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Oppression ! mighty foe of human kind ! 

 Thy cruel deeds to darkness are confin'd : 

 No sun-beams play around thy gloomy form, 

 No council wise averts the gathering storm : 

 Thy giant arms extend a lengthen' d chain, 

 And captive nations feel its rankling pain : 

 Before thy lurid glare their courage dies, 

 And Hope expiring seeks her native skies : 

 Thy breath destroys the fairest fruits on earth, 

 And Nature's tears bewail thy direful birth. 

 Thy stature grew to more than mortal height, 

 And seem'd to blot the radiant source of light; 

 For where thou dwell' st is still a dreadful night. 

 But when the day-star from on high appears, 

 Thy reign shall vanish, and thy victims' fears; 

 Thy adamantine chains shall waste away, 

 And Liberty restore her cloudless day. 



Ye bhauts ! the oral bards of Indian climes, 

 Like Europe's minstrels in the feudal time, 

 'Tis yours to praise the chieftain's mighty deed, 

 And give the hero glory's deathless meed ; 

 'Tis yours to raise, or melt, the human heart, 

 By all the fervours of the tuneful art ; 

 'Tis yours to fill the void of History's page, 

 And thus immortalize the passing age : 

 'Tis yours to blow the golden trump of fame, 

 And twine the laurel round each honour'd name. 



Ah ! when you chant the legendary tale. 

 In crowded cities, or the rural vale, 

 How will you mourn fair Freedom's transient reign ! 

 Whilst list'ning tribes lament the dirgeful strain'! 

 Lament her blessings wither'd in their bloom, 

 And nations suffering in her hasty doom ! 

 When you relate, with strict historic truth, 

 These changing scenes, familiar to your youth. 



