Hail! heaven-born Liberty! I feel thy pow’r
Awakening in my breast, at this lone hour,
As o’er thy martyr’s tomb I fondly bend;
Such holy, fervent ecstasy,
That health, and strength, and life, for thee!
In noble daring I would freely spend.
Who blushes not, to bear the name of Slave,
Let him not venture near this hallow’d grave.
There is a fresh’ning odour round,
Which makes the freeman’s heart to bound
Like summer leaves;—but the blanch’d cheek,
Tyrants and vassals show,—bespeak
A fear is on them, which awakens dread,
As though their step should rouse th’ indignant dead.