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She flourishes wlicre'er the sun-beams play O'er living fountains, sallying into day ; She withers where the waters cease to roll. And night and winter stagnate round the pole : 3Ian too, where freedom's beams and fountains rise. Springs from the dust, and blossoms to the skies ; Dead to the joys of light and life, the slave Clings to the clod ; his root is in the grave ; Bondage is winter, darkness, death, despair, Freedom the sun, the sea, the mountains, and the air !
In placid indolence supinely blest, A feeble race these beauteous isles possess'd ; Untamed, untaught, in arts and arms unskill'd, Their patrimonial soil they rudely till'd, Chased the free rovers of the savage wood ; Insnarcd the wild-bird, swept the scaly flood, SheltcrM in lowly huts their fragile forms From burning suns and desolating storms ;
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