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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