Truth shall arrest the murderous arm profane,
Wild Obi flies[11]—the veil is rent in twain.
Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mountains roam
Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home;
Where’er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,
From Guinea’s coast to Sibir’s[12] dreary mines,
Truth shall pervade the unfathomed darkness there,
And light the dreadful features of despair.
Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load,
And asks the image back that Heaven bestowed!