A New Song. Columbia

When our Fathers came o'e, To this wilderness shore, They all hazards and dangers despised; For by tyrants oppress'd, They came hither in quest, Of Freedom, by the brave ever priz'd.

'Twas with labor and toil, They improved the soil, For the wilderness bloom'd like the rose; And with plenty being crown'd, To the nations around, Terms of friendship and peace did propose.

But, lo! each savage tribe, With perfidy ally'd! Were strangers to peace, friendship, and truth; For 'tis Scalps that they prize, They are deaf to the cries, Of the insant, the aged, or youth.

At length they were quell'd, And by valor compell'd, With submission to sue for a peace; Thus our fathers renown'd, Were with victory crown'd, And their offspring began to encrease.

So with Liberty bless'd, They departed to rest, And the fruits of their toil left their sons; Whose firm hearts, like their fires, Love of Freedom inspires, And the shackles of Slavery shun.

For, behold British pride, With oppression ally'd, Soon disturb'd this our envied state: First, with Stamps they oppress'd, Which, though quickly redress'd, They still cherish foul envy and hate.

But the tale is too long, It would burthen my song, To relate how they threaten'd us all i That unless we'd submit, To the terms they thought fit, Without mercy they on us would fall.

That such threats were in vain, Is well known to each swain, Who rambles thro' the lawn or the grove; For, proud Britons, dismay'd, Quickly beat the shamade, And surrender'd to HIM, whom all love.

No more let Britain boast, Of her powerful host, Nor her sov'reignty over the main; For we've taught them to know, That, though num'rous our foe, We can Conquer again and again.

Now to HIM that rules all, Who inhabits this ball, Our warm gratitude sure will arise; And, in thanks we'll repeat, The deliv'rance so great, And the Blessings of Liberty prize.