With echoing peal doth fall.
. . . . . . . . . .
O, what unmingled pleasure then
My youthful heart would feel,
And o’er its thrilling chords each thought
Of former days would steal!
. . . . . . . . . .
Amid the scenes of past delight,
Or misery, I’d roam,
Where ruthless tyrants swayed in might,