On the Fourth of July

On the basis of fame Columbia stands, Her pendants refulgent in foreign lands; Ages remote her exploits will extol, And waft the glad tidings from pole to pole. The records of Greece, and the annals of Rome, Are hush'd in silence, and mute as the tomb. Since nature's grand fiat spoke realms to be, And chaos gave way to land and to sea; A more lucid aera time ne'er enroll'd, Nor nations such laurels did e'er behold. From the verge of space to the centre of spheres, Columbia's thunders shall-wake distant fears; And th'oak, which now nods in forests unknown, Shall visit all climes, and count them its own. Where Sol baths his steeds in the western main, And from Indus's waves emerges again; The Stripes triumphant shall ride o'er the sea, And the trumpet of fame echo us—free. May those who preside o'er councils and states, With olives expanded, end our debates; And Ceres her gifts profusely bestow, 'Till the exit of time, and all things below.