His triumphs of a moment done;His race of desolation run,The Briton, yielding to his fears,To other shores with sorrow steers:To other shores—and coarser climesHe goes, reflecting on his crimes,His broken oaths,a murder'dHayne,And blood of thousands, spilt in vain.ToCooper'sstream, advancing slow,Ashleyno longer tells his woe,No longer mourns his limpid floodDiscolor'd deep with human blood.Lo! where those social streams combineAgain the friends of Freedom join;And, while they stray where once they bled,Rejoice to find their tyrants fled,Since memory paints that dismal dayWhen British squadrons held the sway,And circling close on every side,By sea and land retreat deny'd—Shall she recall that mournful scene,And not the virtues of aGreene,Who great in war—in danger try'd,Has won the day, and crush'd their pride.Through barren wastes and ravag'd landsHe led his bold undaunted bands,Through sickly climes his standard boreWhere never army marched before:By fortitude, with patience join'd(The virtues of a noble mind),He spread, where'er our wars are known,His country's honor and his own.Like Hercules, his generous planWas to redress the wrongs of men;Like him, accustom'd to subdue,He freed a world frommonsterstoo.Through every want and every illWe saw him persevering still,Through Autumn's damps and Summer's heat,Till his great purpose was complete.Like the bold eagle, from the skiesThat stoops, to seize his trembling prize,He darted on the slaves of kingsAt Camden heights and Eutaw Springs.Ah! had our friends that led the fraySurviv'd the ruins of that day,We should not damp our joy with pain,Nor, sympathizing, now complain.Strange! that of those who nobly dareDeath always claims so large a share,That those of virtue most refin'dAre soonest to the grave consign'd!—But fame is theirs—and future daysOn pillar'd brass shall tell their praise;Shall tell—when cold neglect is dead—"These for their country fought and bled."Philip Freneau.
His triumphs of a moment done;His race of desolation run,The Briton, yielding to his fears,To other shores with sorrow steers:To other shores—and coarser climesHe goes, reflecting on his crimes,His broken oaths,a murder'dHayne,And blood of thousands, spilt in vain.ToCooper'sstream, advancing slow,Ashleyno longer tells his woe,No longer mourns his limpid floodDiscolor'd deep with human blood.Lo! where those social streams combineAgain the friends of Freedom join;And, while they stray where once they bled,Rejoice to find their tyrants fled,Since memory paints that dismal dayWhen British squadrons held the sway,And circling close on every side,By sea and land retreat deny'd—Shall she recall that mournful scene,And not the virtues of aGreene,Who great in war—in danger try'd,Has won the day, and crush'd their pride.Through barren wastes and ravag'd landsHe led his bold undaunted bands,Through sickly climes his standard boreWhere never army marched before:By fortitude, with patience join'd(The virtues of a noble mind),He spread, where'er our wars are known,His country's honor and his own.Like Hercules, his generous planWas to redress the wrongs of men;Like him, accustom'd to subdue,He freed a world frommonsterstoo.Through every want and every illWe saw him persevering still,Through Autumn's damps and Summer's heat,Till his great purpose was complete.Like the bold eagle, from the skiesThat stoops, to seize his trembling prize,He darted on the slaves of kingsAt Camden heights and Eutaw Springs.Ah! had our friends that led the fraySurviv'd the ruins of that day,We should not damp our joy with pain,Nor, sympathizing, now complain.Strange! that of those who nobly dareDeath always claims so large a share,That those of virtue most refin'dAre soonest to the grave consign'd!—But fame is theirs—and future daysOn pillar'd brass shall tell their praise;Shall tell—when cold neglect is dead—"These for their country fought and bled."Philip Freneau.
His triumphs of a moment done;His race of desolation run,The Briton, yielding to his fears,To other shores with sorrow steers:
To other shores—and coarser climesHe goes, reflecting on his crimes,His broken oaths,a murder'dHayne,And blood of thousands, spilt in vain.
ToCooper'sstream, advancing slow,Ashleyno longer tells his woe,No longer mourns his limpid floodDiscolor'd deep with human blood.
Lo! where those social streams combineAgain the friends of Freedom join;And, while they stray where once they bled,Rejoice to find their tyrants fled,
Since memory paints that dismal dayWhen British squadrons held the sway,And circling close on every side,By sea and land retreat deny'd—
Shall she recall that mournful scene,And not the virtues of aGreene,Who great in war—in danger try'd,Has won the day, and crush'd their pride.
Through barren wastes and ravag'd landsHe led his bold undaunted bands,Through sickly climes his standard boreWhere never army marched before:
By fortitude, with patience join'd(The virtues of a noble mind),He spread, where'er our wars are known,His country's honor and his own.
Like Hercules, his generous planWas to redress the wrongs of men;Like him, accustom'd to subdue,He freed a world frommonsterstoo.
Through every want and every illWe saw him persevering still,Through Autumn's damps and Summer's heat,Till his great purpose was complete.
Like the bold eagle, from the skiesThat stoops, to seize his trembling prize,He darted on the slaves of kingsAt Camden heights and Eutaw Springs.
Ah! had our friends that led the fraySurviv'd the ruins of that day,We should not damp our joy with pain,Nor, sympathizing, now complain.
Strange! that of those who nobly dareDeath always claims so large a share,That those of virtue most refin'dAre soonest to the grave consign'd!—
But fame is theirs—and future daysOn pillar'd brass shall tell their praise;Shall tell—when cold neglect is dead—"These for their country fought and bled."
Philip Freneau.
However the King might froth and bluster, it was evident that he was beaten. He was forced to bow to the inevitable, and on December 5, 1782, in his speech at the opening of Parliament, he recommended that peace be made with the colonies in America, and that they be declared free and independent.
However the King might froth and bluster, it was evident that he was beaten. He was forced to bow to the inevitable, and on December 5, 1782, in his speech at the opening of Parliament, he recommended that peace be made with the colonies in America, and that they be declared free and independent.
ON THE BRITISH KING'S SPEECH
RECOMMENDING PEACE WITH THE AMERICAN STATES
[December 5, 1782]
Grown sick of war, and war's alarms,Good George has changed his note at last—Conquest and death have lost their charms;He and his nation stand aghast,To think what fearful lengths they've gone,And what a brink they stand upon.Old Bute and North, twin sons of hell,If you advised him to retreatBefore our vanquished thousands fell,Prostrate, submissive at his feet:Awake once more his latent flame,And bid us yield you all you claim.The Macedonian wept and sighedBecause no other world was foundWhere he might glut his rage and pride,And by its ruin be renowned;The world that Sawney wished to viewGeorge fairly had—and lost it too!Let jarring powers make war or peace,Monster!—no peace can greet your breast!Our murdered friends can never ceaseTo hover round and break your rest!The Furies will your bosom tear,Remorse, distraction, and despairAnd hell, with all its fiends, be there!Cursed be the ship that e'er sets sailHence, freighted for your odious shore;May tempests o'er her strength prevail,Destruction round her roar!May Nature all her aids deny,The sun refuse his light,The needle from its object fly,No star appear by night:Till the base pilot, conscious of his crime,Directs the prow to some more Christian clime.Genius! that first our race designed,To other kings impartThe finer feelings of the mind,The virtues of the heart;Whene'er the honors of a throneFall to the bloody and the base,Like Britain's tyrant, pull them down,Like his, be their disgrace!Hibernia, seize each native right!Neptune, exclude him from the main;Like her that sunk with all her freight,The Royal George, take all his fleet,And never let them rise again;Confine him to his gloomy isle,Let Scotland rule her half,Spare him to curse his fate awhile,And Whitehead, thou to write his epitaph.Philip Freneau.
