And silence 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 sun, Truth shall arrest the murd'rous arm profane, Wild Obi flies —the veil is rent in twain.

Where barb'rous hordes on Scythian mountains

roam,

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

Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,

From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines", Truth shall pervade the unfathom'd darkness there, And light the dreadful features of despair.

Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load, And asks the image back that Heaven bestow'd! Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns,

And, as the slave departs, the man returns.

Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased a while, And HOPE, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, When leagued Oppression pour'd to Northern wars Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce hussars,

Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,

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

horn;

Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man!¡

Warsaw's last champion from her height sur

vey'd,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,

Oh! Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save !—

Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,
Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains!

By that dread name, we wave the sword on high!
And swear 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-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, Revenge, or death,—the watch-word and reply; Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm, And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm !

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :
Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;

Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,

Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

:

Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, Closed her bright eye, and curb'd her high career; HOPE, for a season, bade the world farewell,

And Freedom shriek'd-as KOSCIUSKO fell!

The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there,

Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,

His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;
The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way,
Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay!
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!
Earth shook-red meteors flash'd along the sky,
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry!

Oh! righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save?

Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod
That smote the foes of Zion and of God;

That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Where was the storm that slumber'd till the host
Of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coast;

Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,

And heaved an ocean on their march below?

Departed spirits of the mighty dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!

Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,

Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!

Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,

And make her arm puissant as your own!

Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return

The patriot TELL-the BRUCE OF BANNOCKBURN !

Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see That man hath yet a soul-and dare be free!

A little while, along thy saddening plains,

The starless night of Desolation reigns;

Truth shall restore the light by Nature given,

And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd,

Her name, her nature, wither'd from the world!