William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Columbias ChampionsW
Demand the candid, blameless rhyme,
I glow with fond desire:
I feel the wish, I own the will,
But want, alas! the boasted skill
To raise poetic fire.
For Philip’s son the lyre was strung,
In ancient vaunted days;
Some Marlborough and Turenne declare
The greater sons of later war,
And lavish forth their praise.
An age so wondrous as our own,
Your songs might pardon’d be!
Columbia’s world you never knew,
Your golden age would here be true,
Because our empire’s free.
Who dared oppression’s rage assail,
To burst the galling chain:
Resolved with Liberty to fall,
Or, if she rose, to bless us all,
And cheer the labouring swain.
But half thy genuine worth rehearse,
It would even time despise:
Then Homer’s epic song would fail,
And mine and freedom still prevail,
Immortal to the skies.
Fair Virtue brightens at his name,
She spread for him her shield!
’Twas Heaven, in kindness to us, bore
The warrior from his native shore,
To lead the embattled field.
What most delights a worthy mind,
Is gratitude sincere:
This, great La Fayette, you shall have,
The patriot cool and hero brave
Thy merits still revere.
Whose noble deeds illume the sphere!
But who can name them all?
Their efforts join’d, they raised a dome
That rivals once imperial Rome,
And but with time can fall.