 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
PRINTING AND INDEPENDENCE.
When, wrapped in folds of papal gloom,
Dark Superstition awed the world,
Consigned fair Knowledge to the tomb,
And Error's sable flag unfurled;
Earth heard the mandate from the skies—
“Let there be light—great ART, arise!”
Dark Superstition awed the world,
Consigned fair Knowledge to the tomb,
And Error's sable flag unfurled;
Earth heard the mandate from the skies—
“Let there be light—great ART, arise!”
Young Science wiped her tears and smiled,
And infant Genius plumed his wing;
The arts assemble round the child,
And all this glowing chorus sing—
Rise, sun of science! quick, arise!
And lend thy light to darkened eyes.
And infant Genius plumed his wing;
The arts assemble round the child,
And all this glowing chorus sing—
Rise, sun of science! quick, arise!
And lend thy light to darkened eyes.
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Our art arose, and man had light,
The clouds of superstition fled,
The fiend of ignorance took his flight,
And Error hid his hateful head;
Whilst swelled this chorus to the skies—
“Our art shall live, and Freedom rise.”
The clouds of superstition fled,
The fiend of ignorance took his flight,
And Error hid his hateful head;
Whilst swelled this chorus to the skies—
“Our art shall live, and Freedom rise.”
The goddess, who for ages past
Had wept beneath despotic night,
Her cankering fetters burst at last,
And claimed the charter of her right,
While men and seraphs joined this strain—
“Printing shall live, and Freedom reign.”
Had wept beneath despotic night,
Her cankering fetters burst at last,
And claimed the charter of her right,
While men and seraphs joined this strain—
“Printing shall live, and Freedom reign.”
Hail, Freedom! hail, celestial guest!
Oh, never from thy sons depart;
Thine be the empire of the West,
Thy temple every freeman's heart;
The art of printing gave thee birth,
And brightens still thy reign on earth.
Oh, never from thy sons depart;
Thine be the empire of the West,
Thy temple every freeman's heart;
The art of printing gave thee birth,
And brightens still thy reign on earth.
Arise, ye favored sons of light,
Professors of our heaven-born ART—
And in the chorus all unite,
While joy expands the throbbing heart;
“The art of printing shall endure,
“And Independence be secure.”
Professors of our heaven-born ART—
And in the chorus all unite,
While joy expands the throbbing heart;
“The art of printing shall endure,
“And Independence be secure.”
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |