Is there a Power that can sustain and cheer
The captive Chieftain, by a Tyrant's doom
Forced to descend alive into his tomb,
A dungeon dark!--where he must waste the year,
And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear;
What time his injured Country is a stage
Whereon deliberate Valour and the Rage
Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear,--
Filling from morn to night the heroic scene
With deeds of hope and everlasting praise:
Say can he think of this with mind serene
And silent fetters?--Yes, if visions bright
Shine on his soul, reflected from the days
When he himself was tried in open light.