University of Virginia Library


399

THE REVOLUTION OF 1832.

See, the slow Angel writhes in dreams of pain!
His cheek indignant glows!
Like Stanedge, shaking thunder from his mane,
He starts from his repose.
Wide, wide, his earthquake-voice is felt and heard;
“Arise, ye brave and just!”
The living sea is to its centre stirr'd—
And, lo! our foes are dust!
The earth beneath the feet of millions quakes;
The whirlwind-cloud is riv'n;
As midnight, smitten into lightning, wakes,
So waked the sword of Heav'n.
The angel drew not from its sheath that sword;
He spake, and all was done!
Night fled away before the Almighty word,
And, lo!—the sun! the sun!