The Briton

FROM the face of the Sun, see the Mists disappear,
Resplendent his beams brighten Day;
The Highlands, the Trees, and the Hill-tops are clear,
'Tis the pride of the year, it is May.

The Hare starts away, Puss disturb'd from her seat
Flies frighted, and doubles the Wold.
How plaintive the Sheep their loud echoes repeat,
Because not yet free'd from the Fold.

'Tis Liberty's language, the voice of the soul,
Throughout Air, upon Earth, in the Sea,
From us unto where the most distant Worlds roll,
What Animal wou'd not be free?

Let us live while we're free; but when Liberty wares
Life is but imprisoning breath;
As slaves shall we sigh, or escape from our chains,
And follow our Freedom to death.

We dare, even dying, our birthrights defend,
Our last shall be Liberty's call;
Like Sampson, we'll nobly existency end,
And our Tyrants o'erwhelm with our fall.

Good inbjects will Government ever obey,
Into Air toss Malignity's tale;
But Honour forbid, Fraud shou'd e'er come in play,
And England be set up to sale.

While Will, without Law, scourges Gallia's coast,
Let us, in our honesty bold,
First drink the KING's health,—then a'd to the toast,
May Englishmen scorn to be sold.