When O'Er The Atlantic Wild, Rocked By The Blast, Sad Lusitania'S Exiled Sovereign Passed, Reft Of Her Pomp, From Her Paternal Throne Cast Forth, And Wandering To A Clime Unknown, To Seek A Refuge On That Distant Shore, That Once Her Country'S Legions Dyed With Gore; Sudden, Methought, High Towering O'Er The Flood, Hesperian World! Thy Mighty Genius Stood; Where Spread, From Cape To Cape, From Bay To Bay, Serenely Blue, The Vast Pacific Lay; And The Huge Cordilleras To The Skies With All Their Burning Summits Seemed To Rise. Then The Stern Spirit Spoke, And To His Voice The Waves And Woods Replied: Mountains, Rejoice! Thou Solitary Sea, Whose Billows Sweep The Margin Of My Forests, Dark And Deep, Rejoice! The Hour Is Come: The Mortal Blow, That Smote The Golden Shrines Of Mexico, In Europe Is Avenged; And Thou, Proud Spain, Now Hostile Hosts Insult Thy Own Domain; Now Fate, Vindictive, Rolls, With Refluent Flood, Back On Thy Shores The Tide Of Human Blood, Think Of My Murdered Millions! Of The Cries That Once I Heard From All My Kingdoms Rise; Of Famine'S Feeble Plaint, Of Slavery'S Tear; Think, Too, If Valour, Freedom, Fame, Be Dear, How My Antarctic Sons, Undaunted, Stood, Exacting Groan For Groan, And Blood For Blood; And Shouted, (May The Sounds Be Hailed By Thee!) Tyrants, The Virtuous And The Brave Are Free!