High in the heav’ns, above the temple’s spire, Is seen a two edg’d sword of glowing fire: Dark clouds surround, the sun withdraws his light, A blazing comet, beautiful and bright, Rides thro’ the sky, and o’er the fated town Contrasts the darkness of Jehovah’s frown. And hark! the foe with fearless haste draws nigh, With martial songs they rend the cloudy sky; Thus ran the strain, while each, as if by choice, To aid the song, uplifts his manly voice. Freedom is the Roman’s word, Freedom draws the Roman’s sword, Freedom leads him to the fight, Freedom bids him shun the flight. Freedom is the Roman’s boast, Freedom is the Roman’s toast, Freedom ’tis for which we stand, Freedom and our native land. Rome o’er all the world shall reign, Or our bodies strew the plain; Unto death ourselves we give, But oar children free shall live. Nothing shall our arms impede, Onward spur each foaming steed; Banish ev’ry thought of love, And to glory swiftly move. Lame was the verse, but ev’ry bosom join’d, And look’d on death and victory combin’d; They rear their walls, the well-form’d camp they fix, Whilst all the troops together toiling mix. Full in their view the mant’ling towers rise, Well stock’d with foes, to guard against surprise; They see the Romans mow their rip’ning grain, Their forests levell’d, and their cattle slain. But now the trumpets sound, the task is done, The loosen’d coursers neighing, gaily run; Again the trumpets sound—the chiefs obey, The summon’d army stands in bright array. Now Titus comes—around each legion hies, His ready joy stands glist’ning in his eyes— “Aye, this looks well (he cries), it glads my heart To see each Roman stedfast to his part; Yon frowning walls, impregnable to view, Must fall and crumble, if you still are true; And that great God! whose wond’rous work we are, {9} Can end, at once, our labour and the war. Though thousands here believe in fabled tales, All other gods to Him are creeping snails By his great power form’d—and at a thrust He hurls them, moulder’d, to their native dust; Then to His throne alone our vows we’ll pay, And raise to heav’n our grateful ardent lay.” Amidst the noisy din of clanking steel, The wond’ring army as by instinct kneel, And with their leader thus their vows reveal. Only mighty, good, and great, Who, enthron’d in matchless state, Now reigns on high, And thro’ the sky Deals with unerring hand thy peace or curse, Attend our pray’r, Banish our care, And we will e’er thy wond’rous deeds rehearse. God of heaven! God of earth! Without ending, without birth, Our victory Must come from thee, From thee alone we have our life and breath. Oh! hear us now, To thee we bow, Now give us victory, or give us death.