Grown sick of war, and war's alarms,Good George has changed his note at last—Conquest and death have lost their charms;He and his nation stand aghast,To think what fearful lengths they've gone,And what a brink they stand upon.Old Bute and North, twin sons of hell,If you advised him to retreatBefore our vanquished thousands fell,Prostrate, submissive at his feet:Awake once more his latent flame,And bid us yield you all you claim.The Macedonian wept and sighedBecause no other world was foundWhere he might glut his rage and pride,And by its ruin be renowned;The world that Sawney wished to viewGeorge fairly had—and lost it too!Let jarring powers make war or peace,Monster!—no peace can greet your breast!Our murdered friends can never ceaseTo hover round and break your rest!The Furies will your bosom tear,Remorse, distraction, and despairAnd hell, with all its fiends, be there!Cursed be the ship that e'er sets sailHence, freighted for your odious shore;May tempests o'er her strength prevail,Destruction round her roar!May Nature all her aids deny,The sun refuse his light,The needle from its object fly,No star appear by night:Till the base pilot, conscious of his crime,Directs the prow to some more Christian clime.Genius! that first our race designed,To other kings impartThe finer feelings of the mind,The virtues of the heart;Whene'er the honors of a throneFall to the bloody and the base,Like Britain's tyrant, pull them down,Like his, be their disgrace!Hibernia, seize each native right!Neptune, exclude him from the main;Like her that sunk with all her freight,The Royal George, take all his fleet,And never let them rise again;Confine him to his gloomy isle,Let Scotland rule her half,Spare him to curse his fate awhile,And Whitehead, thou to write his epitaph.Philip Freneau.
Grown sick of war, and war's alarms,Good George has changed his note at last—Conquest and death have lost their charms;He and his nation stand aghast,To think what fearful lengths they've gone,And what a brink they stand upon.
Old Bute and North, twin sons of hell,If you advised him to retreatBefore our vanquished thousands fell,Prostrate, submissive at his feet:Awake once more his latent flame,And bid us yield you all you claim.
The Macedonian wept and sighedBecause no other world was foundWhere he might glut his rage and pride,And by its ruin be renowned;The world that Sawney wished to viewGeorge fairly had—and lost it too!
Let jarring powers make war or peace,Monster!—no peace can greet your breast!Our murdered friends can never ceaseTo hover round and break your rest!The Furies will your bosom tear,Remorse, distraction, and despairAnd hell, with all its fiends, be there!
Cursed be the ship that e'er sets sailHence, freighted for your odious shore;May tempests o'er her strength prevail,Destruction round her roar!May Nature all her aids deny,The sun refuse his light,The needle from its object fly,No star appear by night:Till the base pilot, conscious of his crime,Directs the prow to some more Christian clime.
Genius! that first our race designed,To other kings impartThe finer feelings of the mind,The virtues of the heart;Whene'er the honors of a throneFall to the bloody and the base,Like Britain's tyrant, pull them down,Like his, be their disgrace!
Hibernia, seize each native right!Neptune, exclude him from the main;Like her that sunk with all her freight,The Royal George, take all his fleet,And never let them rise again;Confine him to his gloomy isle,Let Scotland rule her half,Spare him to curse his fate awhile,And Whitehead, thou to write his epitaph.
Philip Freneau.
ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782
O Thou, that sendest out the manTo rule by land and sea,Strong mother of a Lion-line,Be proud of those strong sons of thineWho wrench'd their rights from thee!What wonder if in noble heatThose men thine arms withstood,Retaught the lesson thou had'st taught,And in thy spirit with thee fought,—Who sprang from English blood!But thou rejoice with liberal joy,Lift up thy rocky face,And shatter, when the storms are black,In many a streaming torrent back,The seas that shock thy base!Whatever harmonies of lawThe growing world assume,Thy work is thine—the single noteFrom that deep chord which Hampden smoteWill vibrate to the doom.Alfred Tennyson.
O Thou, that sendest out the manTo rule by land and sea,Strong mother of a Lion-line,Be proud of those strong sons of thineWho wrench'd their rights from thee!What wonder if in noble heatThose men thine arms withstood,Retaught the lesson thou had'st taught,And in thy spirit with thee fought,—Who sprang from English blood!But thou rejoice with liberal joy,Lift up thy rocky face,And shatter, when the storms are black,In many a streaming torrent back,The seas that shock thy base!Whatever harmonies of lawThe growing world assume,Thy work is thine—the single noteFrom that deep chord which Hampden smoteWill vibrate to the doom.Alfred Tennyson.
O Thou, that sendest out the manTo rule by land and sea,Strong mother of a Lion-line,Be proud of those strong sons of thineWho wrench'd their rights from thee!
What wonder if in noble heatThose men thine arms withstood,Retaught the lesson thou had'st taught,And in thy spirit with thee fought,—Who sprang from English blood!
But thou rejoice with liberal joy,Lift up thy rocky face,And shatter, when the storms are black,In many a streaming torrent back,The seas that shock thy base!
Whatever harmonies of lawThe growing world assume,Thy work is thine—the single noteFrom that deep chord which Hampden smoteWill vibrate to the doom.
Alfred Tennyson.
A preliminary treaty of peace was finally agreed upon. Carleton received orders to evacuate New York, and on October 18, 1783, Congress issued a general order disbanding the American army.
A preliminary treaty of peace was finally agreed upon. Carleton received orders to evacuate New York, and on October 18, 1783, Congress issued a general order disbanding the American army.
ON DISBANDING THE ARMY
[October 18, 1783]
Ye brave Columbian bands! a long farewell!Well have ye fought for freedom—nobly doneYour martial task—the meed immortal won—And Time's last records shall your triumphs tell.Once friendship made their cup of suff'rings sweet—The dregs how bitter, now those bands must part!Ah! never, never more on earth to meet;Distill'd from gall that inundates the heart,What tears from heroes' eyes are seen to start!Ye, too, farewell, who fell in fields of gore,And chang'd tempestuous toil for rest serene;Soon shall we join you on the peaceful shore(Though gulfs irremeable roll between),Thither by death-tides borne, as ye full soon have been.David Humphreys.
Ye brave Columbian bands! a long farewell!Well have ye fought for freedom—nobly doneYour martial task—the meed immortal won—And Time's last records shall your triumphs tell.Once friendship made their cup of suff'rings sweet—The dregs how bitter, now those bands must part!Ah! never, never more on earth to meet;Distill'd from gall that inundates the heart,What tears from heroes' eyes are seen to start!Ye, too, farewell, who fell in fields of gore,And chang'd tempestuous toil for rest serene;Soon shall we join you on the peaceful shore(Though gulfs irremeable roll between),Thither by death-tides borne, as ye full soon have been.David Humphreys.
Ye brave Columbian bands! a long farewell!Well have ye fought for freedom—nobly doneYour martial task—the meed immortal won—And Time's last records shall your triumphs tell.
Once friendship made their cup of suff'rings sweet—The dregs how bitter, now those bands must part!Ah! never, never more on earth to meet;Distill'd from gall that inundates the heart,What tears from heroes' eyes are seen to start!
Ye, too, farewell, who fell in fields of gore,And chang'd tempestuous toil for rest serene;Soon shall we join you on the peaceful shore(Though gulfs irremeable roll between),Thither by death-tides borne, as ye full soon have been.
David Humphreys.
November 25 was fixed upon as the date for the evacuation of New York. Early on that day, Carleton got his troops on shipboard, and by the middle of the afternoon the city was in the hands of the Americans. The song which is given below was composed for and sung upon this occasion.
November 25 was fixed upon as the date for the evacuation of New York. Early on that day, Carleton got his troops on shipboard, and by the middle of the afternoon the city was in the hands of the Americans. The song which is given below was composed for and sung upon this occasion.
