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Show 84 The soft rich breath of breezes comes laden with ; perfume, From the dewy groves of citron, and the orange tree in bloom. In the gardens of the palaces, the hand of Art hath given A beauty, that might well awake the Turkman's dream of Heaven; 'Vhere the fountain gushes cool beneath the greenly archmg vine, And flowers of magic loveliness, beneath its shadow twine- Where the wail-note of the prisoned bird tells the story of a land, Glittering in stolen wealth, retained by stern oppres-sion's hand. Within that lovely city, of vassalage and power; Of poverty and wasted wealth- of hovel and of tower, Are gathered on their kingly pride, a power-abusing band- The titled heads and iron hearts of Austria's groan-ing land, From I>re:;burg's halls and Servia's mines, the prince and noble meet, To forge anew the chains that bind the serf beneath their feet ; 'Midst hearts and feelings like his own, Priuce Met-ternich is there, A tyrant, that would crush the soul of freedom every where. 85 The hater of all fi d I The Ji ht f ,.' rce om. a spirit in whose power g o dbcrty would be the meteor of an hour. One stands withi1 1 a gorgeous hall, amidst that des-pot band, A stranaer fran tl :' 1 l C western world-our freedom~ .avored land . Where th' he_aven a~pealing vow hath said, mankmd are free that all And where Euro pe's. poo' r down~trodde n, for hope ;-tnd refuge flee; A son of our Arne.· 1 Tl '"" f f IICa. a wanderer where the soul Je ' e o reet1om sleeps enchained in tyranny'~ control! Where crowns and titles and tl power have crush.'d 1C pomp of kingly And trampled myriads of tlw llOOr and suffering to the dust;- Will he not scorn the princely hand, that binds a brother down 7 And hate the land of lord and slave-of fetter and of crown 1 'So, thou nrt from America-and pray what dost thou there? 'Toil like onr Servian vnssals-or trade in mer· chant's ware 1' Bland arc the tones of Metternich-but a bitter smile reveals The hatred th at his tyrant heart for freedom's birthplace feels : |
