Lo! in Iberian hearts thine ardor lives,
Lo! in Iberian hearts thy spark revives!

Proceed, proceed, ye firm undaunted band!
Still sure to conquer, if combined ye stand:
Though myriads flashing in the eye of day,
Stream'd o'er the smiling land in long array;
Though tyrant Asia pour'd unnumber'd foes,
Triumphant still the arm of Greece arose :
For ev'ry state in sacred union stood,

Strong to repel invasion's whelming flood;
Each heart was glowing in the gen'ral cause,
Each hand prepared to guard their hallow'd laws;
Athenian valor join'd Laconia's might,
And but contended to be first in fight;
From rank to rank the warm contagion ran,
And Hope and Freedom led the flaming van:
Then Persia's monarch mourn'd his glories lost,
As wild confusion wing'd his flying host;
Then Attic bards the hymn of victory sung,
The Grecian harp to notes exulting rung!
Then Sculpture bade the Parian stone record
The high achievements of the conquering sword.
Thus, brave Castilians! thus may bright renown
And fair success your valiant efforts crown!

Genius of chivalry! whose early days
Tradition still recounts in artless lays;
Whose faded splendors fancy oft recalls,
The floating banners, and the lofty halls;
The gallant feats thy festivals display'd,
The tilt, the tournament, the long crusade;
Whose ancient pride Romance delights to hail,
In fabling numbers, or heroic tale:

Those times are fled, when stern thy castles frown'd,
Their stately towers with feudal grandeur crown'd;

Those times are fled, when fair Iberia's clim

Beheld thy Gothic reign, thy pomp sublime;
And all thy glories, all thy deeds of yore,
Live but in legends wild, and poet's lore.
Lo! where thy silent harp neglected lies,
Light o'er its chords the murm'ring zephyr sighs;
Thy solemn courts, where once the minstrel sung,
The choral voice of mirth and music rung;
Now, with the ivy clad, forsaken, lone,
Hear but the breeze and echo to its moan:
Thy lonely tow'rs deserted fall away,
Thy broken shield is mould'ring in decay.
Yet though thy trancient pageantries are gone,
Like fairy visions, bright, yet swiftly flown;
Genius of chivalry! thy noble train,
Thy firm, exalted virtues yet remain !

Fair truth, array'd in robes of spotless white,
Her eye a sunbeam, and her zone of light;
Warm emulation, with aspiring aim,
Still darting forward to the wreath of fame;
And purest love, that waves his torch divine,
At awful honor's consecrated shrine ;
Ardor, with eagle-wing and fiery glance;
And gen'rous courage, resting on his lance;
And loyalty, by perils unsubdued;
Untainted faith, unshaken fortitude;

And patriot energy, with heart of flame-
These, in Iberia's sons are yet the same!

These from remotest days their souls have fired.
"Nerved ev'ry arm," and ev'ry breast inspired!
When Moorish bands their suffering land possess'd,
And fierce oppression rear'd her giant crest;
The wealthy caliphs on Cordova's throne,
In eastern gems and purple splendor shone,
Theirs was the proud magnificence that vied
With stately Bagdat's oriental pride;

Theirs were the courts in regal pomp array'd,
Where arts and luxury their charms display'd;
"Twas theirs to rear the Zehrar's costly towers,
Its fairy-palace and enchanted bowers;
There all Arabian fiction e'er could tell,
Of potent genii or of wizard spell;

All that a poet's dream could picture bright,

One sweet Elysium, charm'd the wond'ring sight!
Too fair, too rich, for work of mortal hand,

It seem'd an Eden from Armida's wand!

Yet vain their pride, their wealth, and radiant state, When freedom waved on high the sword of fate! When brave Ramiro bade the despots fear,

Stern retribution frowning on his spear;
And fierce Almanzor, after many a fight,

O'erwhelmed with shame, confess'd the Christian's might.

in later times the gallant Cid arose, Burning with zeal against his country's foes; His victor-arm Alphonso's throne maintain'd,

His laureate brows the wreath of conquest gain'd;

And still his deeds Castilian bards rehearse,

Inspiring theme of patriotic verse!
high in the temple of recording fame,
Iberia points to great Gonsalvo's name;
Victorious chief! whose valor still defied

The arms of Gaul, and bow'd her crested pride;

With splendid trophies graced his sov'reign's throne,
And bade Granada's realms his prowess own.
Nor were his deeds thy only boast, O Spain!
In mighty FERDINAND's illustrious reign;

'Twas then thy glorious Pilot spread the sail,
Unfurl'd his flag before the eastern gale;
Bold, sanguine, fearless, ventured to explore
Seas unexplored, and worlds unknown before.
Fair science guided o'er the liquid realm,
Sweet hope, exulting, steer'd the daring helm;
While on the mast, with ardor-flashing eye,
Courageous enterprise still hover'd nigh:
The hoary genius of th' Atlantic main,
Saw man invade his wide majestic reign;
His empire, yet by mortal unsubdued,
The throne, the world of awful solitude!
And e'en when shipwreck seem'd to rear his form,
And dark destruction menaced in the storm,
In ev'ry shape, when giant-peril rose,
To daunt his spirit and his course oppose;
O'er ev'ry heart when terror sway'd alone,
And hope forsook each bosom but his own:
Moved by no dangers, by no fears repell'd,
His glorious track the gallant sailor held;
Attentive still to mark the sea-birds lave,
Or high in air their snowy pinions wave,
Thus princely Jason, launching from the steep,
With dauntless prow explored th' untravell'd deep;
Thus, at the helm, Ulysses' watchful sight,
View'd ev'ry star and planetary light.

