| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
THE TIMES. Ill
|
||
|
Forbid it, ye gods, who preside o'er the land! Forbid it, ye genii, who rule with the wand! Forbid it, ye heroes, whoever draws breath ! Nor dread, in the combat, to rush upon death.
May our King be as wise as we mortals expect; Each rascal from council then boldly eject; May his life be as good, and his reign be as great, As ever was Solomon's wonderful state.
Then curs'd be the foes of our birthright so dear, May they never find comfort or happiness here ! But vagabond-like, o'er the earth may they stray, Unshelter'd by night, and unfed through the day.
Let singular blessings America crown;
May the Congress be blest with immortal renown;
Each colony live in true sisterly peace,
Whilst harmony, honor, and riches increase.
Oh ! let freedom and friendship for ever remain, Nor that rascal draw breath, who would forge us a chain.
1 The Times. In a version of this song, published in 1777, the following couplet is added:
"The times, it seems, are altered quite, The scales are cracked, the sword is broke, Eight is now wrong, and wrong is right. -And justice is a standing joke."' |
||