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And filence watch, on woodland heights around,
The village curfew, as it tolls profound.

In Lybian groves, where damned rites are done,
That bathe the rocks in blood, and veil the fun,
Truth fhall arreft the murd'rous arm profane,
Wild Obi flies the veil is rent in twain.

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Where barb'rous hordes on Scythian mountains roam,

Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet fhall find a home;

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Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,

From Guinea's coaft to Sibir's dreary mines,

Truth fhall pervade th' unfathom'd darkness there,
And light the dreadful features of despair.—
Hark! the ftern captive fpurns his heavy load,
And asks the image back that Heaven bestow'd!

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Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns,

And, as the flave departs, the man returns!

Oh! facred Truth! thy triumph ceas'd a while,

And Hope, thy fifter, ceas'd with thee to smile,

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When leagu'd Oppreffion pour'd to Northern wars

Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce huffars,

Wav'd her dread ftandard to the breeze of morn,

Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;

Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Prefaging wrath to Poland-and to man! 9

Warfaw's laft champion, from her height furvey'd,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,—
Oh! Heav'n! he cried, my bleeding country fave!

Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?—

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Yet, though deftruction fweep thefe lovely plains,
Rife, fellow-men! our country yet remains!

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,

And fwear for her to live!—with her to die!

He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd

His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd ;
Firm-pac'd and flow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the ftorm;
Low, murm'ring founds along their banners fly,
Revenge, or death,-the watchword and reply;
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocfin toll'd their laft alarm!-

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!

From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :

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Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,

Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;

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Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,

Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear, Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career ;- 380

Hope, for a feafon, bade the world farewell,

And Freedom fhriek'd-as KOSCIUSKO fell!

The fun went down, nor ceas'd the carnage there,

Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dy'd waters murm'ring far below ;
The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay !—

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Hark! as the fmouldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!

Earth fhook-red meteors flash'd along the sky,

And confcious Nature shudder'd at the cry!

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Oh! Righteous Heav'n! ere Freedom found a grave, Why flept the fword, omnipotent to fave?

Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod, 395

That fmote the foes of Zion and of God,

That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car

Was yok'd in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?

Where was the ftorm that flumber'd till the hoft

Of blood-ftain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coaft, 400

Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,

And heav'd an ocean on their march below?

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