No more an angry, plundering race, May man in every clime embrace, And we on this remoter shore, Exult in bloody wars no more.
On this returning annual day May we to heaven our homage pay, Happy, that here the time's began That made mankind the friend of man!--
[121] From the edition of 1815. The title is manifestly wrong. The poem was first printed in a small pamphlet with the following title page:
"Means | for the | Preservation | of | Public Liberty. | An | Oration | delivered in the New Dutch Church, | on the | Fourth of July, 1797. | Being the twenty-first | Anniversary of our Independence. | By G. J. Warner. | [_Ten lines from Freneau_] | New York: | Printed at the Argus Office, | for | Thomas Greenleaf and Naphtali Judah. | 1797."
At the end of the pamphlet is the poem with the title: "Ode | (Composed for the Occasion, by P. Freneau.) | The Musick Performed | by the | Uranian Musical Society."
"Red war will soon be chang'd for peace, All human woe for human bliss, And nations that embrace again Enjoy a long pacific reign."
[123] This stanza was the chorus to be repeated after every eight lines.
[124] This stanza is not in the original version.
Say--shall we pause, and here conclude our page, Or waft it onward to the coming age?-- Just as You say, whose efforts shook his throne, And plucked the brightest gem from George's crown-- Who, armed in Freedom's cause with hearts of steel, Have through these stormy times toiled for the common weal; Nor quit that standard thousands have deserted, By foreign arts, or gold, or titles re-converted.
If You, propitious to the press and pen, Gave vigour to the cause that roused up men When slavery's sons approached with Britain's fleet, Still we demand your aid--for Britain hates you yet: Not with the sword and gun she now contends But wages silent war, and by corruption bends, Foe to the system that enlightens man, Here, thrones she would erect, and frustrate Freedom's plan.
Here, on this virgin earth, the soil unstained, Where yet no tyrant has his purpose gained, Keep bright that flame which every bosom fired When Hessian hirelings from these lands retired, When, worn and wasted, all that murdering crew And British squadrons from the Hudson flew; When, leagued with France, you darts of vengeance hurled, And bade defiance to the despot world.