Fled, like the raven from the bird of Jove, From swift impending vengeance fled in vain? Are these our lords? And can Britannia see Her foes oft vanquish'd, thus defy her power, Insult her standard, and enslave her sons, And not arise to justice? Did our sires, Unawed by chains, by exile, or by death, 70 Preserve inviolate her guardian rights, To Britons ever sacred, that her sons Might give them up to Spaniards?--Turn your eyes, Turn, ye degenerate, who with haughty boast Call yourselves Britons, to that dismal gloom, That dungeon dark and deep, where never thought Of joy or peace can enter; see the gates Harsh-creaking open; what a hideous void, Dark as the yawning grave, while still as death A frightful silence reigns! There on the ground 80 Behold your brethren chain'd like beasts of prey: There mark your numerous glories, there behold The look that speaks unutterable woe; The mangled limb, the faint, the deathful eye, With famine sunk, the deep heart-bursting groan, Suppress'd in silence; view the loathsome food, Refused by dogs, and oh! the stinging thought! View the dark Spaniard glorying in their wrongs, The deadly priest triumphant in their woes, And thundering worse damnation on their souls: 90 While that pale form, in all the pangs of death, Too faint to speak, yet eloquent of all, His native British spirit yet untamed, Raises his head; and with indignant frown Of great defiance, and superior scorn, Looks up and dies.--Oh! I am all on fire! But let me spare the theme, lest future times Should blush to hear that either conquer'd Spain Durst offer Britain such outrageous wrong, Or Britain tamely bore it-- 100 Descend, ye guardian heroes of the land! Scourges of Spain, descend! Behold your sons; See! how they run the same heroic race, How prompt, how ardent in their country's cause, How greatly proud to assert their British blood, And in their deeds reflect their fathers' fame! Ah! would to heaven ye did not rather see How dead to virtue in the public cause, How cold, how careless, how to glory deaf, They shame your laurels, and belie their birth! 110