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Title: A Camp Ballad
Author: Francis Hopkinson [
More Titles by Hopkinson]
MAKE room, oh! ye kingdoms in hist'ry renowned,
Whose arms have in battle with glory been crown'd.
Make room for America, another great nation;
Arises to claim in your council a station.
Her sons fought for freedom, and by their own brav'ry
Have rescued themselves from the shackles of slav'ry.
America's free, and tho' Britain abhor'd it,
Yet fame a new volume prepares to record it.
Fair freedom in Briton her throne had erected,
But her sons growing venal, and she direspected;
The goddess offended forsook the base nation,
And fix'd on our mountains a more honoured station.
With glory immortal she here sits enthron'd,
Nor fears the vain vengeance of Britain disown'd,
Whilst Washington guards her with heroes surrounded,
Her foes shall with shameful defeat be confounded.
To arms then, to arms, 'tis fair freedom invites us;
The trumpet shrill founding to battle excites us;
The banners of virtue unfurl'd, shall wave o'er us,
Our hero lead on, and the foe fly before us.
On Heav'n and Washington placing reliance,
We'll meet the bold Britton, and bid him defiance:
Our cause we'll support, for 'tis just and 'tis glorious
When men fight for freedom they must be vitorious.
[The end]
Francis Hopkinson's poem: A Camp Ballad
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