Iberian bands! whose noble ardour glows To pour confusion on oppressive foes; Intrepid spirits, hail! ’tis yours to feel The hero’s fire, the freeman’s godlike zeal! Not to secure dominion’s boundless reign, Ye wave the flag of conquest o’er the slain; No cruel rapine leads you to the war, Nor mad ambition, whirl’d in crimson car. No, brave Castilians! yours a nobler end, Your land, your laws, your monarch to defend! For these, for these, your valiant legions rear The floating standard, and the lofty spear! The fearless lover wields the conquering sword, Fired by the image of the maid adored! His best-beloved, his fondest ties, to aid, The father’s hand unsheaths the glittering blade! For each, for all, for ev’ry sacred right, The daring patriot mingles in the fight! And e’en if love or friendship fail to warm, His country’s name alone can nerve his dauntless arm! He bleeds! he falls! his deathbed is the field! His dirge the trumpet, and his bier the shield! His closing eyes the beam of valour speak, The flush of ardour lingers on his cheek; Serene he lifts to heaven those closing eyes, Then for his country breathes a prayer--and dies! Oh! ever hallow’d be his verdant grave-- There let the laurel spread, the cypress wave! Thou, lovely Spring! bestow, to grace his tomb, Thy sweetest fragrance, and thy earliest bloom; There let the tears of heaven descend in balm, There let the poet consecrate his palm! Let honour, pity, bless the holy ground, And shades of sainted heroes watch around! ’Twas thus, while Glory rung his thrilling knell, Thy chief, O Thebes! at Mantinea fell; Smiled undismay’d within the arms of death, While Victory, weeping nigh, received his breath! O thou, the sovereign of the noble soul! Thou source of energies beyond control! Queen of the lofty thought, the generous deed, Whose sons unconquer’d fight, undaunted bleed,-- Inspiring Liberty! thy worshipp’d name The warm enthusiast kindles to a flame; Thy charms inspire him to achievements high, Thy look of heaven, thy voice of harmony. More blest with thee to tread perennial snows, Where ne’er a flower expands, a zephyr blows; Where Winter, binding nature in his chain, In frost-work palace holds perpetual reign; Than, far from thee, with frolic step to rove The green savannas and the spicy grove; Scent the rich balm of India’s perfumed gales, In citron-woods and aromatic vales: For oh! fair Liberty, when thou art near, Elysium blossoms in the desert drear!