Far o’er the stream the Cockneys sink or swim;
While each badged boatman,[[247]] clinging to his oar,
Bounds o’er the buoyant wave, and climbs the applauding shore.
So, towering Alp! from thy majestic ridge[[248]]
Young Freedom gazed on Lodi’s blood-stained Bridge;
Saw, in thick throngs, conflicting armies rush,
Ranks close on ranks, and squadrons squadrons crush;
Burst in bright radiance through the battle’s storm,
Waved her broad hands, displayed her awful form;
Bade at her feet regenerate nations bow,