Recreations for Solitary Hours
A Patriotic Breathing
A Patriotic Breathing.
Let joy pervade our isle;
Britannia seems to smile;
For long her bosom heaved with pain,
And long her tears have flow'd in vain,
As still she scorn'd with proud disdain,
A despot's sordid knavery.
No wonder she's undone,
Since each unfilial son,
For corrupt interest did convoke,
Enrobed in hypocritic cloak,
On Freedom's neck to bind the yoke,
Of galling, wretched slavery.
Let honour rouse each soul.
'Bove tyranny's control;—
Let every heart his freedom shield,
And never to despondence yield,
But on new constitution's field,
Display true manlike bravery.
Hark! from th' oppressor's thralls.
On us Britannia calls
To shield her liberties and laves—
To give promotion to her cause—
To raze corruptions without pause—
And freedom free from slavery.
Remember days of old,
And ancestors so bold,
Who for their rights have fought and bled,
And ever scorn'd tyrannic dread,
And rather choosed the gory bed,
Than yield to abject slavery.
May Scotia ne er complain,
Or vex her soverign's reign,
page 45 Let freedom's banners be unfurl'd,
And waved o'er the surrounding world,
And from their seats have tyrants hurl'd,
To reap the fruits of knavery!