Once more emerging from this baleful reign
Of Stuart Kings, and from the Pontiff's chain,
By Boyne's swift current Freedom rear'd her head,
When from those banks the Papal Tyrant fled;
Then every vale with lo Paeans rung
As the glad reaper at his harvest sung,
Thee, great Nassau, benevolently brave,
Equally born to conquer, and to save,
When Glory's sounding trump to Gallia's shore,
Th' exulting shouts of British Freedom bore,
Dismay'd she saw the kindling ardor burn,
And Seine hung trembling o'er her wasted urn.