For here, ye fair, no servile rites bear sway, Nor force ye—(though ye promise)—to obey: Blest in the mildness of tins temp'rate zone, Slaves to no w… - David Humphreys (soldier)

Some days elaps'd, I jogg'd quite brave on
And found my Trumbull at New-Haven;
Than whom, more humour never man did
Possess—nor lives a soul more candid—
But who, unsung, would know hereafter,
The repartees, and peals of laughter,
Or how much glee those laughters yield one,
Maugre the system Chesterfieldian!
Barlow I saw, and here began
My friendship for that spotless man;
Whom, though the world does not yet know it,
Great nature form'd her loftiest poet.
But Dwight was absent at North-Hampton,
That bard sublime, and virtue's champion.
To whom the charms of verse belong,
The father, of our epic song!

His list'ning sons the sire shall oft remind,
What parent sages first in Congress join'd;
The faithful Hancock grac'd that early scene,
Great Washington appear'd in godlike mien,
Jay, Laurens, Clinton, skill'd in ruling men,
And he, who earlier, held the farmer's pen.
'Twas Lee, illustrious, at the father's head,
The daring way to independence led.
The self-taught Sherman urg'd his reasons clear,
And all the Livingstons to freedom dear;
What countless names in fair procession throng,
With Ruttledge, Johnson, Nash, demand the song!

Yes thank your stars, Columbia's happy dames!
Ye need not fear those frightful fun'ral flames:
Of other lands let foreign bards be dreaming,
But this, this only is the land for women;—
Here ye invert the Bramins' barb'rous plan,
And stretch your sceptre o'er the tyrant—man.