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On Wabash, when the sun withdrew,
And chill November's tempest blew,
Dark rolld thy waves, Tippecanoe,

Amidst that lonely solitude.
Where all was silence, save the howl
Of wintry blast or boding owl,
Or savage yell, as they would prowl

In that unbroken wilderness.
But Wabash saw another sight;
A martial host, in armour bright,
Encamp'd upon the shore that night,

And lighted up her scenery!
A favour'd spot that chieftain chose,
For weary soldiers to repose,
But not to sleep, lest wily foes

Should creep upon them stealthily.
But ere the rays of morning light
Dispell’d the shades of ebon night,
The silent arrow sped the flight

Of death, to every sentinel.
Then rang the shores with savage yell:
Then echo'd every hill and dell,
And, furious as the fiends of hell,

Rush'd forth the savage enemy.
To arms they flew, and, quick array'd,
Each warrior drew his battle-blade,
While clamorous drum and trumpet bray'd,

To wake the dreadful revelry.

Come on, their chieftain cried, ye brave,
We fight for victory or a grave!
Wave, Freedom! thy proud banners wave!

And charge with all thy chivalry!

Then shook the earth with cannons' roar;
Then freemen roll'd in freemen's gore;
While hungry Havoc cried for more,

And waved his plume o'er massacre.

Brave Owens there and Daviess fell;
The war-whoop was their funeral knell,
They need no monument to tell

Their unexampled bravery.

'Tis morn! the dreadful strife is done!
Hail to the gallant Harrison !
Who often fought and ever won

The glorious wreath of victory.


Tune—“Bunch of Rushes." COLUMBIA's greatest glory Was her loved chief, fair Freedom's friend;

Whose fame, renown'd in story, Shall last till time itself shall end.

Ye muses, bring

Your harps, and sing
Sweet lays that in smooth numbers run,

In praise of our loved hero,
The great, the god-like Washington.

His fame, through future ages,
Columbia's free-born sons shall raise;

The theme each heart engages,
All tongues shall join to sing his praise.

With joy sound forth

His virtuous worth,
And tell the glorious acts he's done.

Of all mankind, the greatest
Was our beloved Washington.

And, O! thou great Creator,
Who form'd his youth, and watch'd his age,

Since thou, in course of nature,
Hast call'd him from his earthly stage,

Great Power above,

Enthroned in love,
Who was, before this world began,

Receive into thy bosom
Our virtuous hero—Washington.



Tune—“Our Freedom we've won, &c.” From scenes of affliction, Columbia, oppress'dOf credit expiring, and commerce distress'dOf nothing to do, and of nothing to payFrom such dismal scenes let us hasten away. Our freedom we've won, and the prize let's maintain:

Our hearts are all right

Unite, boys, unite,
And our empire in glory shall ever remain.

The muses no longer the cypress shall wear,
For we turn our glad eyes to a prospect more fair-
The soldier, return'd to his small, cultured farm,
Enjoys the reward of his conquering arm.

Our freedom we've won, &c.
Our trade and our commerce shall reach far and wide,
And riches and honour flow in with each tide:
Kamtschatka and China, with wonder, shall stare
That the Federal stripes should wave gracefully there.

Our freedom we've won, &c.
With gratitude let us acknowledge the worth
Of what the Convention has call'd into birth ;
And the continent wisely confirm what is done
By Franklin the sage, and by brave Washington.

Our freedom we've won, &c.
The wise Constitution let's truly revere,
It points out the course for our empire to steer:
For oceans of bliss do they hoist the broad sail,
And peace is the current, and plenty the gale.

Our freedom we've won, &c.
With gratitude fill'd, let the great commonweal
Pass round the full glass to republican zeal.
From ruin their judgment and wisdom well aim'd,
Our liberties, laws, and our credit reclaim'd.

Our freedom we've won, &c.
Here Plenty, and Order, and Freedom shall dwell,
And your Shayses* and Dayses* won't dare to rebel.
Independence and culture shall graciously smile,
And the husbandman reap the full fruit of his toil.

Our freedom we've won, &c.

* Alluding to Shay's rebellion in Massachusetts.

That these are the blessings, Columbia knows-
The blessings the Federal Convention bestows.
0! then let the people confirm what is done,
By Franklin the sage, and by brave Washington.

Our freedom we've won, and the prize will main-

By love we'll unite

Approve and unite
And huzza for the Convention again and again.

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“ For fools admire, but men of sense believe."

SINCE Constitution is the word

By men so often used,
And all its meaning made absurd,

By knaves and fools abused
Pray, gentle reader, mark my scheme

Imprimis, I must show
What Constitutions a'n't my theme,

Then, item, let you know.
'Tis not the Constitution, nice,

Which metaphysics teach,
Of minds composed of good and vice,

And strange effects of each-
'Tis not the body's wondrous mould,

Descried in every view:
Nor Constitution now callid old

I mean the one that's new.
A plan to govern thirteen states

Was erst imperfect found;


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