EVACUATION OF NEW YORK BY THE BRITISH
[November 25, 1783]
They come!—they come!—the heroes comeWith sounding fife, with thundering drum;Their ranks advance in bright array,—The heroes of America!He comes!—'tis mighty Washington(Words fail to tell all he has done),Our hero, guardian, father, friend!His fame can never, never end.He comes!—he comes!—our Clinton comes!Justice her ancient seat resumes:From shore to shore let shouts resound,For Justice comes, with Freedom crown'd.She comes!—the angelic virgin—Peace,And bids stern War his horrors cease;Oh! blooming virgin, with us stay,And bless, oh! bless America.Since Freedom has our efforts crown'd,Let flowing bumpers pass around:The toast is, "Freedom's favorite son,Health, peace, and joy to Washington!"
They come!—they come!—the heroes comeWith sounding fife, with thundering drum;Their ranks advance in bright array,—The heroes of America!He comes!—'tis mighty Washington(Words fail to tell all he has done),Our hero, guardian, father, friend!His fame can never, never end.He comes!—he comes!—our Clinton comes!Justice her ancient seat resumes:From shore to shore let shouts resound,For Justice comes, with Freedom crown'd.She comes!—the angelic virgin—Peace,And bids stern War his horrors cease;Oh! blooming virgin, with us stay,And bless, oh! bless America.Since Freedom has our efforts crown'd,Let flowing bumpers pass around:The toast is, "Freedom's favorite son,Health, peace, and joy to Washington!"
They come!—they come!—the heroes comeWith sounding fife, with thundering drum;Their ranks advance in bright array,—The heroes of America!
He comes!—'tis mighty Washington(Words fail to tell all he has done),Our hero, guardian, father, friend!His fame can never, never end.
He comes!—he comes!—our Clinton comes!Justice her ancient seat resumes:From shore to shore let shouts resound,For Justice comes, with Freedom crown'd.
She comes!—the angelic virgin—Peace,And bids stern War his horrors cease;Oh! blooming virgin, with us stay,And bless, oh! bless America.
Since Freedom has our efforts crown'd,Let flowing bumpers pass around:The toast is, "Freedom's favorite son,Health, peace, and joy to Washington!"
On Thursday, December 4, the principal officers of the army assembled at Fraunce's Tavern to take a final leave of their beloved chief. A few days later, at Annapolis, Washington resigned his commission, and betook himself to the quiet of his estate at Mount Vernon.
On Thursday, December 4, the principal officers of the army assembled at Fraunce's Tavern to take a final leave of their beloved chief. A few days later, at Annapolis, Washington resigned his commission, and betook himself to the quiet of his estate at Mount Vernon.
OCCASIONED BY GENERAL WASHINGTON'S ARRIVAL IN PHILADELPHIA, ON HIS WAY TO HIS RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA
[December, 1783]
The great unequal conflict past,The Briton banished from our shore,Peace, heaven-descended, comes at last,And hostile nations rage no more;From fields of death the weary swainReturning, seeks his native plain.In every vale she smiles serene,Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise,New charms she adds to every scene,Her brighter sun illumes our skies.Remotest realms admiring stand,And hail theHeroof our land:He comes!—the Genius of these lands—Fame's thousand tongues his worth confess,Who conquer'd with his suffering bands,And grew immortal by distress:Thus calms succeed the stormy blast,And valor is repaid at last.OWashington!—thrice glorious name,What due rewards can man decree—Empires are far below thy aim,And sceptres have no charms for thee;Virtuealone has your regard,And she must be your great reward.Encircled by extorted power,Monarchsmust envy yourRetreatWhocast, in some ill-fated hour,Their country's freedom at their feet;'Twas yours to act a nobler part,For injur'd Freedom had your heart.For ravag'd realms and conquer'd seasRome gave the great imperial prize,And, swell'd with pride, for feats like these,Transferr'd her heroes to the skies:—A brighter scene your deeds display,You gain those heights a different way.WhenFactionrear'd her bristly head,And join'd with tyrants to destroy,Where'er you march'd the monster fled,Timorous her arrows to employ:Hosts catch'd from you a bolder flame,And despots trembled at your name.Ere war's dread horrors ceas'd to reign,What leader could your place supply?—Chiefs crowded to the embattled plain,Prepar'd to conquer or to die—Heroes arose—but none, like you,Could save our lives and freedom too.In swelling verse let kings be read,And princes shine in polish'd prose;Without such aid your triumphs spreadWhere'er the convex ocean flows,To Indian worlds by seas embrac'd,And Tartar, tyrant of the waste.Throughout the east you gain applause,And soon theOld World, taught by you,Shall blush to own her barbarous laws,Shall learn instruction from theNew.Monarchs shall hear the humble plea,Nor urge too far the proud decree.Despising pomp and vain parade,At home you stay, while France and SpainThe secret, ardent wish convey'd,And hail'd you to their shores in vain:InVernon'sgroves you shun the throne,Admir'd by kings, but seen by none.Your fame, thus spread to distant lands,May envy's fiercest blasts endure,Like Egypt's pyramids it stands,Built on a basis more secure;Time's latest age shall own in youThe patriot and the statesman too.Now hurrying from the busy scene,Where thyPotowmack'swaters flow,May'st thou enjoy thy rural reign,And every earthly blessing know;Thus he, who Rome's proud legions sway'd,Return'd, and sought his sylvan shade.Not less in wisdom than in warFreedomshall still employ your mind,Slaverymust vanish, wide and far,Till not a trace is left behind;Your counsels not bestow'd in vain,Shall still protect this infant reign.So, when the bright, all-cheering sunFrom our contracted view retires,Though folly deems his race is run,On other worlds he lights his fires:Cold climes beneath his influence glow,And frozen rivers learn to flow.O say, thou great, exalted name!What Muse can boast of equal lays,Thy worth disdains all vulgar fame,Transcends the noblest poet's praise.Art soars, unequal to the flight,And genius sickens at the height.For States redeem'd—our western reignRestor'd by thee to milder sway,Thy conscious glory shall remainWhen this great globe is swept awayAndallis lost that pride admires,And all the pageant scene expires.Philip Freneau.
