Autumnal burnings, which have rush'd, With wasting fire fie

S day, of happiness unmix'd! When this fair City, without blood-shed
won, Receives to her sweet bosom, once again, Her free-born sons, of
perseverance try'd, And noble fortitude, in deeds of arms. Now let the
father meet his infant son, His virgin daughter, and long faithful
spouse, And
kiss away all tears, but those of joy. Now,
let the
ardent lover clasp his fair, New flush the red rose in her damask cheek,
Light up the glad beam in her rolling eye, And

bid all pain and sorrowing be gone. Oh,

happy day--Shine on thou blissful sun, And not one vapour blemish thy
career, Till from thy mid-day
champaign, wheeling do Thou in the western ocean go to rest. O happy
town--Now let thy buildings smile, Thy streets run down, with silver
floods of joy, And from thy temples, loudly, hymn and song Sweep the
high arches of resounding Heaven. Yes, fellow
soldiers, let us bend to him Who gave us strength, and confidence of

soul, To meet the Battle and fierce iron war, Urg'd on severe by the
tyrannic foe, With deadly thunder, and mischievous
arms. To him who with his tempest, bulg'd the deep, And their full
hundred war-ships, on the bay, Chain'd,
with his strong
wind, to the North-east shore. The hand of Heaven, is visible in this,
And we, O God, pour forth our souls in praise. O fellow soldiers, let
our off'rings rise, Not in rich hecatombs, of bulls and goats,
But in true piety, and light of love, And warm devotion, in the inward
part. Let your festivity be mix'd with thought, And sober judgment, on
this grand event. March on, and take true pleasure to your arms, You

all are bridegrooms, to fair joy to-day.

A MILITARY SONG by the ARMY: _On GENERAL WASHINGTON'S victorious entry
into the Town of Boston._ I. Sons of valour, taste the glories, Of
Celestial LIBERTY, Sing a Triumph o'er the Tories Let the pulse of joy
beat high.
II. Heaven this day hath foil'd the many Fallacies
of GEORGE their King, Let the echo reach Britan'y, Bid her mountain
summits ring. III. See yon Navy swell the
bosom, Of the late enraged sea, Where e'er they go we shall oppose them,
Sons of valour must be free. IV. Should they touch at fair RHODE-ISLAND,
There

to combat with the brave, Driven, from each hill, and high-land, They
shall plough the purple wave. V. Should they thence, to
fair VIRGIN'Y Bend a squadron to DUNMORE, Still with fear and ignominy,
They

shall quit the hostile shor