Lift up your hands, ye heroes, And swear with proud disdain, The wretch that would ensnare you, Shall lay his snares in vain: Should Europe empty all her force, We'll meet her in array, And fight and shout, and shout and fight For North America. Some future day shall crown us, The masters of the main, Our fleets shall speak in thunder To England, France, and Spain; And the nations over the ocean spread Shall tremble and obey The sons, the sons, the sons, the sons, Of brave America. [Illustration] [Illustration] EMANCIPATION FROM BRITISH DEPENDENCE. BY PHILIP FRENEAU. [The following note explanatory of references to proper names, etc., in this poem is copied from Duyckinck's edition of Freneau.--EDITOR.] NOTE.--Sir James Wallace, Admiral Graves, and Captain Montague, were British naval officers, employed on our coast. The _Viper_ and _Rose_ were vessels in the service. Lord Dunmore, the last royal governor of Virginia, had recently, in April, 1775, removed the public stores from Williamsburg, and, in conjunction with a party of adherents, supported by the naval force on the station, was making war on the province. William Tryon, the last Royal governor of New York, informed of a resolution of the Continental Congress: "That it be recommended to the several provincial assemblies in conventions and councils, or committees of safety, to arrest and secure every person in their respective colonies whose going at large may, in their opinion, endanger the safety of the colony or the liberties of America," discerning the signs of the times, took refuge on board the Halifax packet in the harbor, and left the city in the middle of October, 1775. [Illustration] [Illustration] EMANCIPATION FROM BRITISH DEPENDENCE. BY PHILIP FRENEAU. _Libera nos, Domine_--Deliver us, O Lord, Not only from British dependence, but also, From a junto that labor for absolute power, Whose schemes disappointed have made them look sour; From the lords of the council, who fight against freedom Who still follow on where delusion shall lead 'em. From groups at St. James's who slight our Petitions, And fools that are waiting for further submissions; From a nation whose manners are rough and abrupt, From scoundrels and rascals whom gold can corrupt. From pirates sent out by command of the king To murder and plunder, but never to swing; From Wallace, and Graves, and _Vipers_, and _Roses_, Whom, if Heaven pleases, we'll give bloody noses. From the valiant Dunmore, with his crew of banditti Who plunder Virginians at Williamsburg city, From hot-headed Montague, mighty to swear, The little fat man with his pretty white hair.