Classic Poem

O when shall our brave land be free
when shall our castles rise
in pure & glorious liberty
before our joyful eyes

How long shall tyrants ride in state
upon the thundercloud
the arbiters of Englands fate
and of her nobles proud

Thou sun of liberty arise—
upon our beauteous land
terrible vengeance rend the skys
let tyrants feel thy hand

let tyrants feel thy hand we cry
& let them see thy gaze
for they will shrink beneath thy eye
& we will sing thy praise

the song of vengeance shall arise
before the morning sun
illuminates the arched skys
or its high course doth run

the song of vengeance shall not cease
when midnight cometh on
when the silver moon shines out in peace
to light the traveler lone