For lo, in other climes and elder states, What strange inversion all his works awaits! From age to age, on every peopled shore, Stalks the fell Demon of despotic power, Sweeps in his march the mounds of art away. Blots with his breath the trembling disk of day, Treads down whole nations every stride he takes, And wraps their labors in his fiery flakes. As Anarch erst around his regions hurl'd The wrecks, long crush'd, of time's anterior world; While nature mourn'd, in wild confusion tost, Her suns extinguisht and her systems lost; Light, life and instinct shared the dreary trance, And gravitation fled the field of chance; No laws remain'd of matter, motion, space; Time lost his count, the universe his place; Till Order came, in her cerulean robes, And launch'd and rein'd the renovated globes, Stock'd with harmonious worlds the vast Inane, Archt her new heaven and fixt her boundless reign: So kings convulse the moral frame, the base Of all the codes that can accord the race; And so from their broad grasp, their deadly ban, Tis yours to snatch this earth, to raise regenerateman. My friends, I love your fame, I joy to raise The high-toned anthem of my country's praise; To sing her victories, virtues, wisdom, weal, Boast with loud voice the patriot pride I feel; Warm wild I sing; and, to her failings blind, Mislead myself, perhaps mislead mankind. Land that I love! is this the whole we owe? Thy pride to pamper, thy fair face to show; Dwells there no blemish where such glories shine? And lurks no spot in that bright sun of thine? Hark! a dread voice, with heaven-astounding strain, Swells Wee a thousand thunders o'er the main, Rolls and reverberates around thy hills, And Hesper's heart with pangs paternal fills. Thou hearst him not; tis Atlas, throned sublime. Great brother guardian of old Afric's clime; High o'er his coast he rears his frowning form, Overlooks and calms his sky-borne fields of storm, Flings off the clouds that round his shoulders hung, And breaks from clogs of ice his trembling tongue; While far thro space with rage and grief he glares, Heaves his hoar head and shakes the heaven he bears: --Son of my sire! O latest brightest birth That sprang from his fair spouse, prolific earth! Great Hesper, say what sordid ceaseless hate Impels thee thus to mar my elder state. Our sire assign'd thee thy more glorious reign, Secured and bounded by our laboring main; That main (tho still my birthright name it bear) Thy sails o'ershadow, thy brave children share; I grant it thus; while air surrounds the ball, Let breezes blow, let oceans roll for all. But thy proud sons, a strange ungenerous race, Enslave my tribes, and each fair world disgrace, Provoke wide vengeance on their lawless land, The bolt ill placed in thy forbearing hand.-- Enslave my tribes! then boast their cantons free,