When Prussia, drooping o’er her hero’s grave,
Invoked his spirit to descend and save;
Then set her glories—then expired her sun,
And fraud achieved e’en more than conquest won!
O’er peaceful realms, that smiled with plenty gay,
Has desolation spread her ample sway;
Thy blast, O Ruin! on tremendous wings,
Has proudly swept o’er empires, nations, kings.
Thus the wild hurricane’s impetuous force
With dark destruction marks its whelming course,