While rich Potosi[B] rolls the copious tide
Of wealth, unbounded as the wish of pride;
His pure, unsullied soul with high disdain
For virtue spurns the fascinating bane;
Her seraph form can still his breast allure 285
Tho’ drest in weeds, she triumph’d to be poor—
Hopeless ambition’s murders to restrain,
And virtue’s wrongs, he sought Iberia’s plain,
Without one mean reserve he nobly brings
A massive treasure, yet unknown to kings: 290
No purple pomp around his dome was spread
No gilded roofs hung glitt’ring o’er his head;
Yet peace with milder radiance deck’d his bower,
And crown’d with dearer joy life’s evening hour;
While virtue whisper’d to his conscious heart 295
The sweet reflexion of its high desert.
Ah, meek Peruvia, still thy murmur’d sighs
Thy stifled groans in fancy’s ear arise;
Sadd’ning she views thy desolated soul,
As slow the circling years of bondage roll,
300
Redeem from tyranny’s oppressive power
With fond affection’s force, one sacred hour;
And consecrate its fleeting, precious space,
The dear remembrance of the past to trace.
Call from her bed of dust joy’s buried shade;
305
She smiles in mem’ry’s lucid robes array’d,
O’er thy creative scene[C] majestic moves,
And wakes each mild delight thy fancy loves.
But soon the image of thy wrongs in clouds
The fair and transient ray of pleasure shrouds;
310
Far other visions melt thy mournful eye,
And wake the gushing tear, th’ indignant sigh;
There Ataliba’s sacred, murder’d form,
Sinks in the billow of oppression’s storm;
Wild o’er the scene of death thy glances roll,
315
And pangs tumultuous swell thy troubled soul;
Thy bosom burns, distraction spreads her flames,
And from the tyrant foe her victim claims.
But, lo! where bursting desolation’s night,
A sudden ray of glory cheers my sight;
320
From my fond eye the tear of rapture flows,
My heart with pure delight exulting glows:
A blooming chief of India’s royal race,
Whose soaring soul, its high descent can trace,
The flag of freedom rears on Chili’s[D] plain,
325
And leads to glorious strife his gen’rous train:
And see Iberia bleeds! while vict’ry twines
Her fairest blossoms round Peruvia’s shrines;
The gaping wounds of earth disclose no more
The lucid silver, and the glowing ore;
330
A brighter glory gilds the passing hour,
While freedom breaks the rod of lawless power:
Lo on the Andes’ icy steep she glows,
And prints with rapid step th’ eternal snows;
Or moves majestic o’er the desert plain,
335