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[III. Sudden, the mighty nation goes not down]
Sudden, the mighty nation goes not down,
There is no mortal fleetness in its fate;
Time,—many omens—still anticipate
The peril that removes its iron crown
And shakes its homes with ruin! Centuries
Fleet by in the long struggle; and great men
Rush mounted to the breach where victory lies,
And personal virtue brings us life again!
Were it not thus, my country!—were this hope
Not ours,—the present were a fearful time;
Vainly we summon mighty hearts to cope
With thy oppressors,—vanity and crime—
These ride thee, as upon some noble beast,
The scoundrel jackal, hurrying to his feast.
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