The great unequal conflict past,The Briton banished from our shore,Peace, heaven-descended, comes at last,And hostile nations rage no more;From fields of death the weary swainReturning, seeks his native plain.In every vale she smiles serene,Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise,New charms she adds to every scene,Her brighter sun illumes our skies.Remotest realms admiring stand,And hail theHeroof our land:He comes!—the Genius of these lands—Fame's thousand tongues his worth confess,Who conquer'd with his suffering bands,And grew immortal by distress:Thus calms succeed the stormy blast,And valor is repaid at last.OWashington!—thrice glorious name,What due rewards can man decree—Empires are far below thy aim,And sceptres have no charms for thee;Virtuealone has your regard,And she must be your great reward.Encircled by extorted power,Monarchsmust envy yourRetreatWhocast, in some ill-fated hour,Their country's freedom at their feet;'Twas yours to act a nobler part,For injur'd Freedom had your heart.For ravag'd realms and conquer'd seasRome gave the great imperial prize,And, swell'd with pride, for feats like these,Transferr'd her heroes to the skies:—A brighter scene your deeds display,You gain those heights a different way.WhenFactionrear'd her bristly head,And join'd with tyrants to destroy,Where'er you march'd the monster fled,Timorous her arrows to employ:Hosts catch'd from you a bolder flame,And despots trembled at your name.Ere war's dread horrors ceas'd to reign,What leader could your place supply?—Chiefs crowded to the embattled plain,Prepar'd to conquer or to die—Heroes arose—but none, like you,Could save our lives and freedom too.In swelling verse let kings be read,And princes shine in polish'd prose;Without such aid your triumphs spreadWhere'er the convex ocean flows,To Indian worlds by seas embrac'd,And Tartar, tyrant of the waste.Throughout the east you gain applause,And soon theOld World, taught by you,Shall blush to own her barbarous laws,Shall learn instruction from theNew.Monarchs shall hear the humble plea,Nor urge too far the proud decree.Despising pomp and vain parade,At home you stay, while France and SpainThe secret, ardent wish convey'd,And hail'd you to their shores in vain:InVernon'sgroves you shun the throne,Admir'd by kings, but seen by none.Your fame, thus spread to distant lands,May envy's fiercest blasts endure,Like Egypt's pyramids it stands,Built on a basis more secure;Time's latest age shall own in youThe patriot and the statesman too.Now hurrying from the busy scene,Where thyPotowmack'swaters flow,May'st thou enjoy thy rural reign,And every earthly blessing know;Thus he, who Rome's proud legions sway'd,Return'd, and sought his sylvan shade.Not less in wisdom than in warFreedomshall still employ your mind,Slaverymust vanish, wide and far,Till not a trace is left behind;Your counsels not bestow'd in vain,Shall still protect this infant reign.So, when the bright, all-cheering sunFrom our contracted view retires,Though folly deems his race is run,On other worlds he lights his fires:Cold climes beneath his influence glow,And frozen rivers learn to flow.O say, thou great, exalted name!What Muse can boast of equal lays,Thy worth disdains all vulgar fame,Transcends the noblest poet's praise.Art soars, unequal to the flight,And genius sickens at the height.For States redeem'd—our western reignRestor'd by thee to milder sway,Thy conscious glory shall remainWhen this great globe is swept awayAndallis lost that pride admires,And all the pageant scene expires.Philip Freneau.
The great unequal conflict past,The Briton banished from our shore,Peace, heaven-descended, comes at last,And hostile nations rage no more;From fields of death the weary swainReturning, seeks his native plain.
In every vale she smiles serene,Freedom's bright stars more radiant rise,New charms she adds to every scene,Her brighter sun illumes our skies.Remotest realms admiring stand,And hail theHeroof our land:
He comes!—the Genius of these lands—Fame's thousand tongues his worth confess,Who conquer'd with his suffering bands,And grew immortal by distress:Thus calms succeed the stormy blast,And valor is repaid at last.
OWashington!—thrice glorious name,What due rewards can man decree—Empires are far below thy aim,And sceptres have no charms for thee;Virtuealone has your regard,And she must be your great reward.
Encircled by extorted power,Monarchsmust envy yourRetreatWhocast, in some ill-fated hour,Their country's freedom at their feet;'Twas yours to act a nobler part,For injur'd Freedom had your heart.
For ravag'd realms and conquer'd seasRome gave the great imperial prize,And, swell'd with pride, for feats like these,Transferr'd her heroes to the skies:—A brighter scene your deeds display,You gain those heights a different way.
WhenFactionrear'd her bristly head,And join'd with tyrants to destroy,Where'er you march'd the monster fled,Timorous her arrows to employ:Hosts catch'd from you a bolder flame,And despots trembled at your name.
Ere war's dread horrors ceas'd to reign,What leader could your place supply?—Chiefs crowded to the embattled plain,Prepar'd to conquer or to die—Heroes arose—but none, like you,Could save our lives and freedom too.
In swelling verse let kings be read,And princes shine in polish'd prose;Without such aid your triumphs spreadWhere'er the convex ocean flows,To Indian worlds by seas embrac'd,And Tartar, tyrant of the waste.
Throughout the east you gain applause,And soon theOld World, taught by you,Shall blush to own her barbarous laws,Shall learn instruction from theNew.Monarchs shall hear the humble plea,Nor urge too far the proud decree.
Despising pomp and vain parade,At home you stay, while France and SpainThe secret, ardent wish convey'd,And hail'd you to their shores in vain:InVernon'sgroves you shun the throne,Admir'd by kings, but seen by none.
Your fame, thus spread to distant lands,May envy's fiercest blasts endure,Like Egypt's pyramids it stands,Built on a basis more secure;Time's latest age shall own in youThe patriot and the statesman too.
Now hurrying from the busy scene,Where thyPotowmack'swaters flow,May'st thou enjoy thy rural reign,And every earthly blessing know;Thus he, who Rome's proud legions sway'd,Return'd, and sought his sylvan shade.
Not less in wisdom than in warFreedomshall still employ your mind,Slaverymust vanish, wide and far,Till not a trace is left behind;Your counsels not bestow'd in vain,Shall still protect this infant reign.
So, when the bright, all-cheering sunFrom our contracted view retires,Though folly deems his race is run,On other worlds he lights his fires:Cold climes beneath his influence glow,And frozen rivers learn to flow.
O say, thou great, exalted name!What Muse can boast of equal lays,Thy worth disdains all vulgar fame,Transcends the noblest poet's praise.Art soars, unequal to the flight,And genius sickens at the height.
For States redeem'd—our western reignRestor'd by thee to milder sway,Thy conscious glory shall remainWhen this great globe is swept awayAndallis lost that pride admires,And all the pageant scene expires.
Philip Freneau.
Early in January, word reached America that the definite treaty of peace had been signed at Paris on November 30, 1783. The independence of the United States was acknowledged; the Mississippi was set as the western boundary of the country, the St. Croix and the Great Lakes as the northern, and the Gulf of Mexico as the southern. On January 14, 1784, this treaty was ratified by Congress.
Early in January, word reached America that the definite treaty of peace had been signed at Paris on November 30, 1783. The independence of the United States was acknowledged; the Mississippi was set as the western boundary of the country, the St. Croix and the Great Lakes as the northern, and the Gulf of Mexico as the southern. On January 14, 1784, this treaty was ratified by Congress.
THE AMERICAN SOLDIER'S HYMN
'Tis God that girds our armor on,And all our just designs fulfils;Through Him our feet can swiftly run,And nimbly climb the steepest hills.Lessons of war from Him we take,And manly weapons learn to wield;Strong bows of steel with ease we break,Forced by our stronger arms to yield.'Tis God that still supports our right,His just revenge our foes pursues;'Tis He that with resistless might,Fierce nations to His power subdues.Our universal safeguard He!From Whom our lasting honors flow;He made us great, and set us freeFrom our remorseless bloody foe.Therefore to celebrate His fame,Our grateful voice to Heaven we'll raise;And nations, strangers to His name,Shall thus be taught to sing His praise.
'Tis God that girds our armor on,And all our just designs fulfils;Through Him our feet can swiftly run,And nimbly climb the steepest hills.Lessons of war from Him we take,And manly weapons learn to wield;Strong bows of steel with ease we break,Forced by our stronger arms to yield.'Tis God that still supports our right,His just revenge our foes pursues;'Tis He that with resistless might,Fierce nations to His power subdues.Our universal safeguard He!From Whom our lasting honors flow;He made us great, and set us freeFrom our remorseless bloody foe.Therefore to celebrate His fame,Our grateful voice to Heaven we'll raise;And nations, strangers to His name,Shall thus be taught to sing His praise.
'Tis God that girds our armor on,And all our just designs fulfils;Through Him our feet can swiftly run,And nimbly climb the steepest hills.
Lessons of war from Him we take,And manly weapons learn to wield;Strong bows of steel with ease we break,Forced by our stronger arms to yield.
'Tis God that still supports our right,His just revenge our foes pursues;'Tis He that with resistless might,Fierce nations to His power subdues.
