TO THE AMERICANS OF THE UNITED STATES

Men of this passing age!— whose noble deeds Honour will bear above the scum of Time: Ere this eventful century expire, Once more we greet you with our humble rhyme: Pleased, if we meet your smiles, but — if denied, Yet, with Your sentence, we are satisfied.

Catching our subjects from the varying scene Of human things; a mingled work we draw, Chequered with fancies odd, and figures strange, Such, as no courtly poet ever saw; Who writ, beneath some Great Man's ceiling placed; Travelled no lands, nor roved the watery waste.

To seize some features from the faithless past; Be this our care — before the century close: The colours strong!— for, if we deem aright, The coming age will be an age of prose: When sordid cares will break the muses’ dream, And Common Sense be ranked in seat supreme.

Go, now, dear book; once more expand your wings: Still in the cause of Man severely true: Untaught to flatter pride, or fawn on kings;— Trojan, or Tyrian, — give them both their due.— When they are right, the cause of both we plead, And both will please us well,— if both will read.