And hear what my ill-boding mind
Fortells—Britannia soon must fall!
I snuff its ruin in the wind.
“For kings, by tyranny, have driven
Fair Freedom from Europa’s States;
(Freedom! thou choicest gift of Heaven!)
Then hear the doom fix’d by the fates:—
“Since men the heavenly gift despise,
And o’er th’ Atlantic Freedom’s fled,
Plagues, famine, tyranny, and wars shall rise,