Our universal safeguard He!From Whom our lasting honors flow;He made us great, and set us freeFrom our remorseless bloody foe.
Therefore to celebrate His fame,Our grateful voice to Heaven we'll raise;And nations, strangers to His name,Shall thus be taught to sing His praise.
A day of solemn thanksgiving was set apart and universally observed throughout the country, which set its face toward the future, with a heart full of hope and high resolve.
A day of solemn thanksgiving was set apart and universally observed throughout the country, which set its face toward the future, with a heart full of hope and high resolve.
THANKSGIVING HYMN
The Lord above, in tender love,Hath sav'd us from our foes;Through Washington the thing is done,The war is at a close.America has won the day,Through Washington, our chief;Come let's rejoice with heart and voice,And bid adieu to grief.Now we have peace, and may increaseIn number, wealth, and arts,If every one, like Washington,Will strive to do their parts.Then let's agree, since we are free,All needless things to shun;And lay aside all pomp and pride,Like our great Washington.Use industry, and frugal be,Like Washington the brave;So shall we see, 'twill easy be,Our country for to save,From present wars and future foes,And all that we may fear;While Washington, the great brave one,Shall as our chief appear.Industry and frugalityWill all our taxes pay;In virtuous ways, we'll spend our days,And for our rulers pray.The Thirteen States, united sets,In Congress simply grand;The Lord himself preserve their health,That they may rule the land.Whilst every State, without its mate,Doth rule itself by laws,Will sovereign be, and always free;To grieve there is no cause.But all should try, both low and high,Our freedom to maintain;Pray God to bless our grand Congress,And cease from every sin.Then sure am I, true libertyOf every sort will thrive;With one accord we'll praise the Lord,All glory to Him give.To whom all praise is due always,For He is all in all;George Washington, that noble one,On His great name doth call.Our Congress too, before they do,Acknowledge Him supreme;Come let us all before Him fall,And glorify His name.
The Lord above, in tender love,Hath sav'd us from our foes;Through Washington the thing is done,The war is at a close.America has won the day,Through Washington, our chief;Come let's rejoice with heart and voice,And bid adieu to grief.Now we have peace, and may increaseIn number, wealth, and arts,If every one, like Washington,Will strive to do their parts.Then let's agree, since we are free,All needless things to shun;And lay aside all pomp and pride,Like our great Washington.Use industry, and frugal be,Like Washington the brave;So shall we see, 'twill easy be,Our country for to save,From present wars and future foes,And all that we may fear;While Washington, the great brave one,Shall as our chief appear.Industry and frugalityWill all our taxes pay;In virtuous ways, we'll spend our days,And for our rulers pray.The Thirteen States, united sets,In Congress simply grand;The Lord himself preserve their health,That they may rule the land.Whilst every State, without its mate,Doth rule itself by laws,Will sovereign be, and always free;To grieve there is no cause.But all should try, both low and high,Our freedom to maintain;Pray God to bless our grand Congress,And cease from every sin.Then sure am I, true libertyOf every sort will thrive;With one accord we'll praise the Lord,All glory to Him give.To whom all praise is due always,For He is all in all;George Washington, that noble one,On His great name doth call.Our Congress too, before they do,Acknowledge Him supreme;Come let us all before Him fall,And glorify His name.
The Lord above, in tender love,Hath sav'd us from our foes;Through Washington the thing is done,The war is at a close.
America has won the day,Through Washington, our chief;Come let's rejoice with heart and voice,And bid adieu to grief.
Now we have peace, and may increaseIn number, wealth, and arts,If every one, like Washington,Will strive to do their parts.
Then let's agree, since we are free,All needless things to shun;And lay aside all pomp and pride,Like our great Washington.
Use industry, and frugal be,Like Washington the brave;So shall we see, 'twill easy be,Our country for to save,
From present wars and future foes,And all that we may fear;While Washington, the great brave one,Shall as our chief appear.
Industry and frugalityWill all our taxes pay;In virtuous ways, we'll spend our days,And for our rulers pray.
The Thirteen States, united sets,In Congress simply grand;The Lord himself preserve their health,That they may rule the land.
Whilst every State, without its mate,Doth rule itself by laws,Will sovereign be, and always free;To grieve there is no cause.
But all should try, both low and high,Our freedom to maintain;Pray God to bless our grand Congress,And cease from every sin.
Then sure am I, true libertyOf every sort will thrive;With one accord we'll praise the Lord,All glory to Him give.
To whom all praise is due always,For He is all in all;George Washington, that noble one,On His great name doth call.
Our Congress too, before they do,Acknowledge Him supreme;Come let us all before Him fall,And glorify His name.
LAND OF THE WILFUL GOSPEL[6]
From "Psalm of the West"
Land of the Wilful Gospel, thou worst and thou best;Tall Adam of lands, new-made of the dust of the West;Thou wroughtest alone in the Garden of God, unblestTill He fashioned lithe Freedom to lie for thine Eve on thy breast—Till out of thy heart's dear neighborhood, out of thy side,He fashioned an intimate Sweet one and brought thee a Bride.Cry hail! nor bewail that the wound of her coming was wide.Lo, Freedom reached forth where the world as an apple hung red;Let us taste the whole radiant round of it, gayly she said:If we die, at the worst we shall lie as the first of the dead.Knowledge of Good and of Ill, O Land! she hath given thee;Perilous godhoods of choosing have rent thee and riven thee;Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee—Freedom, thy Wife, hath uplifted thy life and clean shriven thee!Her shalt thou clasp for a balm to the scars of thy breast,Her shalt thou kiss for a calm to thy wars of unrest,Her shalt extol in the psalm of the soul of the West.For Weakness, in freedom, grows stronger than Strength with a chain;And Error, in freedom, will come to lamenting his stain,Till freely repenting he whiten his spirit again;And Friendship, in freedom, will blot out the bounding of race;And straight Law, in freedom, will curve to the rounding of grace;And Fashion, in freedom, will die of the lie in her face.Sidney Lanier.
Land of the Wilful Gospel, thou worst and thou best;Tall Adam of lands, new-made of the dust of the West;Thou wroughtest alone in the Garden of God, unblestTill He fashioned lithe Freedom to lie for thine Eve on thy breast—Till out of thy heart's dear neighborhood, out of thy side,He fashioned an intimate Sweet one and brought thee a Bride.Cry hail! nor bewail that the wound of her coming was wide.Lo, Freedom reached forth where the world as an apple hung red;Let us taste the whole radiant round of it, gayly she said:If we die, at the worst we shall lie as the first of the dead.Knowledge of Good and of Ill, O Land! she hath given thee;Perilous godhoods of choosing have rent thee and riven thee;Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee—Freedom, thy Wife, hath uplifted thy life and clean shriven thee!Her shalt thou clasp for a balm to the scars of thy breast,Her shalt thou kiss for a calm to thy wars of unrest,Her shalt extol in the psalm of the soul of the West.For Weakness, in freedom, grows stronger than Strength with a chain;And Error, in freedom, will come to lamenting his stain,Till freely repenting he whiten his spirit again;And Friendship, in freedom, will blot out the bounding of race;And straight Law, in freedom, will curve to the rounding of grace;And Fashion, in freedom, will die of the lie in her face.Sidney Lanier.
