The Cambridge Intelligencer (February 15, 1794)
FREEDOM farewell! from Albion's hapless Isle,
For ever fled!—Now war with all its train
Of ceaseless horrors prowls the distant plain,
And Hope no longer cheers us with her smile.
On the wild heath in midnights thickening gloom,
Dim through the mist I've seen thy faded form,
Sport of the winds and every ruthless storm,
With downcast looks embrace thy destin'd tomb.
I saw thy passing shade to virtue dear,
As swift to distant realms, it wing'd its flight,
And slowly breaking through the clouds of night,
Gleam'd the pale moon upon thy blunted spear.
Oh! could I fly, on wings of lightening fly,
To dwell with thee in happier climes sweet Liberty!