Where human fiends on midnight errands walk, In Libyan groves, where damned rites are done, Wild Obi flies-the veil is rent in twain. Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mountains roam, Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home; Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased a while, When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn; Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man! Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew : |