Thy sons reproached with their great father's fame,
And on his world inscribed another's name!
That world a prison-house, full of sights of woe,
Where groans burst forth, and tears in torrents flow!
These gardens of the sun, sacred to song,
By dogs of carnage, howling loud and long,
Swept—till the voyager, in the desert air,
Starts back to hear his altered accents there!
“ Not thine the olive, but the sword to bring,
Not peace, but war! Yet from these shores shall spring
Peace without end ; * from these, with blood defiled,
Spread the pure spirit of thy Master mild !
Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend,
Arts to adorn, and arms but to defend.
Assembling here, all nations shall be blest;
The sad be comforted; the weary rest:
Untouched shall drop the fetters from the slave;
And He shall rule the world he died to save!
“ Hence, and rejoice. The glorious work is done. A spark is thrown that shall eclipse the sun! And, tho' bad men shall long thy course pursue, As erst the ravening brood o'er chaos flew, + He, whom I serve, shall vindicate his reign; The spoiler spoiled of all; the slayer slain ; The tyrant's self, oppressing and opprest, Mid gems and gold unenvied and unblest : * See Washington's farewell address to his fellow-citizens.
+ See Paradise Lost. X.