As billows upon billows roll,
⁠On victory victory breaks;
Ere yet seven days from Richmond's fall
⁠And crowning triumph wakes
The loud joy-gun, whose thunders run
⁠By sea-shore, streams, and lakes.
⁠The hope and great event agree
⁠In the sword that Grant received from Lee.

The warring eagles fold the wing,
⁠But not in Cæsar's sway;
Not Rome o'ercome by Roman arms we sing,
⁠As on Pharsalia's day,
But Treason thrown, though a giant grown,
⁠And Freedom's larger play.
⁠All human tribes glad token see
⁠In the close of the wars of Grant and Lee.