ON THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY

Bright Day,that did to France restore

What priests and kings had seiz'd away,

That bade her generous sons disdain

The fetters that their fathers wore,

The titled slave, a tyrant's sway,

That ne'er shall curse her soil again!

Bright day! a partner in thy joy,

Columbia hails the rising sun,

She feels her toils, her blood repaid,

When fiercely frantic to destroy,

( Proud of the laurels he had won )

The Briton, here, unsheath'd his blade.

By traitors driven to ruin's brink

Fair Freedom dreads united knaves,

The world must fall if she must bleed;—

And yet, by heaven! I'm proud to think

The world was ne'er subdued by slaves —

Nor shall the hireling herd succeed.

Boy! fill the generous goblet high;

Success to France, shall be the toast:

The fall of kings the fates foredoom,

The crown decays, its’ splendours die;

And they, who were a nation's boast,

Sink, and expire in endless gloom.

Thou, stranger, from a distant shore,

Where fetter'd men their rights avow,

Why on this joyous day so sad?

Louis insults with chains no more,—

Then why thus wear a clouded brow,

When every manly heart is glad?

Some passing days and rolling years

May see the wrath of kings display'd,

Their wars to prop the tarnish'd crown;

But orphans’ groans, and widows’ tears,

And justice lifts her shining blade

To bring the tottering bauble down.