THE PROGRESS OF LIBERTY
Tune—“Britannia rules the Waves.”
HARK! Hark! on yonder distant shore, The noisy din of war I hear; The sword's unsheath'd—the cannons roar, And Gallia's sons in arms appear, 'Tis France, 'tis France, the people cry, Fighting for sacred Liberty.
Though num'rous armies her invade; Of warlike slaves a barb'rous host; Of Despots crown'd, a grand crusade, To crush her Liberty they boast. 283 But France like Britain will be free Or bravely die for Liberty
No more the grinding hand of Power, The op'ning bud of Reason blights; On eagle's wings fair Truth shall tower, For Man begins to know his Rights, The iron yoke we crumbling see, Beneath the Cap of Liberty.
Go on, great souls, no dangers fear, Your glorious Standard high erect; The Freemen will to it repair, And Providence your cause protect. Go, plant on distant shores the Tree, Sacred to god-like Liberty.
No dreams of conquest you inspire, Great Nature's Cause depends on thee; Europe will catch the sacred fire, And bid adieu to Slavery. Then raise your warlike banners high, And rally under Liberty.
No longer war, of Kings the spoil, Usurping nations shall divide; Nor stain with blood each fruitful soil, By Nature form'd to be allied, But Britons hope the world to see Unite in Peace and Liberty