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The Occasional Ode, or the Marseilles hymn
Sung at the Washington Parade Ground in commemoration of the French Revolution By S. Woodworth ; piano forte arrangement by P.K. Moran.

New York Firth & Hall

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Ye sons of freedom wake to glory
Hark what myriads bid you rise
Your children, wives and grandsires hoary
Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding
With hireling host a ruffian band
Afright and desolate the land
While peace and liberty lie bleeding
To arms to arms ye brave
Th'a venging sword unsheath
March on march on all hearts resolv'd on victory or death
March on march on all hearts resolv'd on victory or death

O'er regal domes renown'd in story
The trinal banner proudly waves
And France resumes the march of glory
Her gallant sons no longer slaves
Her gallant sons no longer slaves
With tyrants vainly had they pleaded
But when the press in thunder spoke
It burst their chains with lightning stroke
And peace and liberty succeeded
Then swell the choral strain
To [ ] the blest decree
Rejoice! Rejoice! The press shall reign
And all the world be free!

All hail renown'd chivalric nation!
Land of the olive and the vine
Inspired with kindred emulation
Our bosoms glow with joy like thine.
Columbia's grateful sons can never
Forget that in her darkest hour
She owed to Gallic arms the power
To disenthrall her PRESS for ever.
Then swell,&c.

The day which saw the sceptre shivered
And hailed Columbia truly free
From every hireling foe delivered
For tyrants tremble now before thee
And a free PRESS, the beacon light
That burst upon oppressions night
Has spread eternal glory o'er thee
Then swell,&c.

Immortal LA FAYETTE we hail thee
The friend of equal rights on earth
Though servile tools of kings assail thee
Columbia owns and and knows thy worth
Thou first of heroes best ol sages
The glorious chaplet thou hast won
Disciple of our WASHINGTON
Shall bloom like his for endless ages
Then swell,&c.

Oh! Liberty can man resign thee
Once having felt thy gen'rous flame
Can Tyrans bolts and bars confine thee
Or whip thy noble spirit tame
Or whip thy noble spirit tame
Too long our country wept be wailing
The blood stain'd sword our conquerors wield
But freedom is our [ ] shield



The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.