Melody III. the Temple of Liberty

What accents streaming from the solemn shell Dilate their choral symphony? What songs of warbled extacy O'er Albion's hoary mountains swell And float along the sky? Oh Liberty! thy natal day To hymn awakes the festive lay: Amid the empyrean fires Bend from their golden thrones thy sainted sires As their loud harps to thee a thousand minstrels sway.

With diamond inflamed and glowing gold, Emergent from the orient air, Thy consecrated courts appear, Where they whose hearts thy love controlled Celestial raptures share. For ever bright with living green, Around elysian groves are seen; Young Spring from her ambrosial vase Her silver dews and fragrant blooms displays; And all the Pleasures vie to grace the happy scene.

Revive, revive, thou British lyre! Revive thy genuine fire! Thy genuine transports bestow! To deck each worshipped head Let Fame her radiant chaplet braid; Her sonorous clarion blow! Conciliate their gallant bands The Fathers of each rival realm, And hither oft in grace they send; The social sympathy to tend, The foes of Liberty to whelm, And o'er the favoured shores ordain The glories of her reign.

While starry legions from the azure clime Pour on the sight their blended rays To whom shall Glory's altar blaze? To whom the golden sire of rhyme The soaring anthem raise? To them the prime whose dauntless mind The eagle of the east confined; Who as he sped his bloody path Oft by the lightning of their rapid wrath Shorn of his gaudy plumes fled screaming on the wind.

Her rent sails fluttering o'er the stormy wave Behold the publick prow obey Each blast that wheels her boisterous way; No pilot from the rocks to save Or to the port convey. Lo! on the deck in warlike guise The chosen mariners arise; New tackle binds each steady sail; Supreme in state she wooes the vernal gale, And every treacherous shoal and daring rock defies.

The generous heir of Cambria's fame Declare with loud acclaim, With strains of deep anguish deplore: Let equal accents wait The rival of his hapless fate, The vaunt tower of the northern shore. Lend the martial trumpet breath; Borne on that fiery courser view, By Valour led and Victory, The lord of Scotia's chivalry; His march a fearless train ensue, Where'er they go, the home bred Muse Her rural incense strews.

From gloom escaped the rosy star of morn Precedes the jocund hours of light: Ah dreary storms their splendor blight! Yet soon the rainbow's hues adorn The horrors of the night. Dissolving each opposing cloud The sun devolves his noonday flood: What scenes appear his blaze beneath! The crown refulgent thro' the shades of death! The sable scaffold dyed with dews of sovereign blood!

He dies! He dies! the holy Anarch dies! Ye sons of Albion be free! Resounds the voice of Liberty While nations gaze with wondering eyes The fall of Tyranny. The happy flow of Glory's tide Gay fleets with shouts of triumph ride: Stern chiefs their glittering banners wave, While sages teach each adverse blast to brave, Airs from the seraph shell their ardent labours guide.

The crown of amaranth to blend On wings of flame ascend, O Muse, to the regions of day; Where living fountains bye, The flowrets of eternity To breezes of harmony play. Nassau's mild front thou wreath entwine, Before whose matin radiance fled The coward Wolf, and left his prey With grim despair. His howling way Fantastic Folly leads and Dread, While Scorn's deriding retinue And Grief and Shame pursue.

How art thou fallen from thy summer sky, Thou meteor, whose lustre drear Shot torments thro' the sickly air, Gave provinces to penury And all the waste of war! Where'er thy deadly influence flowed The thunder of the battle glowed; Mad Slaughter poured the rain of gore The blasted plains and flaming cities o'er, And Famine and Despair and Desolation trod.

Till clad in Virtue's light the warrior rose Decreed lost empires to redeem: The British lion followed him, And thro' the files of serried foes Diffused the sanguine stream. His state a pomp of Graces led, As on the car of Fate conveyed, He held his victor way. Around Exulting monarchs grateful trophies crowned; And Liberty and Peace their sacred treasures spred.

High on the sunny mount of Power, To Fame's indulgent shower, The branches of Este arise. Long o'er the hallowed stem May Fortune's regal bounties teem, And lift its fair head to the skies. Can ever Tyranny control With lasting sway the happy isle? Can Winter still his rule retain? The tempests of his iron reign, When Spring reveals her genial smile, New music to each river yield, New verdure to each field.