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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529238" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Pleasures of Hope (excerpt)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PART I (excerpt)<br>...<br> Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mountains roam,<br> Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home;<br> Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,<br> From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines,<br> Truth shall pervade the unfathomed darkness there,<br> And light the dreadful features of despair.<br> Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load,<br> And asks the image back that Heaven bestowed.<br> Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns,<br> And, as the slave departs, the man returns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile,<br> And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,<br> When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars<br> Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars,<br> Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,<br> Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn;<br> Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,<br> Presaging wrath to Poland--and to man!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed<br> Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid;<br> &quot;Oh! Heaven!&quot; he cried, &quot;my bleeding country save!<br> Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?<br> Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,<br> Rise, fellow men! our country yet remains!<br> By that dread name we wave the sword on high,<br> And swear for her to live!--with her to die!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed<br> His trusty warriors, few but undismayed;<br> Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,<br> Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;<br> Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,<br> Revenge, or death,--the watch-word and reply;<br> Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,<br> And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!<br> From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew;<br> Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time,<br> Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;<br> Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,<br> Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!<br> Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,<br> Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career,--<br> Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,<br> And Freedom shrieked--as Kosciusko fell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there.<br> Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air;<br> On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,<br> His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;<br> The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way;<br> Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay!<br> Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,<br> A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!<br> Earth shook; red meteors flashed along the sky,<br> And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Oh! righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave,<br> Why slept the sword omnipotent to save?<br> Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,<br> That smote the foes of Zion and of God,<br> That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron car<br> Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from afar?<br> Where was the storm that slumbered till the host<br> Of blood-stained Pharaoh left their trembling coast,<br> Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,<br> And heaved an ocean on their march below?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Campbell">Thomas Campbell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529238" data-title="The Pleasures of Hope (excerpt) de Thomas Campbell" data-description="PART I (excerpt)
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 Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mountains roam,
 Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home;
 Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,
 From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines,
 Truth shall pervade the unfathomed d..."></div>
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