Land of the Wilful Gospel, thou worst and thou best;Tall Adam of lands, new-made of the dust of the West;Thou wroughtest alone in the Garden of God, unblestTill He fashioned lithe Freedom to lie for thine Eve on thy breast—Till out of thy heart's dear neighborhood, out of thy side,He fashioned an intimate Sweet one and brought thee a Bride.Cry hail! nor bewail that the wound of her coming was wide.Lo, Freedom reached forth where the world as an apple hung red;Let us taste the whole radiant round of it, gayly she said:If we die, at the worst we shall lie as the first of the dead.Knowledge of Good and of Ill, O Land! she hath given thee;Perilous godhoods of choosing have rent thee and riven thee;Will's high adoring to Ill's low exploring hath driven thee—Freedom, thy Wife, hath uplifted thy life and clean shriven thee!Her shalt thou clasp for a balm to the scars of thy breast,Her shalt thou kiss for a calm to thy wars of unrest,Her shalt extol in the psalm of the soul of the West.For Weakness, in freedom, grows stronger than Strength with a chain;And Error, in freedom, will come to lamenting his stain,Till freely repenting he whiten his spirit again;And Friendship, in freedom, will blot out the bounding of race;And straight Law, in freedom, will curve to the rounding of grace;And Fashion, in freedom, will die of the lie in her face.
Sidney Lanier.
"OH MOTHER OF A MIGHTY RACE"
Oh mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming years.With words of shameAnd taunts of scorn they join thy name.For on thy cheeks the glow is spreadThat tints thy morning hills with red;Thy step—the wild deer's rustling feetWithin thy woods are not more fleet;Thy hopeful eyeIs bright as thine own sunny sky.Ay, let them rail—those haughty ones,While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.They do not know how loved thou art,How many a fond and fearless heartWould rise to throwIts life between thee and the foe.They know not, in their hate and pride,What virtues with thy children bide;How true, how good, thy graceful maidsMake bright, like flowers, the valley-shades;What generous menSpring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;—What cordial welcomes greet the guestBy thy lone rivers of the West;How faith is kept, and truth revered,And man is loved, and God is feared,In woodland homes,And where the ocean border foams.There's freedom at thy gates and restFor earth's down-trodden and opprest,A shelter for the hunted head,For the starved laborer toil and bread.Power, at thy bounds,Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.Oh, fair young mother! on thy browShall sit a nobler grace than now.Deep in the brightness of the skiesThe thronging years in glory rise,And, as they fleet,Drop strength and riches at thy feet.William Cullen Bryant.
Oh mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming years.With words of shameAnd taunts of scorn they join thy name.For on thy cheeks the glow is spreadThat tints thy morning hills with red;Thy step—the wild deer's rustling feetWithin thy woods are not more fleet;Thy hopeful eyeIs bright as thine own sunny sky.Ay, let them rail—those haughty ones,While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.They do not know how loved thou art,How many a fond and fearless heartWould rise to throwIts life between thee and the foe.They know not, in their hate and pride,What virtues with thy children bide;How true, how good, thy graceful maidsMake bright, like flowers, the valley-shades;What generous menSpring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;—What cordial welcomes greet the guestBy thy lone rivers of the West;How faith is kept, and truth revered,And man is loved, and God is feared,In woodland homes,And where the ocean border foams.There's freedom at thy gates and restFor earth's down-trodden and opprest,A shelter for the hunted head,For the starved laborer toil and bread.Power, at thy bounds,Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.Oh, fair young mother! on thy browShall sit a nobler grace than now.Deep in the brightness of the skiesThe thronging years in glory rise,And, as they fleet,Drop strength and riches at thy feet.William Cullen Bryant.
Oh mother of a mighty race,Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!The elder dames, thy haughty peers,Admire and hate thy blooming years.With words of shameAnd taunts of scorn they join thy name.
For on thy cheeks the glow is spreadThat tints thy morning hills with red;Thy step—the wild deer's rustling feetWithin thy woods are not more fleet;Thy hopeful eyeIs bright as thine own sunny sky.
Ay, let them rail—those haughty ones,While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.They do not know how loved thou art,How many a fond and fearless heartWould rise to throwIts life between thee and the foe.
They know not, in their hate and pride,What virtues with thy children bide;How true, how good, thy graceful maidsMake bright, like flowers, the valley-shades;What generous menSpring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen;—
What cordial welcomes greet the guestBy thy lone rivers of the West;How faith is kept, and truth revered,And man is loved, and God is feared,In woodland homes,And where the ocean border foams.
There's freedom at thy gates and restFor earth's down-trodden and opprest,A shelter for the hunted head,For the starved laborer toil and bread.Power, at thy bounds,Stops and calls back his baffled hounds.
Oh, fair young mother! on thy browShall sit a nobler grace than now.Deep in the brightness of the skiesThe thronging years in glory rise,And, as they fleet,Drop strength and riches at thy feet.
William Cullen Bryant.
THE NEW NATION
The war was ended, but the five years following 1783 were perhaps the most critical in the history of the American people. The country was at the verge of bankruptcy, there was discontent everywhere. In Massachusetts, the malcontents found a leader in Daniel Shays, rose in rebellion, looted the country, and were not dispersed for nearly a year.
The war was ended, but the five years following 1783 were perhaps the most critical in the history of the American people. The country was at the verge of bankruptcy, there was discontent everywhere. In Massachusetts, the malcontents found a leader in Daniel Shays, rose in rebellion, looted the country, and were not dispersed for nearly a year.
A RADICAL SONG OF 1786
Huzza, my Jo Bunkers!no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons, and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws:Constitutions and oaths, sir, we mind not a rush;Such trifles must yield to us lads of the bush.New laws and new charters our books shall display,Composed by conventions and Counsellor Grey.Since Boston and Salem so haughty have grown,We'll make them to know we can let them alone.Of Glasgow or Pelham we'll make a seaport,And there we'll assemble our General Court:Our governor, now, boys, shall turn out to work,And live, like ourselves, on molasses and pork;In Adams or Greenwich he'll live like a peerOn three hundred pounds, paper money, a year.Grand jurors, and sheriffs, and lawyers we'll spurn,As judges, we'll all take the bench in our turn,And sit the whole term, without pension or fee,Nor Cushing nor Sewal look graver than we.Our wigs, though they're rusty, are decent enough;Our aprons, though black, are of durable stuff;Array'd in such gear, the laws we'll explain,That poor people no more shall have cause to complain.To Congress and impost we'll plead a release;The French we can beat half-a-dozen apiece;We want not their guineas, their arms, or alliance;And as for the Dutchmen, we bid them defiance.Then huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws.St. John Honeywood.
Huzza, my Jo Bunkers!no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons, and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws:Constitutions and oaths, sir, we mind not a rush;Such trifles must yield to us lads of the bush.New laws and new charters our books shall display,Composed by conventions and Counsellor Grey.Since Boston and Salem so haughty have grown,We'll make them to know we can let them alone.Of Glasgow or Pelham we'll make a seaport,And there we'll assemble our General Court:Our governor, now, boys, shall turn out to work,And live, like ourselves, on molasses and pork;In Adams or Greenwich he'll live like a peerOn three hundred pounds, paper money, a year.Grand jurors, and sheriffs, and lawyers we'll spurn,As judges, we'll all take the bench in our turn,And sit the whole term, without pension or fee,Nor Cushing nor Sewal look graver than we.Our wigs, though they're rusty, are decent enough;Our aprons, though black, are of durable stuff;Array'd in such gear, the laws we'll explain,That poor people no more shall have cause to complain.To Congress and impost we'll plead a release;The French we can beat half-a-dozen apiece;We want not their guineas, their arms, or alliance;And as for the Dutchmen, we bid them defiance.Then huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws.St. John Honeywood.
Huzza, my Jo Bunkers!no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons, and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws:Constitutions and oaths, sir, we mind not a rush;Such trifles must yield to us lads of the bush.New laws and new charters our books shall display,Composed by conventions and Counsellor Grey.
