Ye Sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought
For those rights which unstained from your sires had

descended, May you long taste the blessings your valor has bought, And your sons reap the soil which your fathers de


'Mid the reign of solid Peace,

May your nation increase, With the glory of Rome, and the wisdom of Greece: And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

In a clime whose rich vales feed the marts of the world,

Whose shores are unshaken by Europe's commotion, The trident of Commerce should never be hurled To increase the legitimate powers of the Ocean.

But should pirates invade,

Though in thunder arrayed, Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade: For ne'er will the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

Should the tempest of war overshadow our land,

Its bolts could ne'er rend Freedom's temple asunder; For unmoved at its portal would Washington stand, And repulse with his breast the assaults of the


His sword from the sleep

Of its scabbard would leap, And conduct, with the point, every flash to the deep: For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.

Let Fame to the world sound America's voice ;
No intrigues can her sons from their Government

sever ; Her pride are her statesmen ; their laws are her choice,

And shall flourish till Liberty slumber forever.

Then unite heart and hand,

Like Leonidas's band, And swear to the God of the ocean and land, That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, While the earth bears a plant or the sea rolls its waves.


Who delves to be a wit must own a mine,
In wealth must glitter ere in taste he shine ;
Gold buys him genius, and no churl will rail,
When feasts are brilliant, that a pun is stale.
Tip wit with gold-each shaft with shouts is flown ;
He drinks Champagne, and must not laugh alone.
The grape has point, although the joke be flat !
Pop! goes the cork !- there's epigram in that!
The spouting bottle is the brisk jet d'eau,
Which shows how high its fountain-head can throw !
See ! while the foaming mist ascends the room,
Sir Fopling rises in the vif perfume.

But, ah ! the classic knight at length perceives
His laurels drop with fortune's falling leaves.
He vapors cracks and clinches as before,
But other tables have not learned to roar.
At last, in fashion bankrupt as in pence,
He first discovers undiscovered sense-
And finds-without one jest in all his bags-
A wit in ruffles is a fool in rags.


TEMP YOIK OBLIC LIBRARY PAINE, THOMAS, an Anglo-American patriot and freethinker, born in Norfolkshire, England, January 29, 1737; died in New York, June 8, 1809. His father, a member of the Society of Friends, was a stay-maker by trade, and the son was brought up to that occupation, which he followed at various places, until his twenty-fifth year, after which he was successively a schoolteacher, an exciseman, and a tobacconist. In 1774 he went to London, where he became acquainted with Benjamin Franklin, then the Agent for the American Colonies, by whose advice he went to America, reaching Philadelphia early in 1775. He found employment with a printer and bookseller who was about to start a periodical, which Paine was to edit at a salary of £25 a year. In his introductory article he says: “This first number of the Pennsylvania Magazine entreats a favorable reception; of which we shall only say that like the early snow-drop, it comes forth in a barren season, and contents itself with foretelling the reader that choice flowers are preparing to appear.” The magazine was continued from January, 1775, to June, 1776. At the suggestion of Benjamin Rush, Paine wrote the pamphlet Common Sense, to meet the objections raised against a separation from the mother-country. This pamphlet, which appeared in February, 1776, produced a marked sensation,

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