Palladium Of Virginia And The Pacific Monitor

THOUGHTS ON THE CELEBRATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

[WRITTEN ON THE 4TH JULY 1824.]

Again the natal day of Freedom shines;
Again the hearts of thousands, grateful rise
From bow'd altars and from martial lines,
In sweetest, lowliest paeans to the skies!
Hark! the long peal! the thund'ring cannon's roar!
The feu de joie in long continued roll!
While doubling drums, and martial music, pour
From thousand instruments to glad the soul
Rejoice Columbians! Freedom gilds your land
With radiant, bright, yet mild and gentle beam;
Your Independence—gift of God's own hand.
Should ever be your nation's proudest theme,
Oft let your memory lead you to that hour
When tyrant nations o'er us held the rod.
When Slav'ry seem'd in threat'ning form to low'r,
And nought sustain'd us but our trust in God!
Then—oh! 'twas then, that He maintain'd our cause,
Gave wisdom to the men, whose sacred trust
Was to protect us from Oppression's laws,
And plan the means to raise us from the dust.
To him, "the Supreme Judge," they made appeal!
Nor did they make their bold appeal in vain,
He gave their hearts the firmness of the steel,
And guid'd with his hand the nation's pen!
How long, how ardent, was the glorious strife
That won secur'd the rights that pen declar'd!
His arms sustain'd and sav'd our nation's life:
His mighty arm in our behalf was bar'd:
Now—five and forty years have wheel'd their round,
And Peace sits smiling o'er our happy land,
No foe to dread, or trouble us is found.
And Plenty crowns the labor of our hand!
What then, Columbians, is the debt we owe.
To him, by whom these noble gifts are given?
Is cold neglect our Benefactor's due
Shall thanks be paid to each kind friend—but HEAVEN?
O dare not on this glad rejoicing day,
Condemn His goodness and Blaspheme His name!
O let not madd'ning Riot bear the sway.
Poisoning the heart—and e'en the moral frame!
O for a spark of that ethereal fire
Which glow'd in raptur'd David's thankful song
Like him how boldly would I strike the lyre,
And swell the anthem high, and loud and long
Praises should dwell in every tuneful strain
Praises to Him who led our armies on!
He that bears rule in Heaven is our King!
Truth, Justice, Mercy, still surround His throne!
And while in songs of praise I tun'd my lyre,
My heart should raise a supplicating note,
That future generations might aspire
To taste that freedom which our fathers bought,
Columbians! do you prize your Liberty?
And wish your happiness may still increase,
And hope you, that your children shall be free,
then remember—PIETY is Peace!

PHILO PARILE.