Her gorgeous crescent, Learning came, and Peace. On every shore, upon the Caspian wave, And where the vast Atlantic heaves it's form, With huge tornados crown'd, and billowy foam, The sail of Commerce open'd; danc'd the bark Upon the freighted billow, and oft bore The fruits of Afric and of farthest Ind To Arctic climes. Astonish'd Europe saw, Amid her desart rocks and wilds of snow, The verdant palm-tree spread, the citron wave It's silver gems, the perfum'd orange drop It's golden balls, and every mountain teem With vegetable life: amaz'd she saw Another and a sweeter Flora smile;
She saw her with a fairer wreath adorn
Her roseate brow, and in a softer fold
Wave loose her robe of green. The native tore His clotted fur, and wrapp'd him in the lawn Of Persia's looms; his sordid cottage heav'd It's marble dome, it's pillars rear'd aloft,
And glow'd with ornament; the statue breath'd, 280 And seem'd to live beneath the sculptor's hand. Hark! on each gale celestial music floats; And from his iron sleep of ages starts
Young Science, and his new-expanding wings Plumes all afresh. The busy street close-throng'd Humm'd with unceasing toil; a grove of masts Rode on the level bay, and lov'd to stretch Their oary wings, and give to every clime Unusual sweets, and pleasure not it's own.
Oh for the pen of freedom, to pourtray Oppression's downfall! from the cloud-capt hill, Where late in dark and dismal pride it frown'd Upon the vale below, the castle falls
Dismantled; all it's battlements, it's towers, It's moated bastions, and it's chains of brass Loud thundering come; the starting dungeon op'd, And, all it's hideous womb disclosing wide, Shew'd where his solitary sojourn kept He, the renounced of the world, or else Forgotten from his birth. But now the time, The time of freedom's come, and at the sight The city rears it's pinnacles and spires, Bends the long arch, and bids the terrace rise Magnificent. The' embosom'd village starts, And musical along the echoing vale
The even-song-bell swells, where late alone From the high turret it's far pealing sound The sullen curfew swung. The trailing smoke Ascends, which when the traveller from the hill Slow journeying sees, he thinks him of his home, His pleasant home that he has left behind, His trees, his tufted orchards, and the gleam Of sunset slanting on the yellow woods. (It was a mournful thought, and yet it came Sweet as the smile of Evening, for it spake Of peace to those he left.) And now arise Scenes of domestic comfort, mutual bliss Without suspicion, friendship, and the ties Of sweet society.--Is ought so fair
In all the breathing prospects of the morn, The long-withdrawing vale of azure hue, The various blossom'd spring, and glittering gems That stud heaven's canopy; is ought so fair, Laden with music when the summer-gale Breathes on the rosy mead, to the glad ear Of weary pilgrim welcome, (when he turns His last sad look upon his native plain,
And scenes of childhood dear, each farewell sound, Once more—and still once more-slow lingering on Catching, till faint they die ;)-is ought so fair As sweet society?-And now had fled Grim Superstition, all her opiate drugs, Her idols gorg'd with blood, and rites obscene, To Thor and fabled Woden, gods abhorr'd, Borne to her murky cell: the human gore Then wrung she from her clotted locks, and yell'd All her accursed song. Oppression dropp'd His clanking fetters, and the scorpion whip Crumbled to dust. His poniard stretch'd aloft, Forth from his den and shaggy solitudes The Spirit of freedom rose; then bar'd his arm, And call'd upon the nations, and they heard The echo of his trump. At that dread sound, Bursting his sleep, in every breast awoke The proud Divinity: athwart his brow Stern Resolution sate; his eagle-wings He imp'd afresh:-and now erect again Man stands, his free-born dignity he claims, His birth-right of equality, the seal
By which he looked superior, and was crown'd Master and Judge and Lord of all below.
FLUSH'D with Hesperia's golden prey, When Gallia northward bent her way, Eager to stretch her desolating brand O'er the rich vales of happy Switzerland; From beneath the piny steep, Where he lay in slumber deep, Lull'd by the water's tuneful fall,
And the goatherd's madrigal,
Sudden Helvetia's guardian Genius sprang;
High on *Adula's rock he fix'd his stand,
And clash'd his shield, and wav'd his banner'd hand,
And thus his war-song sang.
Rise, my warriors!-see, advance
"The legions of perfidious France !
* Mount St. Gothard.
"Onward she bids the gathering tempest roll, "Peace on her brow, but rancour in her soul. "She envies us our upland gales,
"The treasures of our peaceful vales, "The beechen grove, the sloping hill, "Fresh with many a vernal rill,
"With many a simple spire and cottage grac'd; "Fain would she scatter from her venom'd breath "Over this pleasant land the seeds of death, "And for our blooming Eden leave a hideous waste.
"And shall she?-no, my warriors, no! "Though the proud insulting foe
"Full wide her conquering banners have unfurl'd "O'er half the nations of the prostrate world ;— "Hath she yet storm'd the mountain-rock, "And stemm'd the mountain-torrent's shock, "And scal'd the beetling precipice, "Barrier'd with eternal ice?
"Warriors, hath the yet essay'd
"The fury of the freeman's blade,
"Of souls resolv'd to conquer or to die?"Then, Switzers, rise! each his stout breast-plate.
"And each unsheath his blood-incrusted sword, "And rear his nervous arm, and strike for liberty."
He spake obedient to the sound Helvetia's warriors throng'd around. Rous'd by the cry of long-forgotten war, From the swift Limmat, and majestic Ar, From where to the morning shine The torrents of the infant Rhine ;
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