And as its startling echo thrills
Along our everlasting hills,
Loud thundering on the gale,
Earth’s millions, in their manhood strong
Down on the embattled host of Wrong
Shall pour, as pours the gathered storm,
When broods the tempest-spirit’s form
In terror o’er the vale.
And fiercer than the down-right shock
When lightnings rend the splint’ring rock
The sword of Truth shall fall,
Till Error bow her impious head,
And howling o’er her myriads dead,
With shriek, and groan, and hideous yell,
Reel backward to her home in hell—
Beyond its burning wall.
