Thou sacred Spirit! which inspir'dst of yore
On Dalecarlia's rugged hills the soul
Of mighty Vasa, when in base controul
The free-born Swede was sunk, and Denmark's shore
Sent her dark tyrant forth to shed his gore;
Again arise! and, from the frozen pole
Advancing, fix not there fair Freedom's goal;
Thee France, Brabant, Geneva, now implore.
O burst their chains: and let mankind behold
To Europe's farthest bounds thy banners spread;
That kings may know, that, spite of pow'r or gold,
They govern but to bless; and nations, led
By Britain's high example, uncontroul'd
May dare to live, and scorn all slavish dread.