Lo! Truth and Virtue range their radiant bands;
375 Sad Superstition wails her empire torn,
Art plies his oar, and Commerce pours her horn.

"Long had the Giant-form on GALLIA'S plains
Inglorious slept, unconscious of his chains;
Round his large limbs were wound a thousand strings
380 By the weak hands of Confessors and Kings;
O'er his closed eyes a triple veil was bound,
And steely rivets lock'd him to the ground;
While stern Bastile with iron cage inthralls
His folded limbs, and hems in marble walls.
385 --Touch'd by the patriot-flame, he rent amazed
The flimsy bonds, and round and round him gazed;
Starts up from earth, above the admiring throng
Lifts his Colossal form, and towers along;
High o'er his foes his hundred arms He rears,
390 Plowshares his swords, and pruning hooks his spears;
Calls to the Good and Brave with voice, that rolls
Like Heaven's own thunder round the echoing poles;
Gives to the winds his banner broad unfurl'd,
And gathers in its shade the living world!


[_While stern Bastile_. l. 383. "We descended with great difficulty into
the dungeons, which were made too low for our standing upright; and were
so dark, that we were obliged at noon-day to visit them by the light of
a candle. We saw the hooks of those chains, by which the prisoners were
fastened by their necks to the walls of their cells; many of which being
below the level of the water were in a constant state of humidity; from