To Liberty, whose gracious smile Shed peace and plenty o'er the isle, Our grateful ancestors, her plain But faithful children, raised this fane. Full in the front, stretch'd out in length, Where Nature put forth all her strength 50 In spring eternal, lay a plain Where our brave fathers used to train Their sons to arms, to teach the art Of war, and steel the infant heart. Labour, their hardy nurse, when young, Their joints had knit, their nerves had strung; Abstinence, foe declared to Death, Had, from the time they first drew breath, The best of doctors, with plain food, Kept pure the channel of their blood; 60 Health in their cheeks bade colour rise, And Glory sparkled in their eyes. The instruments of husbandry, As in contempt, were all thrown by, And, flattering a manly pride, War's keener tools their place supplied. Their arrows to the head they drew; Swift to the points their javelins flew; They grasp'd the sword, they shook the spear; Their fathers felt a pleasing fear; 70 And even Courage, standing by, Scarcely beheld with steady eye. Each stripling, lesson'd by his sire, Knew when to close, when to retire, When near at hand, when from afar To fight, and was himself a war. Their wives, their mothers, all around, Careless of order, on the ground Breathed forth to Heaven the pious vow, And for a son's or husband's brow, 80 With eager fingers, laurel wove; Laurel, which in the sacred grove, Planted by Liberty, they find, The brows of conquerors to bind, To give them pride and spirit, fit To make a world in arms submit. What raptures did the bosom fire Of the young, rugged, peasant sire, When, from the toil of mimic fight, Returning with return of night, 90 He saw his babe resign the breast, And, smiling, stroke those arms in jest, With which hereafter he shall make The proudest heart in Gallia quake! Gods! with what joy, what honest pride, Did each fond, wishing rustic bride Behold her manly swain return! How did her love-sick bosom burn, Though on parades he was not bred, Nor wore the livery of red, 100 When, Pleasure heightening all her charms, She strain'd her warrior in her arms, And begg'd, whilst love and glory fire, A son, a son just like his sire! Such were the men in former times, Ere luxury had made our crimes Our bitter punishment, who bore Their terrors to a foreign shore: Such were the men, who, free from dread, By Edwards and by Henries led, 110 Spread, like a torrent swell'd with rains, O'er haughty Gallia's trembling plains: Such were the men, when lust of power, To work him woe, in evil hour Debauch'd the tyrant from those ways On which a king should found his praise; When stern Oppression, hand in hand With Pride, stalk'd proudly through the land; When weeping Justice was misled