Chapter LXXXVII

And no portentous, fearful meteor, there,
Should blaze, and blacken, and create dismay,
Shaking fierce furies from its snaky hair;
No!--thou should'st light the Nations on their way,
And be to them a watchword to fight well;
And should they fall, as Poland's patriots fell.
Oh! cheer them with their exile-flag unfurl'd,
And give them freedom here, in her own Western world.

LXXXVIII.
Auspicious Time! unroll the scroll of years--
Behold our pious pilgrim fathers, when
They launch'd their little bark and braved all fears,
Those peril-seeking, freedom-loving men!
Bless thee, thou Stream! abiding blessings bless
Thy farthest wave--Nile of the wilderness!
And be thy broad lands peopled, far and wide,
With hearts as free as his who now doth bless thy tide.