SONG LXIII. Freedom or the Grave

Fill high the animating glass, And let th' electric ruby pass From hand to hand, from soul to soul; Who shall the energy controul, Exalted, pure, refin'd, The Hearth of Human kind!

Assert the hollow'd Rights which Nature gave, And let your last best Vow, be FREEDOM or the

Not now a venal tribe shall raise The song of prostituted praise, To sov'reigns who have seiz'd their pow'r; But at this gay, this lib'ral hour, We bless what Heaven design'd, The Health of Human kind.

We turn indignant from each cause Of man's dismay; from partial laws, From kings who vainly seek by flight, To shun the blaze of Mortal light; We bless what Heaven design'd, The Health of Human kind.