Through tears of grief, that speak the well taught mind,
They hail the era that relieves mankind.
Of these the first, the Gallic sages stand,
And urge their king to lift an aiding hand.
The cause of humankind their souls inspired,
Columbia’s wrongs their indignation fired;
To share her fateful deeds their counsel moved,
To base in practice what in theme they proved:
That no proud privilege from birth can spring,
No right divine nor compact43 form a king;
That in the people dwells the sovereign sway,
Who rule by proxy, by themselves obey;
That virtues, talents are the test of awe,
And Equal Rights the only source of law.
Surrounding heroes wait the monarch’s word,
In foreign fields to draw the patriot sword,
Prepared with joy to join those infant powers
Who build republics on the western shores.
By honest guile the royal ear they bend
And lure him on, blest freedom to defend;
That, once recognised, once establisht there,
The world might learn her proffer’d boon to share.
But artful arguments their plan disguise,
Garb’d in the gloss that suits a monarch’s eyes.
By arms to humble Britain’s haughty power,
From her to sever that extended shore,
Contents his utmost wish. For this he lends
His powerful aid and calls the opprest his friends.
The league proposed, he lifts his arm to save
And speaks the borrow’d language of the brave:
Ye states of France, and ye of rising name
Who work those distant miracles of fame,
Hear and attend; let heaven the witness bear,
We wed the cause, we join the righteous war.
Let leagues eternal bind each friendly land,
Given by our voice and stablisht by our hand;
Let that brave people fix their infant sway
And spread their blessings with the bounds of day;
Yet know, ye nations, hear ye Powers above,
Our purposed aid no views of conquest move;
In that young world revives no ancient claim
Of regions peopled by the Gallic name;
Our envied bounds, already stretcht afar,
Nor ask the sword nor fear encroaching war;
But virtue, coping with the tyrant power
That drenches earth in her best children’s gore,
With nature’s foes bids former compact cease;
We war reluctant and our wish is peace;
For man’s whole race the sword of France we draw;
Such is our will, and let our will be law.
He spoke; his moving armies veil’d the plain,
His fleets rode bounding on the western main;
O’er lands and seas the loud applauses rung
And war and union dwelt on every tongue.
The other Bourbon caught the splendid strain,
To Gallia’s arms he joins the powers of Spain;
Their sails assemble; Crillon lifts the sword,
Minorca bows and owns her ancient lord.
But while dread Elliott44 shakes the Midland wave,
They strive in vain the Calpian rock to brave.
Batavia’s states with equal speed prepare
Through western isles to meet the naval war;
For Albion there rakes rude the tortured main
And foils the force of Holland, France and Spain.
Where old Indostan still perfumes the skies,
To furious strife his ardent myriads rise;
Fierce Hyder there, unconquerably bold,
Bids a new flag its horned moons unfold,
Spreads o’er Carnatic kings his splendid force
And checks the Britons in their waiting course.
Europe’s pacific powers their counsels join,
The laws of trade to settle and define.
The imperial Moscovite around him draws
Each Baltic state to join the righteous cause;
Whose arm’d Neutrality the way prepares
To check the ravages of future wars;
Till by degrees the wasting sword shall cease
And commerce lead to universal peace.
Thus all the ancient world with anxious eyes
Enjoy the lights that gild Atlantic skies,
Wake to new life, assume a borrow’d flame,
Enlarge the lustre and partake the fame.
So mounts of ice, that polar heavens invade,
Though piled unseen through night’s long wintry shade.
When morn at last illumes their glaring throne,
Give back the day and imitate the sun.
But still Columbus, on his war-beat shore,
Sees Albion’s fleets her new battalions pour;
The states unconquer’d still their terrors wield
And stain with mingled gore the embattled field.
On Pennsylvania’s various plains they move,
And adverse armies equal slaughter prove;
Columbia mourns her Nash in combat slain
Britons around him press the gory plain;
Skirmish and cannonade and distant fire
Each power diminish and each nation tire.
Till Howe from fruitless toil demands repose
And leaves despairing in a land of foes
His wearied host; who now, to reach their fleet,
O’er Jersey hills commence their long retreat,
Tread back the steps their chief had led before
And ask in vain the late abandon’d shore,
Where Hudson meets the main; for on their rear
Columbia moves and checks their swift career.
But where green Monmouth lifts his grassy height,
They halt, they face, they dare the coming fight.
Howe’s proud successor, Clinton, hosting there,
To tempt once more the desperate chance of war,
Towers at their head, in hopes to work relief
And mend the errors of his former chief.
Here shines his day; and here with loud acclaim
Begins and ends his little task of fame.
He vaults before them with his balanced blade,
Wheels the bright van and forms the long parade;
Where Britons, Hessians crowd the glittering field,
And all their powers for ready combat wield.
As the dim sun, beneath the skirts of even,
Crimsons the clouds that sail the western heaven;
So, in red wavy rows where spread the train
Of men and standards, shone the fateful plain.
They shone, till Washington obscured their light,
And his long ranks roll’d forward to the fight.
He points the charge; the mounted thunders roar
And rake the champaign to the distant shore.
Above the folds of smoke that veil the war,
His guiding sword illumes the fields of air;
And vollied flames, bright bursting o’er the plain
Break the brown clouds discovering far the slain:
Till flight begins; the smoke is roll’d away,
And the red standards open into day.
Britons and Germans hurry from the field,
Now wrapt in dust and now to sight reveal’d;
Behind, swift Washington his falchion drives,
Thins the pale ranks, but saves submissive lives.
Hosts captive bow and move behind his arm,
And hosts before him wing the sounding storm;
When the glad sea salutes their fainting sight,
And Albion’s fleet wide thundering aids their flight;
They steer to sad New York their hasty way
And rue the toils of Monmouth’s mournful day.
But Hudson still, with his interior tide,
Laves a rude rock that bears Britannia’s pride,
Swells round the headland with indignant roar
And mocks her thunders from his murmuring shore;
When a firm cohort starts from Peekskill plain
To crush the invaders and the post regain.
Here, gallant Hull,
