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Hark! as the fmouldering piles with thunder fall,

A thousand fhrieks for hopeless mercy call!

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

And confcious Nature fhudder'd at the cry!

390

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?

Departed fpirits of the mighty. dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!

Friends of the world! reftore your swords to man, 405

Fight in his facred cause, and lead the van !

Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,

And make her arm puiffant as your own!

Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return

The patriot TELL the BRUCE OF BANNOCKBURN! 410

Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land! fhall fee

That man hath yet a foul-and dare be free !

A little while, along thy faddening plains,
The starless night of defolation reigns;

Truth fhall reftore the light by Nature giv'n,
And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heav'n!

415

Prone to the duft oppreffion shall be hurl❜d,

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

Ye that the rifing morn invidious mark,

And hate the light-because your deeds are dark; 420

Ye that expanding truth invidious view,

And think, or with the fong of Hope untrue;
Perhaps your little hands prefume to fpan

The march of Genius, and the pow'rs of man;

Perhaps ye watch, at Pride's unhallow'd fhrine,
Her victims, newly flain, and thus divine :-

"Here fhall thy triumph, Genius, cease, and here
Truth, Science, Virtue, close your short career."

425

Tyrants in vain ye trace the wizard ring ;

In vain ye limit Mind's unwearied spring :

430

What can ye lull the winged winds afleep,

Arreft the rolling world, or chain the deep?

No:-the wild wave contemns your scepter'd hand ;—

It roll'd not back when Canute gave command!

Man! can thy doom no brighter foul allow?
Still must thou live a blot on Nature's brow?
Shall War's polluted banner ne'er be furl'd?
Shall crimes and tyrants cease but with the world?
What are thy triumphs, facred Truth, belied?

435

Why then hath Plato liv'd-or Sydney died!

440

Ye fond adorers of departed fame,

Who warm at Scipio's worth, or Tully's name!

Ye that, in fancied vifion, can admire

The fword of Brutus, and the Theban lyre!

Wrapt in hiftoric ardour, who adore

445

Each claffic haunt, and well-remember'd fhore,

Where Valour tun'd, amid her chofen throng,

The Thracian trumpet and the Spartan song;

Or, wand'ring thence, behold the later charms
Of England's glory, and Helvetia's arms!

450

See Roman fire in Hampden's bosom swell,

And fate and freedom in the fhaft of Tell!

Say, ye fond zealots to the worth of yore,

Hath Valour left the world-to live no more?

No more fhall Brutus bid a tyrant die,

455

And fternly smile with vengeance in his eye?

Hampden no more, when fuffering Freedom calls,

Encounter fate, and triumph as he falls?

Nor Tell disclose, through peril and alarm,

The might that flumbers in a peasant's arm?

450

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