Anna Laetitia Barbauld - On the Expected General Rising of The French Nation, In 1792. lyrics

Rise, mighty nation, in thy strength, And deal thy dreadful vengeance round; Let thy great spirit, roused at length, Strike hordes of despots to the ground! Devoted land! thy mangled breast Eager the royal vultures tear; By friends betrayed, by foes opprest,— And Virtue struggles with Despair. The tocsin sounds! arise, arise! Stern o'er each breast let Country reign; Nor virgin's plighted hand nor sighs Must now the ardent youth detain: Nor must the hind who tills thy soil The ripened vintage stay to press, Till Rapture crown the flowing bowl, And Freedom boast of full success. Briareus-like extend thy hands, That every hand may crush a foe; In millions pour thy generous bands, And end a warfare by a blow! Then wash with sad repentant tears Each deed that clouds thy glory's page; Each phrensied start impelled by fears, Each transient burst of headlong rage: Then fold in thy relenting arms Thy wretched outcasts where they roam; From pining want and war's alarms, O call the child of misery home! Then build the tomb—O not alone Of him who bled in Freedom's cause; With equal eye the martyr own Of faith revered and ancient laws. Then be thy tide of glory staid; Then be thy conquering banners furled; Obey the laws thyself hast made, And rise the model of the world!