"You I shall miss! through every lengthening aisle
Your heavenly presence sacred made the pile;
The long perspective found an opening ray
Whene'er your image cross'd my wandering way,
Light sudden gleams of joy my breast would seize,
And the cold blood forget awhile to freeze.
But go, St Agnes, bear along with thee
The many a tale of cloister'd misery;
Bless that sage Council where fair Freedom dwells,
And bid her henceforth close these gloomy cells;
The smooth chicane of monkish wiles unfold,
And say what wretches half the convents hold;
Drag forth Delusion to their wondering sight,
And let them see their bless'd decree was right!
How soon shall Freedom cheer the drooping swain,
How soon shall Plenty spread along the plain,
How soon shall Labour make a sport of toil,
And Health blow round him as he tills the soil;
The grateful soil her freest gifts shall lend,
To prove herself bless'd Freedom's steady friend.
As o'er the earth she bends her flowery way,
The swains exult as at return of day;
The towering woods more towering seem to grow,
And free-born rivers freer seem to flow;
The barren rocks their little part will bear,
And tufts of grass grow, nourish'd here and there;
All Nature sees, and hails the hour with me,
That gives to man the Mountain-Liberty;
Dear Liberty! the source of heartfelt ease,
Which still must please whilst earthly good can please."