Behold where Gallia’s captive queen,
With steady eye and look serene,
In life’s last awful—awful scene,
Slow leaves her sad captivity.
Hark! the shrill horn that rends the sky
Bespeaks thy ready murder nigh,
The long parade of death I spy,
And leave my lone captivity.
Farewell, ye mansions of despair,
Scenes of my sad sequestered care.
The balm of bleeding war is near.
Adieu, my lone captivity.
To purer mansions in the sky,
Fair Hope directs my grief-worn eye,
Where sorrow’s child no more shall sigh
Amid her lone captivity.
Adieu, ye babes whose infant bloom
Beneath oppression’s lawless doom,
Pines in the solitary gloom
Of undeserved captivity.
O Power benign that rul’st on high,
Cast down, cast down a pitying eye;
Shed consolation from the sky,
To soothe their sad captivity.
Now virtue’s sure reward to prove,
I seek empyreal realms above,
To meet my long-departed love;
Adieu my lone captivity.