Charles Mead

WHEN our seafaring subjects, abused and impress’d,

By Britain whose ships held a merciless reign,

The Genius of Liberty rose from the west,

And sent forth her murmurs o’er Neptune’s domain.

The ocean’s old ruler, with absolute sway,

Ascended with pride in his wave-beaten car,

From his throne in the deep to the regions of day,

And said that our only redress was in war.

Columbia then thought of entreaties no more,

But called on her children to fight and be free;

Her language of vengeance the hurricanes bore,

And battles commenced on the land and the sea.

Through heaven’s clear azure the lightnings were hurl’d,

And thunders resounded o’er ocean’s wild waves;

Till the echoes were lost in the noise of the world,

And thousands sunk down in their crystalline graves.

As Neptune beheld the young Hercules rise,

Thus breathing destruction with desperate ire,

On his trident our banners he bore through the skies,

The Britons were rent by the tempests of fire.

In peace we now sing to the praises of those

Who honours received from the god of the sea;

Who valiantly humbled the pride of their foes,

With thunders proclaiming “they’d die or be free.”

That commerce and freedom may travel the deep,

That our means of resistance may ever increase,

In a firm and defensive position we’ll keep;

Our prowess for war be our guardian of peace.