4 When rolling seasons cease to change, Inconstancy forgets to range; When lavish May no more shall bloom, Nor gardens yield a rich perfume; When Nature from her sphere shall start, I'll tear my Nanny from my heart.
Thy spirit, Independence! let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye; Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. Deep in the frozen regions of the north, A goddess violated brought thee forth, Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime, Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime. What time the iron-hearted Gaul, With frantic Superstition for his guide, 10 Arm'd with the dagger and the pall, The sons of Woden to the field defied; The ruthless hag, by Weser's flood, In Heaven's name urged the infernal blow, And red the stream began to flow: The vanquished were baptised with blood![1]
The Saxon prince in horror fled From altars stain'd with human gore; And Liberty his routed legions led In safety to the bleak Norwegian shore. 20 There in a cave asleep she lay, Lull'd by the hoarse resounding main; When a bold savage pass'd that way, Impell'd by destiny, his name Disdain.
Of ample front the portly chief appear'd: The hunted bear supplied a shaggy vest; The drifted snow hung on his yellow beard, And his broad shoulders braved the furious blast. He stopp'd; he gazed; his bosom glow'd, And deeply felt the impression of her charms; 30 He seized the advantage Fate allow'd, And straight compress'd her in his vigorous arms.
The curlew scream'd, the Tritons blew Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite; Old Time exulted as he flew, And Independence saw the light; The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, Where, under cover of a flowering thorn, While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, The auspicious fruit of stolen embrace was born. 40 The mountain Dyriads seized with joy The smiling infant to their charge consign'd; The Doric Muse caress'd the favourite boy; The hermit Wisdom stored his opening mind: As rolling years matured his age, He flourish'd bold and sinewy as his sire; While the mild passions in his breast assuage The fiercer flames of his maternal fire.
Accomplish'd thus he wing'd his way, And zealous roved from pole to pole, 50 The rolls of right eternal to display, And warm with patriot thoughts the aspiring soul; On desert isles 'twas he that raised Those spires that gild the Adriatic wave,[2] Where Tyranny beheld, amazed, Fair Freedom's temple where he mark'd her grave: He steel'd the blunt Batavian's arms To burst the Iberian's double chain; And cities rear'd, and planted farms, Won from the skirts of Neptune's wide domain.[3] 60 He with the generous rustics sate On Uri's rocks[4] in close divan; And wing'd that arrow sure as fate, Which ascertain'd the sacred rights of man.