Classic Poem

Just Guardian of man's social bliss! for thee
The paths of danger gladly would I tread:
For thee! contented, join the glorious dead,
Who nobly scorn'd a life that was not free!

But worse than death it pains my soul, to see
The Lord of Ruin, by wild Uproar led,
Hell's first-born, Anarchy , exalt his head,
And seize thy throne, and bid us bow the knee!

What though his iron sceptre, blood-imbrued,
Crush half the nations with resistless might;
Never shall this firm spirit be subdued:
In chains, in exile, still the chanted rite,
O L IBERTY ! to thee shall be renew'd:
O still be sea-girt A LBION thy delight!