Thus to the verge of battle brought
Reflection leads a happy thought,
Agrees, half way, the Gaul to meet,
Prepared to fight him or to treat.
Fatigued with long oppression's reign,
Tis time to break oppression's chain;
One gem we ravish'd from one crest
And time, perhaps, will take the rest.
The revolutions of this age
( To swell the late historian's page )
Are but old prospects drawing near,
The outset of a new career.
What Plato saw, in ages fled,
What Solon to the Athenians said,
What fired the British Sydney's page,
The Solon of a modern age,
Is now unfolding to our view;
A system liberal, great, and new,
Which from a long experience springs
And bodes a better course of things.
And will these States, whose beam ascends,
On whose resolve so much depends;
Will these, whose Washington, or Greene,
Gave motion to the vast machine;
Will these be torpid, careless found
To help the mighty wheel go round;
These, who began the immortal strife,
And liberty preferr'd to life.
If not the cause of France we aid
Yet never should the word be said
That we, to royal patrons prone,
Made not the cause of man our own.
Could Britain here renew her sway,
And we a servile homage pay,
The coming age, too proud to yield,
Would drive her myriads from the field.
Time will mature the mighty scheme,
We build on no platonic dream;
The light of truth shall shine again,
And save the democratic reign.