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In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes, In every tongue thy kindred accents rise; The thought expanding swells my heart with glee, It finds a frie… - Joel Barlow
" "In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes, In every tongue thy kindred accents rise; The thought expanding swells my heart with glee, It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee. Say then, fraternal family divine, Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine, Say from what source the dire delusion rose, That souls like ours were ever made for foes; Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread, To rear our mansions and receive our bread, Should blush so often for the face she bore, So long be drench'd with floods of filial gore; Why to small realms for ever rest confin'd Our great affections, meant for all mankind. Though climes divide us; shall the stream or sea, That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me, Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar, And meet his falchion in the ranks of war? Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire In nations' minds could e'er the wish inspire; Where equal rights each sober voice should guide, No blood would stain them, and no war divide. 'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state, Man sunk in titles, lost in Small and Great; 'Tis Rank, Distinction, all the hell that springs From those prolific monsters, Courts and Kings.
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About Joel Barlow
Joel Barlow (24 March 1754 – 26 December 1812) was an American poet and diplomat.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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Additional quotes by Joel Barlow
See the long pomp in gorgeous glare display'd, The tinsel'd guards, the squadron'd horse parade; See heralds gay, with emblems on their vest, In tissu'd robes, tall, beauteous pages drest; Amid superior ranks of splendid slaves, Lords, Dukes and Princes, titulary knaves, Confus'dly shine their crosses, gems and stars, Sceptres and globes and crowns and spoils of wars.
Once draw the sword; its burning point shall bring To thy quick nerves a never-ending sting; The blood they shed thy weight of wo shall swell, And their grim ghosts for ever with thee dwell. Learn hence, ye tyrants, ere ye learn too late, Of all your craft th' inevitable fate. The hour is come, the world's unclosing eyes Discern with rapture where its wisdom lies; From western heav'ns th' inverted Orient springs, The morn of man, the dreadful night of kings. Dim, like the day-struck owl, ye grope in light, No arm for combat, no resource in sight; If on your guards your lingering hopes repose, Your guards are men, and men you've made your foes; If to your rocky ramparts ye repair, De Launay's fate can tell your fortune there. No turn, no shift, no courtly arts avail, Each mask is broken, all illusions fail; Driv'n to your last retreat of shame and fear, One counsel waits you, one relief is near : By worth internal, rise to self-wrought fame, Your equal rank, your human kindred claim; 'Tis Reason's choice, 'tis Wisdom's final plan, To drop the monarch and assume the man.
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Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.
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