All Europe with wonder surveys;
And, from deserts of darkness and dungeons of night,
Contends for a share of the blaze.
Ah! who ’midst the horrors of night would abide,
That can breathe the pure breezes of morn?
Or who, that has drunk the pure crystalline tide,
To the feculent flood would return?
When the bosom of Beauty the throbbing heart meets,
Ah, who can the transport decline?
Or who, that has tasted of Liberty’s sweets,