Sing their mad hymns of triumph; hymns to God,
O’er the destruction of his gracious works!
Hymns to the Father, o’er his slaughter’d sons!
Detested be their sword! abhorr’d their name,
And scorn’d the tongues that praise them!—Happier Thou,
Of peace and science friend, hast held thy course
Blameless and pure; and such is thy renown.
And let that secret voice within thy breast
Approve thee, then shall these high sounds of praise
Which thou hast heard be as sweet harmony,