America -- History -- Poetry; Columbus, Christopher, 1451-1506 -- Poetry; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Poetry
So Leda's Twins from Colchis raped the Fleece,
And brought the treasure to their native Greece.
She hail'd her heroes from their finished wars,
Assigned their place amid the cluster'd stars,
Bade round the eternal sky their trophies flame,
And charged the zodiac with their deathless fame.
--Here move the Strangers, here in freedom's cause
His untried blade each stripling hero draws,
On the great chief their eyes in transport roll,
And war and Washington renerve the soul.
Steuben advanced, in veteran armor drest,
For Prussian lore distinguish'd o'er the rest,
The tactic lore; to this he bends his care,
And here transplants the discipline of war.
Other brave chieftains of illustrious name
Rise into sight and equal honors claim;
But who can tell the dew-drops of the morn,
Or count the rays that in the diamond burn?
--Grieve not, my valiant friends; the faithful song
Shall soon redress the momentary wrong;
Your own bright swords have cleaved your course to fame,
And all her hundred tongues recognize every claim.
Now the broad field as untaught warriors shade,
The sun's glad beam their shining arms display'd;
High waved great Washington his glittering steel,
Bade the long train in circling order wheel;
And, while the banner'd youths around him prest,
With voice revered he thus the ranks addrest:
Ye generous bands, behold the task to save,
Or yield whole nations to an instant grave.
See hosted myriads crowding to your shore,
Hear from all ports their vollied thunders roar;
From Boston heights their bloody standards play,
O'er long Champlain they lead their northern way,
Virginian banks behold their streamers glide,
And hostile navies load each southern tide.
Beneath their steps your towns in ashes lie,
Your inland empires feast their greedy eye;
Soon shall your fields to lordly parks be turn'd,
Your children butcher'd and your villas burn'd;
While following millions, thro the reign of time.
Who claim their birth in this indulgent clime,
Bend the weak knee, to servile toils consigned,
And sloth and slavery still degrade mankind.
Rise then to war, to timely vengeance rise,
Ere the gray sire, the helpless infant dies;
Look thro the world, see endless years descend,
What realms, what ages on your arms depend!
Reverse the fate, avenge the insulted sky,
Move to the work; we conquer or we die.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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