With that sweet music of deliverance strove?
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove 45
A dance more wild than e’er was maniac’s dream?
Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled,
The sun was rising, though ye hid his light!’
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
When France her front deep-scarred and gory 51
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory;
When, insupportably advancing,