Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By On the Capture of Rome by the FrenchSt John Honeywood (1765–1798)
O
The proud oppressor’s long dominion ends:
Spirits of martyrs pure! if aught ye know,
In the bright realms of bliss, of things below,
Join the glad hymn of triumph, ye who stood
Firm for the faith, and seal’d it with your blood.
No more shall Rome disturb the world’s repose,
Quench’d is her torch, and blood no longer flows;
Crush’d is the fell destroyer in her turn,
And the freed world insults her hated urn.
O Truth divine! thou choicest gift of God!
Man’s guide and solace in this drear abode!
Plain was thy garb, and lovely was thy mien,
When usher’d by the spotless Nazarene:
From shouting crowds and pageantry he fled,
To the lone desert or the pauper’s shed;
There taught his humble followers to despise
All that the proud affect, or worldlings prize;
Truly he gave to man’s repentant race,
The peerless treasures of his sovereign grace;
Yet bade no fires descend, no thunders roll,
To force his bounty on the wayward soul.
Join then, celestial Truth, the glad acclaim;
Crush’d is the proud usurper of thy name;
Who first with blood thy snow-white robes distain’d,
And with vain pomp thy holy rites profaned.