When hostile elements with rage
And fury blindly fans wars lurid flame,-
When in the strife of party quarrel drowned,
The voice of justice no regard can claim,-
When crime is free, and impious hands are found
The sacred to pollute, devoid of shame,
And loose the anchor which the state maintains,-
No subject there we find for joyous strains.
But when a nation, that its flocks
With calm content, nor others wealth desires
Throws off the cruel yoke neath which it bleeds,
Yet, een in wrath, humanity admires,-
And, een in triumph, moderation heeds,-
That is immortal, and our song requires.
To show thee such an image now is mine;
Thou knowest it well, for all thats great is thine!