Since Boston and Salem so haughty have grown,We'll make them to know we can let them alone.Of Glasgow or Pelham we'll make a seaport,And there we'll assemble our General Court:Our governor, now, boys, shall turn out to work,And live, like ourselves, on molasses and pork;In Adams or Greenwich he'll live like a peerOn three hundred pounds, paper money, a year.
Grand jurors, and sheriffs, and lawyers we'll spurn,As judges, we'll all take the bench in our turn,And sit the whole term, without pension or fee,Nor Cushing nor Sewal look graver than we.Our wigs, though they're rusty, are decent enough;Our aprons, though black, are of durable stuff;Array'd in such gear, the laws we'll explain,That poor people no more shall have cause to complain.
To Congress and impost we'll plead a release;The French we can beat half-a-dozen apiece;We want not their guineas, their arms, or alliance;And as for the Dutchmen, we bid them defiance.Then huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay;Here's a pardon for Wheeler, Shays, Parsons and Day;Put green boughs in your hats, and renew the old cause;Stop the courts in each county, and bully the laws.
St. John Honeywood.
A federal convention was proposed, and in May, 1787, there assembled at Philadelphia fifty-five men appointed by the various states to devise an adequate constitution for a federal government.
A federal convention was proposed, and in May, 1787, there assembled at Philadelphia fifty-five men appointed by the various states to devise an adequate constitution for a federal government.
THE FEDERAL CONVENTION
[May, 1787]
Concentred here th' united wisdom shines,Of learn'd judges, and of sound divines:Patriots, whose virtues searching time has tried,Heroes, who fought, where brother heroes died;Lawyers, who speak, as Tully spoke before,Sages, deep read in philosophic lore;Merchants, whose plans are to no realms confin'd,Farmers—the noblest title 'mongst mankind:Yeomen and tradesmen, pillars of the state;On whose decision hangs Columbia's fate.September, 1787.
Concentred here th' united wisdom shines,Of learn'd judges, and of sound divines:Patriots, whose virtues searching time has tried,Heroes, who fought, where brother heroes died;Lawyers, who speak, as Tully spoke before,Sages, deep read in philosophic lore;Merchants, whose plans are to no realms confin'd,Farmers—the noblest title 'mongst mankind:Yeomen and tradesmen, pillars of the state;On whose decision hangs Columbia's fate.September, 1787.
Concentred here th' united wisdom shines,Of learn'd judges, and of sound divines:Patriots, whose virtues searching time has tried,Heroes, who fought, where brother heroes died;Lawyers, who speak, as Tully spoke before,Sages, deep read in philosophic lore;Merchants, whose plans are to no realms confin'd,Farmers—the noblest title 'mongst mankind:Yeomen and tradesmen, pillars of the state;On whose decision hangs Columbia's fate.
September, 1787.
George Washington was chosen president of the convention; the doors were locked, and the Herculean task of making a constitution begun. Washington himself, in a burst of noble eloquence, braced the delegates for the task before them. The problem was to devise a government which should bind all the states without impairing their sovereignty.
George Washington was chosen president of the convention; the doors were locked, and the Herculean task of making a constitution begun. Washington himself, in a burst of noble eloquence, braced the delegates for the task before them. The problem was to devise a government which should bind all the states without impairing their sovereignty.
TO THE FEDERAL CONVENTION
[1787]
Be then your counsels, as your subject, great,A world their sphere, and time's long reign their date.Each party-view, each private good, disclaim,Each petty maxim, each colonial aim;Let all Columbia's weal your views expand,A mighty system rule a mighty land;Yourselves her genuine sons let Europe own,Not the small agents of a paltry town.Learn, cautious, what to alter, where to mend;See to what close projected measures tend.From pressing wants the mind averting still,Thinks good remotest from the present ill:From feuds anarchial to oppression's throne,Misguided nations hence for safety run;And through the miseries of a thousand years,Their fatal folly mourn in bloody tears.Ten thousand follies thro' Columbia spread;Ten thousand wars her darling realms invade.The private interest of each jealous state;Of rule th' impatience and of law the hate.But ah! from narrow springs these evils flow,A few base wretches mingle general woe;Still the same mind her manly race pervades;Still the same virtues haunt the hallow'd shades.But when the peals of war her centre shook,All private aims the anxious mind forsook.In danger's iron-bond her race was one,Each separate good, each little view unknown.Now rule, unsystem'd, drives the mind astray;Now private interest points the downward way:Hence civil discord pours her muddy stream,And fools and villains float upon the brim;O'er all, the sad spectator casts his eye,And wonders where the gems and minerals lie.But ne'er of freedom, glory, bliss, despond:Uplift your eyes those little clouds beyond;See there returning suns, with gladdening ray,Roll on fair spring to chase this wint'ry day.'Tis yours to bid those days of Eden shine:First, then, and last, the federal bands entwine:To this your every aim and effort bend:Let all your efforts here commence and end.O'er state concerns, let every state preside;Its private tax controul; its justice guide;Religion aid; the morals to secure;And bid each private right thro' time endure.Columbia's interests public sway demand,Her commerce, impost, unlocated land;Her war, her peace, her military power;Treaties to seal with every distant shore;To bid contending states their discord cease;To send thro' all the calumet of peace;Science to wing thro' every noble flight;And lift desponding genius into light.Be then your task to alter, aid, amend;The weak to strengthen, and the rigid bend;The prurient lop; what's wanted to supply;And grant new scions from each friendly sky.Timothy Dwight.
Be then your counsels, as your subject, great,A world their sphere, and time's long reign their date.Each party-view, each private good, disclaim,Each petty maxim, each colonial aim;Let all Columbia's weal your views expand,A mighty system rule a mighty land;Yourselves her genuine sons let Europe own,Not the small agents of a paltry town.Learn, cautious, what to alter, where to mend;See to what close projected measures tend.From pressing wants the mind averting still,Thinks good remotest from the present ill:From feuds anarchial to oppression's throne,Misguided nations hence for safety run;And through the miseries of a thousand years,Their fatal folly mourn in bloody tears.Ten thousand follies thro' Columbia spread;Ten thousand wars her darling realms invade.The private interest of each jealous state;Of rule th' impatience and of law the hate.But ah! from narrow springs these evils flow,A few base wretches mingle general woe;Still the same mind her manly race pervades;Still the same virtues haunt the hallow'd shades.But when the peals of war her centre shook,All private aims the anxious mind forsook.In danger's iron-bond her race was one,Each separate good, each little view unknown.Now rule, unsystem'd, drives the mind astray;Now private interest points the downward way:Hence civil discord pours her muddy stream,And fools and villains float upon the brim;O'er all, the sad spectator casts his eye,And wonders where the gems and minerals lie.But ne'er of freedom, glory, bliss, despond:Uplift your eyes those little clouds beyond;See there returning suns, with gladdening ray,Roll on fair spring to chase this wint'ry day.'Tis yours to bid those days of Eden shine:First, then, and last, the federal bands entwine:To this your every aim and effort bend:Let all your efforts here commence and end.O'er state concerns, let every state preside;Its private tax controul; its justice guide;Religion aid; the morals to secure;And bid each private right thro' time endure.Columbia's interests public sway demand,Her commerce, impost, unlocated land;Her war, her peace, her military power;Treaties to seal with every distant shore;To bid contending states their discord cease;To send thro' all the calumet of peace;Science to wing thro' every noble flight;And lift desponding genius into light.Be then your task to alter, aid, amend;The weak to strengthen, and the rigid bend;The prurient lop; what's wanted to supply;And grant new scions from each friendly sky.Timothy Dwight.
