Malvern Hills :: :: University of Virginia Library

LHYRARCH's harp, unknown to guile,
In the Patriot's praise shall swell.
Every kingdom, every isle,
On the planet where we dwell,
Boasts its lords, in long array,
With titles high, and trappings gay,
But the proudest man is he,
Who, in slavery's evil hour,
Grapples with the tyrant's power,
And would set his country free.

II

The sun, that lights our earth, is fair,
And lovely is creation's face:
Wheree'er we look, on sea, or air,
Fresh beauties, rising still, we trace,
Whilst flowers, with their transcendent dyes,
On every side, spontaneous, rise!
Ah! who, when laughing life began,
E'er deem'd this world, so sweet, so mild,
The element of tempests wild,
Where man the torment is of man!

III

The strong, who should delight to bless,
Wring, from the weak, the bitter tear;
No little nook of quietness,
Where wrong and outrage disappear!
If, on the soil we call our own,
No blood-drunk despot fill the throne,

178

Some monster in the human form,
From far, with his ferocious band,
To strew with wrecks the happy land,
Advances, like the winter storm.

IV

High heaven, for all the ills that are,
Provides some cure, our Father kind!
He saw Oppression mount his car,
Vengeance before, and death behind;
And, to resist his baneful sway,
Call'd the Patriot into day!
He, warring with corruption's brood,
Heedless of calumny the while,
Moves on, with a disdainful smile,
And thinks, and speaks, and acts, for others' good.

V

The health and strength of every land
Are they whom truth and justice guide:
A small, but an intrepid band,
By frown, nor interest, turn'd aside;
Through mists, who, with an eagle's eye,
Their country's friend, or foe, descry;
And, oft as base-born sons appear,
With strenuous and effectual might,
Drag forth their victims to the light,
Scorning all perils in their great career.

VI

What gratitude to those we owe,
Who dared the roughest road to tread;—
Our valiant sires!—now mouldering low!
In many a strife, their blood who shed,

179

That we, their offspring, might be free,
And taste the sweets of liberty.
That gift, the purchase of the brave,
To all our children we will send;
Their heritage till time doth end!—
The blessings which their fathers gave!

VII

If men, in humbler station born,
Thus strew with gems their mortal way;
What clouds, refulgent, him adorn,
Who rises like the orb of day—
The Patriot Prince!—with liberal hand,
Who scatters blessings round his land;—
On equity who rears his throne;—
Disdains each low, each sordid end,
Proclaims himself his people's friend,
And from their happiness derives his own.

VIII

O prince! if I my ardour chide,
And curb what every string would tell;
It is, that thou art satisfied
In planning right, in doing well.
To fire thy spirit, nerve thy hand,
The noble dead before thee stand!
In elder days, when men arose
To quench old Cambria's hope in night,
Thy ancestors, in glory bright,
Triumphant scatter'd all her foes!

IX

Impetuous, as our torrents, rise!
Llewellyn! guardian of our name!

180

The Saxon, and his threat, despise,
And strengthen still our tower of fame!
Whilst England's slaves pollute our soil,
Thou scornest danger, scornest toil!
I see, aloft, thy scabbard thrown!
August, let Cambria yet appear,
Bulwak'd with the hero's spear,
Her genius, Thou; and all her praise, thy own!