Page:The Spirit of the Nation.djvu/153

Rh Where of old a tyrant's horde ply'd the lash,

She flung her blazon'd shield

On the far-illumin'd field,

And the lofty mountains reeled

With the clash.

V.

Clouds distent with gore

Above her darkly hang—

Lightnings leap before,

Around her thunders clang,

And marshall'd tempests roar like the sea.

Her splendour fills the air,

And the nations, in its glare,

By their broken altars swear

To be free!

VI.

Then our iron fetters fall

Like poison weeds around,

And lie inky as a pall

On the stain'd and loathing ground;

And the carrion-birds of heaven o'er them sail.

While the sound of joyful bells

On the laughing zephyr swells

From thy glorious em'ral' dells,

Innisfail!

VII.

The sounding woods rejoice,

And the waves around thee sing,

And the tones of Freedom's voice

Thro' thy ruin'd turrets ring;

And thy buried monarchs smile from the spheres.

And many a hallow'd name,

That long slept in silent shame,

Now in characters of flame

Bright appears.