I watch the wheels of Nature's mazy plan,

And learn the future by the paft of man.

Come, bright Improvement! on the car of Time, And rule the fpacious world from clime to clime: Thy handmaid arts fhall every wild explore,

Trace every wave, and culture every fhore.

On Erie's banks, where tygers fteal along,

And the dread Indian chants a dismal fong,
Where human fiends on midnight errands walk,
And bathe in brains the murd'rous tomahawk;
There fhall the flocks on thymy pafture ftray,
And fhepherds dance at Summer's op'ning day;
Each wand'ring genius of the lonely glen

Shall flart to view the glittering haunts of men;

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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, 335

That bathe the rocks in blood, and veil the fun,

Truth fhall arreft the murd'rous arm profane,

Wild Obi flies 7-the veil is rent in twain.

Where barb'rous hordes on Scythian mountains roam,

Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet fhall find a home;
Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,

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

8

Truth fhall pervade th' unfathom'd darkness there,
And light the dreadful features of despair :

Hark! the ftern captive fpurns his heavy load,

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And asks the image back that Heaven beftow'd!

Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns,

t

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, 350
When leagu'd Oppreffion pour'd to Northern wars

Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce huffars,

Wav'd 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,

Prefaging wrath to Poland-and to man !

Warfaw's laft champion, from her height furvey'd, Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,—

Oh! Heaven! he cry'd, my bleeding country fave!

Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?

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Yet, though deftruction sweep these 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 faid, and, on the rampart-heights, array'd
His trufty warriors, few, but undifmay'd;
Firm-pac'd and flow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
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!

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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;

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Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,

Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

Dropt 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 ftorm prevails, the rampart yields a way,
Burfts the wild cry of horror and difmay

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