What! shall the wharf and warehouse block our view Of truth and right? Shall we no help afford, When petty states in their affliction sue, Because our busy merchants flinch the sword? What! when redemption of our word is due, Shall we make pretexts? - shall no war be waged? The meekest saint would hold us disengaged From thoughts of peace, to serve a cause so true: When Nelson scour'd the ocean's vast expanse In passionate haste, and, hugging every wind, Rush'd to the East, his dodging foe to find, And drove among the anchor'd ships of France The yeast of his fierce voyage, the great strife Was forced upon us, - yea, we fought for life! |