Be then your counsels, as your subject, great,A world their sphere, and time's long reign their date.Each party-view, each private good, disclaim,Each petty maxim, each colonial aim;Let all Columbia's weal your views expand,A mighty system rule a mighty land;Yourselves her genuine sons let Europe own,Not the small agents of a paltry town.Learn, cautious, what to alter, where to mend;See to what close projected measures tend.From pressing wants the mind averting still,Thinks good remotest from the present ill:From feuds anarchial to oppression's throne,Misguided nations hence for safety run;And through the miseries of a thousand years,Their fatal folly mourn in bloody tears.Ten thousand follies thro' Columbia spread;Ten thousand wars her darling realms invade.The private interest of each jealous state;Of rule th' impatience and of law the hate.But ah! from narrow springs these evils flow,A few base wretches mingle general woe;Still the same mind her manly race pervades;Still the same virtues haunt the hallow'd shades.But when the peals of war her centre shook,All private aims the anxious mind forsook.In danger's iron-bond her race was one,Each separate good, each little view unknown.Now rule, unsystem'd, drives the mind astray;Now private interest points the downward way:Hence civil discord pours her muddy stream,And fools and villains float upon the brim;O'er all, the sad spectator casts his eye,And wonders where the gems and minerals lie.But ne'er of freedom, glory, bliss, despond:Uplift your eyes those little clouds beyond;See there returning suns, with gladdening ray,Roll on fair spring to chase this wint'ry day.'Tis yours to bid those days of Eden shine:First, then, and last, the federal bands entwine:To this your every aim and effort bend:Let all your efforts here commence and end.O'er state concerns, let every state preside;Its private tax controul; its justice guide;Religion aid; the morals to secure;And bid each private right thro' time endure.Columbia's interests public sway demand,Her commerce, impost, unlocated land;Her war, her peace, her military power;Treaties to seal with every distant shore;To bid contending states their discord cease;To send thro' all the calumet of peace;Science to wing thro' every noble flight;And lift desponding genius into light.Be then your task to alter, aid, amend;The weak to strengthen, and the rigid bend;The prurient lop; what's wanted to supply;And grant new scions from each friendly sky.
Timothy Dwight.
There was a natural antagonism between large and small states, and more than once the convention was on the verge of dissolution; but a compromise was finally reached, the constitution as we know it was evolved and signed by all the delegates, and on September 17, 1787, the convention adjourned. The constitution was familiarly styled the "new roof."
There was a natural antagonism between large and small states, and more than once the convention was on the verge of dissolution; but a compromise was finally reached, the constitution as we know it was evolved and signed by all the delegates, and on September 17, 1787, the convention adjourned. The constitution was familiarly styled the "new roof."
THE NEW ROOF
A SONG FOR FEDERAL MECHANICS
[1787]
ICome muster, my lads, your mechanical tools,Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules;Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line,And plenty of pins of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.IICome, up withthe plates, lay them firm on the wall,Like the people at large, they're the groundwork of all;Examine them well, and see that they're sound,Let no rotten part in our building be found:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm, and our citizens free.IIINow hand up thegirders, lay each in his place,Between them thejoists, must divide all the space;Like assemblymentheseshould lie level along,Likegirders, our senate prove loyal and strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm over citizens free.IVTheraftersnow frame; yourking-postsandbraces,And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places;Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine,And your pins be all made of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,A government firm over citizens free.VOurking-postsarejudges; how upright they stand,Supporting thebraces; the laws of the land:The laws of the land, which divide right from wrong,And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Laws equal and just, for a people that's free.VIUp! up! with therafters; each frame is astate:How nobly they rise! their span, too, how great!From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend,And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beCombined in strength, yet as citizens free.VIINow enter thepurlins, and drive your pins through;And see that your joints are drawn home and all true.Thepurlinswill bind all the rafters together:The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,United as states, but as citizens free.VIIICome, raise up theturret; our glory and pride;In the centre it stands, o'er the whole topreside:The sons of Columbia shall view with delightIts pillars, and arches, and towering height:Our roof is now rais'd, and our song still shall be,A federal head o'er a people that's free.IXHuzza! my brave boys, our work is complete;The world shall admire Columbia's fair seat;Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof,And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof:Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.Francis Hopkinson.
ICome muster, my lads, your mechanical tools,Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules;Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line,And plenty of pins of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.IICome, up withthe plates, lay them firm on the wall,Like the people at large, they're the groundwork of all;Examine them well, and see that they're sound,Let no rotten part in our building be found:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm, and our citizens free.IIINow hand up thegirders, lay each in his place,Between them thejoists, must divide all the space;Like assemblymentheseshould lie level along,Likegirders, our senate prove loyal and strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm over citizens free.IVTheraftersnow frame; yourking-postsandbraces,And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places;Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine,And your pins be all made of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,A government firm over citizens free.VOurking-postsarejudges; how upright they stand,Supporting thebraces; the laws of the land:The laws of the land, which divide right from wrong,And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Laws equal and just, for a people that's free.VIUp! up! with therafters; each frame is astate:How nobly they rise! their span, too, how great!From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend,And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beCombined in strength, yet as citizens free.VIINow enter thepurlins, and drive your pins through;And see that your joints are drawn home and all true.Thepurlinswill bind all the rafters together:The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,United as states, but as citizens free.VIIICome, raise up theturret; our glory and pride;In the centre it stands, o'er the whole topreside:The sons of Columbia shall view with delightIts pillars, and arches, and towering height:Our roof is now rais'd, and our song still shall be,A federal head o'er a people that's free.IXHuzza! my brave boys, our work is complete;The world shall admire Columbia's fair seat;Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof,And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof:Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.Francis Hopkinson.
ICome muster, my lads, your mechanical tools,Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules;Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line,And plenty of pins of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.
IICome, up withthe plates, lay them firm on the wall,Like the people at large, they're the groundwork of all;Examine them well, and see that they're sound,Let no rotten part in our building be found:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm, and our citizens free.
IIINow hand up thegirders, lay each in his place,Between them thejoists, must divide all the space;Like assemblymentheseshould lie level along,Likegirders, our senate prove loyal and strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beA government firm over citizens free.
IVTheraftersnow frame; yourking-postsandbraces,And drive your pins home, to keep all in their places;Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine,And your pins be all made of American pine:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,A government firm over citizens free.
VOurking-postsarejudges; how upright they stand,Supporting thebraces; the laws of the land:The laws of the land, which divide right from wrong,And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,Laws equal and just, for a people that's free.
VIUp! up! with therafters; each frame is astate:How nobly they rise! their span, too, how great!From the north to the south, o'er the whole they extend,And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall beCombined in strength, yet as citizens free.
VIINow enter thepurlins, and drive your pins through;And see that your joints are drawn home and all true.Thepurlinswill bind all the rafters together:The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather:For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,United as states, but as citizens free.
VIIICome, raise up theturret; our glory and pride;In the centre it stands, o'er the whole topreside:The sons of Columbia shall view with delightIts pillars, and arches, and towering height:Our roof is now rais'd, and our song still shall be,A federal head o'er a people that's free.
IXHuzza! my brave boys, our work is complete;The world shall admire Columbia's fair seat;Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof,And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof:Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be,Our government firm, and our citizens free.
Francis Hopkinson.
The new constitution had still to be submitted to the several states for ratification. One after another they fell into line, but Massachusetts held back. On January 9, 1788, the convention met, and week after week dragged by in fierce debate; but finally, on February 6, 1788, the Constitution was ratified by a majority of nineteen votes.
The new constitution had still to be submitted to the several states for ratification. One after another they fell into line, but Massachusetts held back. On January 9, 1788, the convention met, and week after week dragged by in fierce debate; but finally, on February 6, 1788, the Constitution was ratified by a majority of nineteen votes.
CONVENTION SONG
[February 6, 1788]