Trumpet of Liberty

The Trumpet of Liberty sounds thro the world, And the universe starts at the sound. Her standard philosophy's hand has unfurl'd, And the nations are thronging around,

Fall, tyrants! fall! fall! fall! These are the days of Liberty! Fall, tyrants! fall!

How noble the ardor that seizes the soul! How it bursts from the yoke and the chain! What power can the fervor of Freedom controul, Or its terrible vengeance restrain?

Proud castle of despotism, dungeons and cells, The tempest shall sweep you away; From the east to the west the dread hurricane swells, And the tyrants are chill'd with dismay.

The slave on whose head the proud despots have trod, Now feels that himself is a man, While the lordly usurper who rul'd with a nod, Hides his head midst his servile divan.

Poor vassals, who crawl by the Vistula's stream, Hear, hear the glad call and obey! Rise, nations! who worship the sun's facred beams. And drive your Pizarro's away.

The cruel dominion of priestcraft is o'er, Its thunders, its faggots and chains; Mankind will endure the wild bondage no more, While religion our Freedom maintains.

Shall Britons the chorus of Liberty hear, With a cold and insensible mind? No—triumphs of Freedom each Briton shall share, And contend for the rights of mankind.