Page:Poems (Bryant, 1821).djvu/31



Europe is given a prey to sterner fates,

And writhes in shackles; strong the arms that chain

To earth her struggling multitude of states;

She too is strong, and might not chafe in vain

Against them, but shake off the vampyre train

That batten on her blood, and break their net.

Yes, she shall look on brighter days, and gain

The meed of worthier deeds; the moment set

To rescue and raise up, draws near—but is not yet.

But thou, my country, thou shalt never fall,

But with thy children—thy maternal care,

Thy lavish love, thy blessings shower’d on all—

These are thy fetters—seas and stormy air

Are the wide barrier of thy borders, where

Among thy gallant sons that guard thee well,

Thou laugh’st at enemies: who shall then declare

The date of thy deep-founded strength, or tell

How happy, in thy lap, the sons of men shall dwell.