But far more rich the gold I'll give, to glad my vent'rous sons;
And, oh! to win its lustrous glance no tear of sad slaves run!
Oh! to-day a joy unwonted within my heart holds sway,
Such joy as feel the shipwrecked host, at sight of coming day,
Such joy as feel the city's tribes, long pent by war's alarms,
When, breathing in sweet fields again, they fly to Freedom's arms.