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.