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The Asian, in the blushing face of day,His wife, his child, sees sternly torn away;Yet dares not to revenge, while war's dread roarFloats, in long echoing, on the blood-stain'd shore.In Europe too wild ruin rushes fast:See! like a meteor on the midnight blast,Or evil spirit brooding over gore,Napoleon calm can war, can misery pour.May curses blast thee; and in thee the breedWhich forces, which compels, a world to bleed;May that destruction, which 'tis thine to spread,Descend with ten-fold fury on thy head.Oh! may the death, which marks thy fell career,In thine own heart's blood bathe the empoisoned spear;May long remorse protract thy latest groan,Then shall Oppression tremble on its throne.Yet this alone were vain; Freedom requiresA torch more bright to light its fading fires;Man must assert his native rights, must sayWe take from Monarchs' hand the granted sway;
