Classic Poem

Hark! 't is Freedom that calls, come, patriots, awake!
To arms, my brave boys, and away:
'T is Honor, 't is Virtue, 't is Liberty calls,
And upbraids the too tedious delay.
What pleasure we find in pursuing our foes,
Thro' blood and thro' carnage we 'll fly;
Then follow, we'll soon overtake them, huzza!
The tyrants are seized on, they die!

Triumphant returning with Freedom secur'd,
Like men, we'll be joyful and gay —
With our wives and our friends, we'll sport, love, and drink,
And lose the fatigues of the day.
'T is freedom alone gives a relish to mirth,
But oppression all happiness sours;
It will smooth life's dull passage, 't will slope the descent,
And strew the way over with flowers.