Columbia's glory | ||
Abject, asham'd, forlorn,
Thy own confusion and Columbia's scorn,
How art thou fallen, proud offspring of the morn!
How art thou doubly fall'n! sorely crost.
By twofold disappointment, not alone
Is soil'd thy honour and renown,
But, to thy keen regret and grievous cost,
Are the most brilliant jewels of thy crown,
Which erst with so much lustre shone.
The fairest districts of thy empire lost:
While drawn thy lawless sword,
To subjugate to thy despotic sway,
This western world, that owns no TYRANT lord;
Mad with resentment, and outrageous grown,
Full THIRTEEN pillars thou hast spurn'd away,
Which once conspir'd, in beautiful array,
On a firm basis to support thy throne.
So with ambition fir'd,
Once Lucifer aspir'd,
Beyond his nature's line,
T'usurp the throne divine,
And set up tyranny in heav'n:
At length, by righteous vengeance driv'n
To punishment condign;
From his exalted seat he fell,
Lost all that pow'r his maker God had giv'n,
Confounded sunk to hell,
And disappointed, curs'd his vain design,
So Rehoboam, in the days of old,
His supplicating people spurn'd,
And, arrogantly bold,
Rude threat'nings to their humble suit return'd,
But, while their shoulders he resolv'd to load
With heavier taxes, and their backs to goad
With all the harsh severities of state;
In one unhappy day,
Ten tribes revolted from his haughty sway,
And left th'infatuated king,
Tortur'd by keen reflections sting,
To curse his folly and repent too late.
So Charles, in later times,
Though canoniz'd, of memory accurst,
And stain'd with many heinous crimes,
Though by the incense of sweet praise perform'd,
Usurp'd prerogatives unjust,
And, instigated by the lust
Of arbitrary pow'r,
Unworthily presum'd
Against the constitution to rebel,
And with his suff'ring subjects durst
A war unrighteous wage;
But, in an evil hour
To the dire scaffold doom'd,
At length, by heav'n's just vengeance, fell
A victim to his injur'd people's rage.
So James, his foolish son,
By his sad fate no wiser made,
Pursu'd the path his sire had done,
And push'd th'accursed trade
Of ROYAL violence still farther on;
But, trembling and dismay'd,
Was glad at last to fly,
With guilty horrors chill'd,
When he beheld th' immortal William nigh,
And, by his friends betray'd,
Compell'd to abdicate the throne
He so unworthily had fill'd,
And to that great DELIV'RER yield
A sceptre he had like a fury sway'd.
Thy own confusion and Columbia's scorn,
How art thou fallen, proud offspring of the morn!
How art thou doubly fall'n! sorely crost.
By twofold disappointment, not alone
Is soil'd thy honour and renown,
But, to thy keen regret and grievous cost,
Are the most brilliant jewels of thy crown,
Which erst with so much lustre shone.
The fairest districts of thy empire lost:
While drawn thy lawless sword,
33
This western world, that owns no TYRANT lord;
Mad with resentment, and outrageous grown,
Full THIRTEEN pillars thou hast spurn'd away,
Which once conspir'd, in beautiful array,
On a firm basis to support thy throne.
So with ambition fir'd,
Once Lucifer aspir'd,
Beyond his nature's line,
T'usurp the throne divine,
And set up tyranny in heav'n:
At length, by righteous vengeance driv'n
To punishment condign;
From his exalted seat he fell,
Lost all that pow'r his maker God had giv'n,
Confounded sunk to hell,
And disappointed, curs'd his vain design,
So Rehoboam, in the days of old,
His supplicating people spurn'd,
And, arrogantly bold,
Rude threat'nings to their humble suit return'd,
But, while their shoulders he resolv'd to load
With heavier taxes, and their backs to goad
With all the harsh severities of state;
In one unhappy day,
Ten tribes revolted from his haughty sway,
And left th'infatuated king,
Tortur'd by keen reflections sting,
To curse his folly and repent too late.
So Charles, in later times,
Though canoniz'd, of memory accurst,
And stain'd with many heinous crimes,
Though by the incense of sweet praise perform'd,
Usurp'd prerogatives unjust,
And, instigated by the lust
Of arbitrary pow'r,
Unworthily presum'd
34
And with his suff'ring subjects durst
A war unrighteous wage;
But, in an evil hour
To the dire scaffold doom'd,
At length, by heav'n's just vengeance, fell
A victim to his injur'd people's rage.
So James, his foolish son,
By his sad fate no wiser made,
Pursu'd the path his sire had done,
And push'd th'accursed trade
Of ROYAL violence still farther on;
But, trembling and dismay'd,
Was glad at last to fly,
With guilty horrors chill'd,
When he beheld th' immortal William nigh,
And, by his friends betray'd,
Compell'd to abdicate the throne
He so unworthily had fill'd,
And to that great DELIV'RER yield
A sceptre he had like a fury sway'd.
Columbia's glory | ||