As dear as freedom to the patriot breast
More welcome than to weary travelers rest
Laurens returns to bless his native plain
And welcome Laurens swells the votive strain
{ indecipherable words } made to heaven in uplifted eye
To show their gratitude in tears of Joy
Oh could the modest muse who scorns to pay
To pomp or pride the adulating lay
But speak the feelings of each grateful heart
Or half the merit of the sage impart
One wreath she twines would with fresh laurels grow
And not be deem'd unworthy of his brow
O could she paint him in the lonely hour
Far from his friends and cast beneath the power
Of stern oppressions hard tyranick reign
Her gloomy prison and her Iron chain
There self collected see him nobly spurn
His Countries foes whom he beheld with scorn
And there the patriot with the heroe vied
His heroe son reveng'd his wrongs and dy'd —