Vigilantia Libertatis

The scent of pine, a murmured plea

‘Neath Albion’s crown, no longer free.

A breast divided, torn with care,

Whilst pietas slumbers unaware.

The royal writ, a gilded chain

Did press upon the soul with pain.

To kneel—to yield—to silence keep,

Or cast the die and dare the deep.

Lo, fidelitas to throne and land

Weighs heavy on the trembling hand.

Our fathers’ graves, our sovereign’s name

Shall these and honor burn in flame?

Yet o’er such doubt, the spirit soared

By sacred oath, the sword was sworn.

For liberty—a fragile breath

Doth oft demand a noble death.

What of the oath my father gave,

To crown and isle—remote, yet grave?

His blood in me, his name I wear—

Shall I forsake his ancient care?

Yet something stirs beneath the dust—

A breath that cries, “pro libertate, just!”

Torn ‘twixt the land that bore my tongue,

And fire that bids the soul be young,

My heart, in irons drawn from birth,

Now breaks to claim a freer worth.

Let England mourn, if mourn she must

I trade her favor for the just.

The plow was left, the field lay still,

As farmer rose with sharpened will.

Each musket shone, a silent vow:

To break the yoke, to seize the now.

In bitter dusk, a beacon flared

A tricolor through tempest dared.

From Gallia’s shore, with heart aflame,

Great Lafayette and brothers came.

O gratia Dei! their succor lent

The strength to forge our firmament.

For without France, her guns, her grace—

Our cause were but a fleeting trace.

Their ships drew near as hope drew breath,

To turn the tide, to stave off death.

Amicitia in steel was shown,

A foreign flame to match our own.

The meadow drank the martyr’s blood,

Where freedom’s root in crimson stood.

Ten thousand tears, a century’s fears,

Etched in the stone of hallowed years.

Shall we, who walk this sacred ground,

Forget the cries, the cannon’s sound?

To barter peace for gilded chain—

To suffer tyranny, and serve again?

Absit omen! Let memory flame,

Lest we betray the patriot’s name.

For libertas, once dearly earned,

By silence is but soon unlearned.

So raise the torch, let watchfires gleam,

Through troubled years and faded dream.

Semper vigil, tried and true—

Guard well the gift our fathers knew.