Verse > Anthologies > William McCarty, ed. > The American National Song Book
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William McCarty, comp.  The American National Song Book.  1842.
 
Ode to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania
 
From the Pennsylvania Gazette—September 30, 1756. Published by B. Franklin.

STILL shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul
With wasteful rage resistless fall
  On Britain’s slumbering race?
Still shall she wave her bloody hand
And threatening banners o’er this land,        5
  To Britain’s fell disgrace?
 
And not one generous chieftain rise
(Who dares the frown of war despise,
  And treacherous fear disclaim)
His country’s ruin to oppose,        10
To hurl destruction on her foes,
  And blast their rising fame?
 
In Britain’s cause, with valour fired,
Braddock, unhappy chief! expired,
  And claim’d a nation’s tear;        15
Nor could Oswego’s bulwarks stand
The fury of a savage band,
  Though Schuyler’s arm was there.
 
Still shall this motley, murderous crew
Their deep, destructive arts pursue,        20
  And general horror spread?
No—see Britannia’s genius rise!
Swift o’er the Atlantic foam she flies
  And lifts her laurell’d head!
 
Lo! streaming through the clear blue sky,        25
Great Loudon’s awful banners fly,
  In British pomp display’d!
Soon shall the gallant chief advance;
Before him shrink the sons of France,
  Confounded and dismay’d.        30
 
Then rise, illustrious Britons, rise!
Great Freedom calls, pursue her voice,
  And save your country’s shame!
Let every hand for Britain arm’d,
And every breast with virtue warm’d,        35
  Aspire at deathless fame!
 
But chief, let Pennsylvania wake,
And on her foes let terrors shake,
  Their gloomy troops defy;
For, lo! her smoking farms and plains,        40
Her captured youths, and murder’d swains,
  For vengeance louder cry.
 
Why should we seek inglorious rest,
Or sink, with thoughtless ease oppress’d,
  While war insults so near?        45
While ruthless, fierce, athirst for blood,
Bellona’s sons, a desperate brood!
  In furious bands appear!
 
Rouse, rouse at once, and boldly chase
From their deep haunts, the savage race,        50
  Till they confess you men.
Let other Armstrongs 1 grace the field:
Let other slaves before them yield,
  And tremble round Du Quesne.
 
And thou, our chief, and martial guide,        55
Of worth approved, of valour tried
  In many a hard campaign,
O Denny, warm’d with British fire,
Our inexperienced troops inspire,
  And conquest’s laurels gain!        60
 
Note 1. The worthy and gallant Colonel Armstrong, who, at the head of a number of the provincial troops, destroyed an Indian town, and its inhabitants, within twenty-five miles of Fort Du Quesne. [back]
 
 
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