The hour draws nigh, the glass is almost run, When truth will shine, and ruffians be undone; When this base miscreant will forbear to sneer, And curse his taunts, and bitter insults, here. If to controul the cunning of a knave, Freedom respect, and scorn the name of SLAVE; If to protest against a tyrant's laws, And arm for vengeance in a righteous cause Be deemed REBELLION -- 'tis a harmless thing: This bug-bear name, like death, has lost its sting. AMERICANS! at freedom's fane adore! But trust to Britain and her flag, no more: The generous genius of their isle has fled, And left a mere impostor in his stead. If conquered, rebels (their Scotch records show) Receive no mercy from the parent foe. Nay, even the grave, that friendly haunt of peace, (Where nature gives the woes of man to cease) Vengeance will search -- and buried corpses there Be raised to feast the vultures of the air -- Be hanged on gibbets! -- such a war they wage -- S uch are the devils that swell our souls with rage! -- If Britain conquers, help us, heaven, to fly: Lend us your wings, ye ravens of the sky; -- If Britain conquers, we exist no more; These lands will redden with their children's gore, Who, turned to slaves, their fruitless toils will moan, Toils in these fields, that once they called their own! To arms! to arms! -- and let the murdering sword Decide, who best deserves the HANGMAN'S CORD: Nor think the hills of Canada too bleak When desperate Freedom is the prize you seek; For that, the call of honour bids you go O'er frozen lakes, and mountains wrapt in snow: No toils should daunt the nervous and the bold, They scorn all heat, or wave congealing cold. -- Haste! -- to your tents in iron fetters bring These SLAVES, that serve a tyrant, and a king, So just, so virtuous is your cause, I say, Hell must prevail, if Britain gains the day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NICHARCHUS UPON PHIDON HIS DOCTOR by EZRA POUND WHAT THE BULLET SANG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE IN THE ROOM by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) THE CROSS TRIUMPHANT by HARRY HOWE BOGERT BRAW LADS O' GALLA WATER by ROBERT BURNS THE CARPENTER LAD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE EARTH MOTHER by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON EPISTLE TO A FRIEND, IN ANSWER TO SOME LINES TO BE CHEERFUL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |