Northward to the Alpine ridge
Now she turns her lofty head;
Instant she lights; the massy bridge
Shakes beneath her sounding tread.

She asks of every hill and dale,

If he, the son she seeks, inhabits there; No answer comes upon the lonely gale : "Alas, thy son is vainly sought for here!"

Onward she moves; when from Helvetia's hill
A mournful accent strikes her troubled ear!

Her daring archer she remembers still,
When lo! his cloud-clad spirit glided near.

MUSE.

Hast thou seen my fav'rite son,
Once of thee so lov'd and known?
He who whisper'd in thine ear,
When the arrow, wing'd with fear,
At a tyrant's stern command
Fled from forth thy parent hand;
Once of thee so lov'd and known,
Hast thou seen my favourite son?

SPIRIT.

In vain, alas, thy favourite son

Of me was lov'd, of me was known!

Long since he fled, and left this land
A slave to every slave's command:
Petty tyrants rule her now,

And all in vain I drew the bow.

MUSE.

Northward perhaps he dwells: the rigorous North
Is still propitious to the patriot flame.
Perhaps thine eye descry'd him passing forth,
Perhaps thine ear retains his distant fame.
Say, doth he wander o'er the hollow plains
Of Dalecarlia, where he wont to stray,
And hear amid the miner's clanking chains

Big groans burst forth for that auspicious day, When he, the hero, patriot, sage, and king,

Should raise the voice, and lift the shining spear, That, like a comet leaping from his sphere, Pointed the path to liberty amain,

And flash'd red vengeance on the cruel Dane; Whereof remotest lands and latest times shall ring.

SPIRIT.

Alas, no more he wanders there,
No sounds congenial catch his ear;
No more the torch of Freedom lights
Their weary days, their tedious nights,
All dreary, dark, and wild!

O land, deserted and forlorn,
Never, ah never, shall return

Thy summer-sun: thy leaf is shed,
Virtue and Liberty are fled,

The parent with the child!

MUSE.

Say, doth he walk upon the face of earth,
Or lies he buried in the gulphy wave;
Or some enchantress frowning on his birth
Lulls in her lap, or locks him in her cave?
Time was, one touch of this resounding lyre
Rous'd him from line to line, from pole to pole;
Sublim'd him to the height of martial fire,

Or soft entranc'd to peace his melting soul. Where sleeps he now ?-The Goddess bow'd her head, No answer came—the cloud-clad sp'rit was fled.

She turn'd her steps;-when from the Arctic shore
A voice was heard across th' Atlantic roar :
"He lives! he lives!" the enraptur'd Goddess cries,
Then instant springs aloft and cleaves the skies ;
To the huge Andes points her eager way;
Stately she lights, and thus begins her lay

Ye giant hills, ye first-born of the earth,
That with Titanian fronts assail the skies!
Ye mighty race, who saw great Nature's birth,
And all the pigmy mountains round you rise,
Then when the waters fled
To their capacious bed,

And left the round earth rob'd in green,
Spangled with lakes and hills between!
Ye with solemn song I greet,

And on your tall heads plant my feet,
A stranger erst ;-but now a voice divine
Calls me to wait at Freedom's sacred shrine.

Lo! across the Darien land,
Bending to the dexter hand,

Lies a crescent-formed bay,

Once with fluttering streamers gay:
Commerce, the queen, her breast unbound,
Nourish'd all her children round;

Yet still with filial duty warm,

Own'd the sweet parental charm,
That binds with strong but gentle reign,
Beyond the tyrant's iron chain.

Now other sights and other sounds arise:
Black waves the flag upon the mournful shore;
In dread confrontment the red banner flies,
And hell's own engines wait the time to roar.

Seest thou not a form divine

Of the ancient Genii line,

Such as Rome and Athens own'd,

When on Freedom's base enthron'd?

'Tis he, long sought, through fears and toils,

The Genius of the British Isles!

Awful like a God he stands ;

The thronging nations lift their hands,
And, as they pour the ardent vow,
Catch inspiration from his brow.

Softly, ah softly, wake the sleeping fire,

Rouse not the angry lightning's utmost force; A parent's breast must meet its destin'd course, A parent's breast must bleed beneath its ire.

Be firm, but calmly firm;―maintain the rights
That Nature gives, and free-born manhood claims;
Pursue the radiant track where Virtue lights,

And on her sacred column grave your names.

But ah, if heedless duty aught have err'd,

If Freedom kindling in too fierce a blaze, That heaven-descended scroll hath aught impair'd, The thrice dear charities of human race!

O Mercy! stoop thou from thy golden skies,
Thy charmed veil among the nations cast,
Wave thy soft wand of pity o'er their eyes,

And tears on either face blot out the past.

So sung the Muse; the hills the strain prolong,
And Heav'n in thunder ratify'd the song.