Ode for the fourteenth of July, 1791 the day consecrated to freedom: being the anniversary of the revolution in France. By Robert Merry |
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 | Ode for the fourteenth of July, 1791 |  |
ODE FOR THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY, 1791, THE DAY CONSECRATED TO FREEDOM.
Friends of the World! this festive day,
Might sure demand a prouder lay,
Than ever bursting from the Theban's heart,
Taught o'er the victor's lids the impassion'd tear to start.
But, O! He sung the madd'ning train,
Who struggled on the Pythian plain,
And of immortal verse profuse,
Hail'd the compulsive lord of Syracuse.
'Twas his, with eager hands to bind
A myrtle wreath upon the fetter'd mind,
And force degrading Prejudice to please.
But hence—far hence be themes like these,
Tyrannic infants, fools of state,
And such as Ignorance deem'd the great,
Have now their tinsel lustre lost,
The feeblest bard of modern time,
May higher swell his daring rhyme,
A richer excellence may boast!
With rapture point the Patriot Band,
Who sav'd a desolated land,
Who made a fallen people free,
And fix'd on Truth's broad Base, the column Liberty.
Might sure demand a prouder lay,
Than ever bursting from the Theban's heart,
Taught o'er the victor's lids the impassion'd tear to start.
But, O! He sung the madd'ning train,
Who struggled on the Pythian plain,
And of immortal verse profuse,
Hail'd the compulsive lord of Syracuse.
'Twas his, with eager hands to bind
A myrtle wreath upon the fetter'd mind,
And force degrading Prejudice to please.
But hence—far hence be themes like these,
Tyrannic infants, fools of state,
And such as Ignorance deem'd the great,
The feeblest bard of modern time,
May higher swell his daring rhyme,
A richer excellence may boast!
With rapture point the Patriot Band,
Who sav'd a desolated land,
Who made a fallen people free,
And fix'd on Truth's broad Base, the column Liberty.
Have Kings and Nobles Rights alone?
Is this prolific globe their own?
And is the mingled mass beside,
Form'd as the creature of their pride?
Not so,—the dire deception o'er,
Mankind can now mankind adore;
Nor bauble crowns, nor regal toys,
Shall cheat them of their natural joys,
Nor shall they more, by artifice subdued,
Kiss the Oppressor's rod, “A swinish Multitude.”
Is this prolific globe their own?
And is the mingled mass beside,
Form'd as the creature of their pride?
Not so,—the dire deception o'er,
Mankind can now mankind adore;
Nor bauble crowns, nor regal toys,
Shall cheat them of their natural joys,
Nor shall they more, by artifice subdued,
Kiss the Oppressor's rod, “A swinish Multitude.”
Fill high the animating glass,
And let the electric ruby pass
From hand to hand, from soul to soul;
Who shall the energy controul,
Exalted, pure, refin'd,
The Health of Humankind!
And let the electric ruby pass
Who shall the energy controul,
Exalted, pure, refin'd,
The Health of Humankind!
Not now a venal tribe shall raise
The song of prostituted praise,
To Sov'reigns who have seiz'd their pow'r;
But at this gay, this lib'ral hour,
We bless what Heaven design'd,
The Health of Humankind.
The song of prostituted praise,
To Sov'reigns who have seiz'd their pow'r;
But at this gay, this lib'ral hour,
We bless what Heaven design'd,
The Health of Humankind.
We turn indignant from each cause
Of Man's dismay; from partial laws,
From Kings who vainly seek by flight,
To shun the blaze of moral light;
We bless what Heaven design'd,
The Health of Humankind!
Of Man's dismay; from partial laws,
From Kings who vainly seek by flight,
To shun the blaze of moral light;
We bless what Heaven design'd,
The Health of Humankind!
The Angel Freedom, from celestial wing,
O'er ev'ry clime new bliss shall fling,
Dissolve the mental frost that reigns
On silent Lapland's dark domains;
Cheer the black Natives of the burning zone,
And bid to All the Rights of All be known:
Till from his height each Despot shall be hurl'd,
And Reason bear aloft the Fasces of the World.
O'er ev'ry clime new bliss shall fling,
Dissolve the mental frost that reigns
On silent Lapland's dark domains;
Cheer the black Natives of the burning zone,
And bid to All the Rights of All be known:
And Reason bear aloft the Fasces of the World.
Have not the titled Sons of Earth
Usurp'd Prerogative of Birth,
As tho' appropriate to descent,
Were high and noble sentiment?
What Sentiments can noble be,
But those of Truth and Liberty?
And what can Dignity dispense,
But Justice and Benevolence?
And are not these the common share,
Of all who breathe this vital air?
And has not kind, impartial Heav'n,
To ev'ry rank an equal feeling giv'n?
Virtue alone should vice subdue,
Nor are the Many baser than the Few.
Usurp'd Prerogative of Birth,
As tho' appropriate to descent,
Were high and noble sentiment?
What Sentiments can noble be,
But those of Truth and Liberty?
And what can Dignity dispense,
But Justice and Benevolence?
And are not these the common share,
Of all who breathe this vital air?
And has not kind, impartial Heav'n,
To ev'ry rank an equal feeling giv'n?
Virtue alone should vice subdue,
Nor are the Many baser than the Few.
CHORUS.
Virtue alone should vice subdue,Nor are the Many baser than the Few.
Henceforth shall fair Opinion rise
To give to All their proper state,
Due honours to the Good and Wise,
And to the Vile contempt and hate:
By no hereditary plea,
Shall proud conspicuous Folly shine;
The Laws of Truth shall make men Free.
And these are Laws divine.
To give to All their proper state,
Due honours to the Good and Wise,
And to the Vile contempt and hate:
Shall proud conspicuous Folly shine;
The Laws of Truth shall make men Free.
And these are Laws divine.
Then Britons think, that, chains to bear,
Is but to linger in despair;
Think on the blood your fathers shed,
And venerate the mighty dead:
Or should contending Factions e'er presume,
By smiles, or frowns, to fix your doom,
Assert the hallow'd Rights which Nature gave,
And let your last, best vow be Freedom or the Grave.
Is but to linger in despair;
Think on the blood your fathers shed,
And venerate the mighty dead:
Or should contending Factions e'er presume,
By smiles, or frowns, to fix your doom,
Assert the hallow'd Rights which Nature gave,
And let your last, best vow be Freedom or the Grave.
CHORUS.
Assert the hallow'd Rights which Nature gave,And let your last, best vow be Freedom or the Grave.
THE END.
| Ode for the fourteenth of July, 1791 | |