1797
All human things must have their rise,
And Rome advanced from little size
Till future ages saw her grown
The mistress of the world, then known.
So, bounding on Potowmac's flood,
Where ancient oaks so lately stood
An infant city grows apace
Intended for a ruling race.
Here capitols of awful height—
Already burst upon the sight,
And buildings, meant for embryo kings
Display their fronts and spread their wings.
This city bodes no common fate—
All other towns, as books relate,
With huts at first were thinly spread,
With hovels mean, or humble shed.
But matters here are quite reversed,
Here, palaces are built the first,
And late will common rustics come
In such abodes to find a home.
Meantime, it will be fair and just
(Nor will our congress fret, we trust)
If while the poor at distance lurk—
Themselves do their own dirty work.
Rome's earliest citizens were thieves,
So history tells, and man believes,
May matters be again reversed,
May they who here inhabit first
Instruct the late historians pen
To write—that they were honest men.