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Ho pass'd the sacred Haram's silent tower,

It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard And underneath the wide o'erarching gate

Ill suits the passions which belong to youth; Survey'd the dwelling of this chief of power,

Love conquers age-so Hafiz hath averr’d, Where all around proclaim'd his high estate.

So sings the Teian, and he sings in soothAmidst no common pomp the despot sate,

But crimes that scorn the tender voice of Ruth, While busy preparation shook the court,

Beseeming all men ill, but most the man Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons wait; In years, have mark'd him with a tiger's tooth; Within, a palace, and without, a fort:

Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal sjan, flere men of every clime appear to make resort. In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began.

LXIV. Richly caparison'd, a ready row

'Mid many things most new to ear and eye Of armed horse, and many a warlike store,

The pilgrim rested here his weary feet, Circled the wide extending court below;

And gazed around on Moslem luxury, Above, strange groups adorn'd the corridor ;

Till quickly wearied with that spacious seat And oft-times through the area's echoing door of Wealth and Wantonness, the choice retreat Some high-capp'd Tartar spurr'd his steed away: Of sated Grandeur from the city's noise: The Turk, the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor, And were it humbler it in sooth were sweet; Here mingled in their many-hued array,

But Peace abhorreth artificial joys, While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close And Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of hostb of day.

destroys. LVIII.

LXY. The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,

Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,

Not virtues, were those virtues more mature. And gold-embroider'd garments, fair to see;

Where is the foe that ever saw their back? The crimson-scarfed men of Macedon;

Who can so well the toil of war endure?
The Delhi with his cap of terror on,

Their native fastnesses not more secure
And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek; Than they in doubtful time of troublous need:
And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son;

Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure, The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak, When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed, Master of all around, too potent to be meek,

Unshaken rushing on where'er their chief may lead.

LXVI. Are mix'd conspicuous: some recline in groups Childe Harold saw them in their chieftain's tower Scanning the motley scene that varies round;

Thronging to war in splendour and success; There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops, And after view'd them when, within their power, And some that smoke, and some that play, are found; Himself awhile the victim of distress; Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground; That saddening hour when bad men hotlior press: Hall whispering there the Greek is heard to prate; But these did shelter hım beneath their roof Hark! from the mosque the nightly solemn sound, When less barbarians would have cheer'd him less The Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,

And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof_69 "There is no god but God !—10 prayer-lo! God is great!" In aught that tries the heart how few withstand the prouf!

LXVII. Just at this season' Ramazani's fast

It chanced that adverse winds once drove his bark Through the long day its penance did maintain: Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore, But when the lingering twilight hour was past, When all around was desolate and dark; Revel and feast assumed the rule again:

To land was perilous, to sojourn more; Now all was bustle, and the menial train

Yet for a while the mariners forbore, Prepared and spread the plenteous board within ; Dubious to trust where treachery might lurk. The vacant gallery now seem'd made in vain, At length they ventured forth, though doubting sore

But from the chambers came the mingling din, That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk As page and slave anon were passing out and in. Might once again renew their ancient butcher-work.

LXVIII. Here woman's voice is never heard: apart,

Vain fear! the Suliotes stretch'd the welcome hand, And scarce permitted, guarded, veild, to move, Led them o'er rocks and past the dangerous swamp, She yields to one her person and her heart,

Kinder than polish'd slaves though not so bland, