Thofe foft endearments are, alas-no more;
No kindred tie his willing step detains ;
Refolv'd, he leaves Virginia's friendly fhore,
To guard the foil, where heav'n-born freedom reigns.
The naked Indian, or the wily Gaul,
The painted favage, and the untutor'd band; On those no more his angry weapons
fallA foe more favage dares his chast'ning hand.
Now Sol up-rifing gilds the diftant fpire,
Paints the dun umbrage of the western wood; O'er hapless Princeton fheds his genial fire, Roufing the Briton to new scenes of blood.
Loud founds the martial trumpet from afar,
The watchful cavalry inveft the ground;
The beat of drums proclaims th' approaching war,
Whilft frighted heralds bear the tidings round.
The distant hills on each horizon blaze
With polish'd arms, and troops in vaft parade;
No ling'ring terror either hoft delays,
To meet the foe in hoftile pomp array'd.
Intrepid Mercer leads th' embattled van,
His great example ev'ry foldier fires;
Thro'out the deep'ning line from man to man,
The pulfe of glory ev'ry breast infpires.
Swift on the foe, the dauntless warrior springs,
Braves the loud cannon's defolating force;
Dares the grim terrors of their circling wings,
And ftrews the field with many a bleeding corse.
But pierc'd he falls, he welters on the ground; The ruffian foe rejoice with favage cries; While reeking bay'nets blush from wound to wound, Stabbing the hero, as he vanquifh'd lies.
A corps referv'd (tho' panting for the deed)
Indignant view'd the tragic scene from far;
Onward they furious rush'd with vengeful speed,
Ply'd the loud cannon, and renew'd the war.
Forc'd from their murd'ring work, the villains fly,
In broken columns, o'er the bloody field;
Some breathless faint, fome maim'd expiring lie,
While others trembling to the victors yield.
In vain they fhun the vengeance of our arms,
In vain the terrors of the war decline;
The grateful chace each patriot bofom warms,
And fhow'rs deftruction on their routed line.
Revenge appeas'd with ample vict'ry crown'd,
For Mercer mangled and for Hafelet flain,
Sees Britain's miscreants firew the purpled ground,
A grateful off'ring on the well fought plain.
Now, what was virtue (which the just admire)
Soul of the patriot, instinct of the brave;
Quench'd is that spark that fed the genial fire,
And Mercer flumbers in the peaceful grave.
Olympus' tow'ring heights, those blest abodes,
Where freedom fheds her fair aufpicious ray, Glorious he feeks, and, mix'd with kindred gods, Breathes the pure æther of eternal day.
Philadelphia, Jan. 31, 1777.
THE RISING GLORY OF AMERICA.
No more of Memphis and her mighty kings,
Or Alexandria, where the Ptolemies
Taught golden commerce to unfurl her fails,
And bid fair fcience fmile: no more of Greece,
Where learning next her early visit paid,
And spread her glories to illume the world-
No more of Athens, where the flourished,
And faw her fons of mighty genius rife
Smooth-flowing Plato, Socrates, and him
Who with refiftlefs eloquence reviv'd
The fpirit of Liberty, and fhook the thrones
Of Macedon and Perfia's haughty kings-
No more of Rome, enlighten'd by her beams,
Fresh kindling there the fire of eloquence
And poefy divine, imperial Rome!
M 2
Whofe wide dominion reach'd o'er half the globe;
Whofe eagle flew o'er Ganges to the caft,
And in the weft far to the British ifles-
No more of Britain and her kings renown'd,
Edwards and Henrys, thunderbolts of war;
Her chiefs victorious o'er the Gallic foe;
Illuftrious fenators, immortal bards,
And wife philofophers, of thefe no more:
A theme more new, tho' not lefs noble, claims
Our ev'ry thought on this aufpicious day,
The rifing glory of this western world,
Where now the dawning light of science spreads
Her orient ray, and wakes the muse's song;
Where freedom holds her facred standard high,
And commerce rolls her golden tides profufe
Of elegance, and ev'ry joy of life.
Now thro' the veil of ancient days review The period fam'd, when firft Columbus touch'd The shore fo long unknown; thro' various toils, Famine and death, the hero made his way, Fam'd Cabot too may claim our nobleft fong, Who from th' Atlantic furge defcry'd these fhores, As he coafted from the Mexic bay
To Acady, and piny Labradore.
Nor lefs than him the mufe would celebrate
Bold Hudfon, ftemming to the Pole, thro' feas
Vex'd with continual ftorms, thro' the cold ftraits,
Where Europe and America oppofe
Their fhores contiguous, and the northern fea
Confin'd, indignant, fwells and roars between.
With these be number'd in the lift of fame
Illuftrious Raleigh, hapless in his fate :
Forgive me, Raleigh, if an infant mufe
Borrows thy name to grace her humble ftrain;
By many nobler are thy virtues fung;
Envy no more fhall throw them in the fhade
They pour new luftre on Britannia's ifle.
Thou too, advent’rous on th' Atlantic main,
Burft thro' its ftorms, and fair Virginia hail'd.
The fimple natives faw thy canvas flow,
And gaz'd aloof upon the fhady shore:
For in her woods America contain'd,
From times remote, a favage race of men.
Shut from the light of fcience and of truth
They wander'd blindfold down the steep of time;
Far from the reach of fame they liv'd unknown,
In liftlefs flumber and inglorious eafe;
To them fair science never op'd her stores,
Nor facred truth fublim'd the foul to God;
No fix'd abode their wand'ring genius knew,
No golden harveft crown'd the fertile glebe;
No city then adorn'd the river's bank,
Nor rifing turret overlook'd the stream.
Now view the profpect chang'd; far off at fea
The mariner defcries our spacious towns;
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