"Eighty Years Ago" (Buffalo, 18 Aug 1856)
A
Patriotic Song
[with portrait of Millard Fillmore with signature]
Words by
Charles Sprague
The Music Composed and Respectfully Dedicated
to the
Hon. Millard Fillmore
by
J. F. Petri.

New York: Wm. Hall & Son, 939 Broadway
Lithograper: [F?] Sarong & Co., New York
[Source: 005/011@Levy]

Buffalo, Augt. 18, 1856.
J. F. Petri, Esq
Dr. Sir,
Your favor toether with the Music which you have
done me the honor to dedicate to me, came duly to hand, for which I beg you
to accept my thanks. I have not yet heard the music but as I judge from the
beautiful words by Mr Sprague that it "Keeps step to the Union" it has my most
hearty approval.  I am truly yours
Millard Fillmore.

1. Eighty years have roll’d away,
Since that bright, heroic day,
When our fathers in the fray,
    Struck the conqu’ring blow.
Praise to them the bold who spoke,
Praise to them the brave who broke
Stern oppression’s galling yoke,
    Eighty years ago. 

CHORUS [sung after each VERSE]
Praise to them the bold who spoke,
Praise to them the brave who broke
Stern oppression’s galling yoke,
Eighty years ago.

2. Pour the wine of sacrifice
Let the grateful anthem rise—
Shall we e’er resign the prize?—
	Never— never— no!
Hearts and hands shall guard these rights,
Bought on Freedom’s battle heights,
Where he fixed his signal lights,
    Eighty years ago! 

3. Swear it! by the mighty dead—
Those who counseled, those who led;
By the blood your fathers shed,
    By your mother’s woe;
Swear it!— by the living few—
Those whose breasts were scarred for you,
When to Freedom’s ranks they flew,
    Eighty years ago!  

4. By the joys that cluster round,
By our vales with plenty crowned,
By our hilltops— holy ground,
    Rescued from the foe—
Where of old the Indian strayed,
Where of old the Pilgrim prayed,
Where the patriot drew his blade,
    Eighty years ago!  

5. Should again the wartrump peal,
There shall Indian firmness steal,
Pilgrim faith and patriot zeal,
    Prompt to strike the blow;
There shall valor’s work be done;
Like the sire, shall be the son,
Where the fight was waged and won,
    Eighty years ago!