His upturn’d eye and heaving breast
The mighty frenzy quick confess’d;
The sympathetic strings beneath
A wild inspiring chorus breathe,
And, borne the lofty halls along,
Floats high the patriot minstrel’s song:—
The mildew of time steeps the laurel-bound wreath,
And the war-sword ingloriously rusts in its sheath,
Which burst on the foe as the bolt from on high,
And sprinkled the blood of revenge to the sky.