Sublime COLUMBUS! when, at length descried,
The long-sought land arose above the tide;
How ev'ry heart with exultation glow'd,

How from each eye the tear of transport flow'd!
Not wilder joy the sons of Israel knew,

When Canaan's fertile plains appeared in view.
Then rose the choral anthem on the breeze,
Then martial music floated o'er the seas;
Their waving streamers to the sun display'd,
In all the pride of warlike pomp array'd;
Advancing nearer still, the ardent band

Hail'd the glad shore, and bless'd the stranger land;
Admired its palmy groves and prospects fair,
With rapture breathed its pure ambrosial air:
Then crowded round its free and simple race,
Amazement pictured wild on ev'ry face;
Who deem'd that beings of celestial birth,
Sprung from the sun, descended to the earth-
Then first another world, another sky,
Beheld Iberia's banner blaze on high!

Still prouder glories beam on history's page, Imperial CHARLES! to mark thy prosperous age: Those golden days of arts and fancy bright, When Science poured her mild, refulgent light;

When Painting bade the glowing canvass breathe,
Creative Sculpture claim'd the living wreath;
When roved the Muses in Ausonian bowers,
Weaving immortal crowns of fairest flowers,
When angel-truth dispersed, with beam divine,
The clouds that veil'd religion's hallow'd shrine;
Those golden days beheld Iberia tower
High on the pyramid of fame and power;
Vain all the efforts of her numerous foes,
Her might, superior still, triumphant rose.
Thus, on proud Lebanon's exalted brow,
The cedar, frowning o'er the plains below,
Though storms assail, its regal pomp to rend,
Majestic, still aspires, disdaining e'er to bend!

When Gallia pour'd, to Pavia's trophied plain,
Her youthful knights, a bold, impetuous train;
When, after many a toil and danger past,
The fatal morn of conflict rose at last;
That morning saw her glittering host combine,
And form in close array the threat'ning line;
Fire in each eye, and force in ev'ry arm,
With hope exulting, and with ardour warm;
Saw to the gale their streaming ensigns play,
Their armor flashing to the beam of day;
Their gen'rous chargers panting, spurn the ground,
Roused by the trumpet's animating sound;
And heard in air their warlike music float,
The martial pipe, the drum's inspiring note!

Pale set the sun-the shades of evening fell, The mournful night-wind rung their funeral knell; And the same day beheld their warriors dead, Their sovereign captive, and their glories fled! Fled like the lightning's evanescent fire,

Bright, blazing, dreadful-only to expire!

Then, then, while prostrate Gaul confess'd her might, Iberia's planet shed meridian light!

Nor less, on famed St. Quintin's deathful day,

Castilian spirit bore the prize away;

Laurels that still their verdure shall retain,

And trophies beaming high in glory's fane!

And lo! her heroes, warm with kindred flame,
Still proudly emulate their fathers' fame;
Still with the soul of patriot-valor glow,
Still rush impetuous to repel the foe;

Wave the bright faulchion, lift the beamy spear,
And bid oppressive Gallia learn to fear!
Be theirs, be theirs, unfading honor's crown,
The living amaranths of bright renown!
Be theirs th' inspiring tribute of applause,,
Due to the champions of their country's cause!

Be theirs the purest bliss that virtue loves,
The joy when conscience whispers and approves!
When ev'ry heart is fired, each pulse beats high,
To fight, to bleed, to fall, for liberty;

When ev'ry hand is dauntless and prepared,
The sacred charter of mankind to guard;
When Britain's valiant sons their aid unite,
Fervent and glowing still for freedom's right,
Bid ancient enmities for ever cease,

And ancient wrongs forgotten sleep in peace;
When, firmly leagued, they join the patriot band,
Can venal slaves their conquering arms withstand?
Can fame refuse their gallant deeds to bless?
Can victory fail to crown them with success?

Look down, oh, Heaven! the righteous cause maintain,
Defend the injured, and avenge the slain!
Despot of France! destroyer of mankind!

;

What spectre-cares must haunt thy sleepless mind!
Oh! if at midnight round thy regal bed,
When soothing visions fly thine aching head
When sleep denies thy anxious cares to calm,
And lull thy senses in his opiate balm;
Invoked by guilt, if airy phantoms rise,
And murder'd victims bleed before thine eyes;
Loud let them thunder in thy troubled ear,
"Tyrant! the hour, th' avenging hour is near!"
It is, it is! thy star withdraws its ray,
Soon will its parting lustre fade away;
Soon will Cimmerian shades obscure its light,
And veil thy splendors in eternal night!

Oh! when accusing conscience wakes thy soul,
With awful terrors, and with dread control,

Bids threat'ning forms, appalling, round thee stand,
And summons all her visionary band;

Calls up the parted shadows of the dead,
And whispers, peace and happiness are fled;
E'en at the time of silence and of rest,
Paints the dire poniard menacing thy breast
Is then thy cheek with guilt and horror pale?
Then dost thou tremble, does thy spirit fail?
And wouldst thou yet by added crimes provoke
The bolt of heaven to launch the fatal stroke?
Bereave a nation of its rights revered,
Of all to mortals sacred and endear'd?
And shall they tamely liberty resign,
The soul of life, the source of bliss divine?
Can'st thou, supreme destroyer! hope to bind,
In chains of adamant, the noble mind?
Go, bid the rolling orbs thy mandate hear,
Go, stay the lightning in its wing'd career!
No, tyrant! no, thy utmost force is vain,
The patriot-arm of freedom to restrain: