By angry spirits in the heaven,
My wrath in thunders I make known,
And discord claims me as her own.
’Tis love of freedom makes me wild,--
When uncontroll’d, my nature’s mild;
And oft the nymph, in dewy grot
Seeks solace from my plaintive note;
O’er lovers’ graves I waft a sigh,
And breathe the sound of sympathy.
And know, ye sons of Albion’s isle,