laved, O'er whose enchanted bosom This morn her banner waved. Hills, mountains, vales, and rocks ring With shouts of victory, As falls the sunset's crimson Across the earth and sea. And Dewey's noble squadron, That bravely won the day, On drowsy winds is floating "Old Glory" o'er the bay. All hail! our great commander, Thou hero of the sea, With your brave and noble boys you Have captured victory. Your name is wreathed in glory, Its praises will be sung Wherever Freedom's flag is To Freedom's breezes flung. The guns you've fired to-day, On the first of flow'ring May, Will thunder o'er Spain's hilltops Ten thousand miles away! Fling higher Freedom's emblem! Long may its colors wave Where God has given victory To Freedom's noble brave. |
|
