University of Virginia Library

TO Britain once devoted was my lyre;
Oft did the muse my lab'ring breast inspire
Her joys and woes to sing,
While she was to Columbia just,
Nor strove t' enslave her to th' imperious lust
Of a despotic king.
Then with a loyal pride,
For many an happy year,
Beneath a patriot monarch's smile,
I could a firm allegiance boast:
By filial love as by descent ally'd,
And doubtful which I held most dear,
Or which engag'd my ardor most,
My native region or the parent isle;
Ev'n while my passion seem'd for each the same,
Ambitious of superior style,
I fondly gloried in the British name.
Then while my cheerful tongue
The British conquests sung,
My kindred breast with joy ecstatic glow'd;
And when the common foe
To Britain gave some heavy blow,
My plaintive numbers flow'd
In sympathetic strains of undissembled woe.
But now those social days are o'er,
The muse for Britain sings no more,
The British laurel withers on my brow,
Columbia only is my country now;
To her alone my services belong:
My head, my heart, my hands,
My pen, my lyre, my tongue,
Columbia's int'rest now demands,
Engrosses all my cares and claims my ev'ry song.