In this our western world Be Freedom's flag unfurl'd Through all its shores! May no destructive blast Our heaven of joy o'ercast, May Freedom's fabric last While time endures. If e'er her cause require!-- Should tyrants e'er aspire To aim their stroke, May no proud despot daunt-- Should he his standard plant, Freedom will never want Her hearts of oak! [68] This ode was sung at the Civic Feast given to Genet in Philadelphia by the French and Citizens, June 1, 1793. The affair is described in detail in Bache's _Aurora_ of June 4th. After three of the toasts the artillery fired salutes with two twelve pounders, fifteen rounds each. Freneau's ode was sung after the seventh toast, "with great effect." As to the date of composition of the ode I can find no reliable evidence. Conway, in his life of Paine, mentions that it was sung in 1791 at the November Festival of the London Revolution Society. It was published in the edition of 1795, but was not reproduced in 1809. ON THE DEATH[69] Of a Republican Printer [By his Partner and Successor] Like Sybil's leaves, abroad he spread His sheets, to awe the aspiring crew: Stock-jobbers fainted while they read; Each hidden scheme display'd to view-- Who could such doctrines spread abroad So long, and not be clapper-claw'd! Content with slow uncertain gains, With heart and hand prepar'd he stood To send his works to distant plains, And hills beyond the Ohio-flood-- And, since he had no time to lose, Preach'd whiggish lectures with his news. Now death, with cold unsparing hand, (At whose decree even Capets fall) From life's poor glass has shook his sand, And sent him, fainting, to the wall-- Because he gave you some sad wipes, O Mammon! seize not thou his types. What shall be done, in such a case?-- Shall I, because my partner fails, Call in his bull-dogs from the chace To loll their tongues and drop their tails-- No, faith--the title-hunting crew No longer fly than we pursue. [69] Published in the _National Gazette_, July 6, 1793, under the title "Reflections on the Death of a Country Printer." Republished in the edition of 1795, which the text follows, and not inserted in the 1809 edition. ON THE ANNIVERSARY[70] Of the Storming of the Bastille, at Paris, July 14th, 1789 The chiefs that bow to Capet's reign, In mourning, now, their weeds display; But we, that scorn a monarch's chain, Combine to celebrate the Day To Freedom's birth that put the seal, And laid in dust the proud Bastille. To Gallia's rich and splendid crown, This mighty Day gave such a blow As Time's recording hand shall own No former age had power to do: No single gem some Brutus stole, But instant ruin seiz'd the whole.