A child of nature from his birth,
And cradled in the storm,
His country knew his sterling worth
In days of dread alarm.
The first to strike the spark of war,
The first to break the charm,
And like the son of Hamilcar,
The first to breast the storm.
When Britain poured her minions forth
In myriads o'er the flood,
True as the needle to the north,
Firm as a rock he stood.
His powerful eloquence was heard
Upon the council floor,
Nor sword, nor death, nor gibbet feared,
But dared the lion's roar.
Nor did he falter on the way
Until the work was done,—
The tyrant owned His powerful sway,
And trembled on his throne.
His eloquence possessed a charm
To change the heart of stone,
All opposition to disarm,
And force of reason own.
Ye patriots, where's that spirit now,
That braved the fire and flood?
In Preston's eye a spark doth glow,
And for his country's good.
