A TRIBUTE, &c, SONG

The great Reformation, approaching, we hail! 'Gainst statesmen and priests truth and reason prevail, Triumphant the planets of Liberty, see! Preparing the soil of the globe for the tree.

All shall yield to Freedom's fair tree. Bend to thee Blest Liberty! Heroes are they, now planting thee, And all their great names immortal shall be!

Away with the splendour and pomp of a court, Our toil shall no longer the baubles support, No longer the slaves of a statesman or king, Inspir'd by the muses of Freedom we sing. All shall yield, &c.

Ye Britons, for courage in battle renown'd, For freedom and riches—Alas, empty sound! Triumphant ye came from the field and the main, To be conquer'd and plunder'd by statesmen again. Then repair to, &c.

Ye trees of corruption in courts ye abound, The fruits ye produce are a curse to the ground, In the soil where ye flourish no others can grow, But now see the axe at your roots aims the blow. All shall yield, &c.

May Heav'n guard the people, and armies of France, And crush all their foes where-ever they advance; And end to the councils of traitors combin'd, The downfall of tyrants—and peace to mankind! All shall yield, &c.

How great in the ages to come and how dear, Your names, and your conquests great heroes will appear! With rapture they'll read and your actions review, While under the shade of the tree rais'd by you!

All shall yield to Freedom's fair tree, Bend to thee Blest Liberty! Heroes are they, now planting thee, And all their great names immortal shall be!