In thoughtless hour some much misguided men, And more, who held a prostituted pen, From monstrous creeds a monstrous system drew, That every State into one kettle threw,
And boil'd them up until the goodly mass Might for a kingdom, or a something, pass. In the gay circle of saint James's placed, From thence, no doubt, this modest plan they traced,
Suit with the splendor that surrounds a king, Too many sigh'd, and wish'd to be that thing. Thence came a book ( where came it but from thence? ) Made up of all things but a grain of sense.
Lawyers and counsellors echo'd back the note And lying journals praised the trash they wrote. Though British armies could not long prevail, Yet British politics may turn the scale:
In ten short years, of freedom weary grown, The state, republic, sickens for a throne; Senates and sycophants a pattern bring A mere disguise for parliament and king.
A pensioned army! Whence a plan so base?— A despot's safety, liberty's disgrace. What saved these states from Britain's wasting hand, Who but the generous rustics of the land,
A free-born race, inured to every toil, Who clear the forest and subdue the soil? They tyrants banish'd from this injured shore, And home-bred traitors may expel once more.
Ye, who have propp'd the venerated cause, Who freedom honor'd, and sustain'd her laws! When thirteen states are moulded into one, Your rights are vanish'd and your glory gone;
The form of freedom will alone remain — Rome had her senate when she hugg'd her chain. Sent to revise our system,— not to change, What madness that whole system to derange,
Amendments, only, was the plan in view, You scorn amendments, and destroy it too. How much deceived! would heroes of renown Scheme for themselves, and pull the fabric down,
Bid in its place Columbia's column rise Inscribed with these sad words,— Here freedom lies!
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