Chapter XXX

When the bright arms of Albion bore
Rude war, to thy affrighted shore;
When Britain’s cross, in warlike form,
Lower’d oe’r thee like a thunder storm;
Then, from their wild, uncouth domain
The hardy patriots sallied forth,
Display’d, on bloody battle plain,
Their generous ardor, loyal worth;
There nature in her bosom wild,
Had nurs’d her patriotic child,
Who gave my native soil a name,
Undying as creations frame.
His was the valor that imparts
Its influence to his followers’ hearts;
His was the skill his foes to foil
In every art, escape each toil,
Insure success by wise delay,
Or sudden snatch the prize away.