Which soon will swallow freedom down;
Vice brooks no rival near its throne,
But proudly wields its scepter dread,
And rules supreme, a copperhead!
What use is freedom’s written scroll,
Unless ’tis graven on the soul?
Why vainly celebrate its birth,
If it has fled to Heaven from earth,
To aggravate our pain and cross,
By pointing out its grievous loss?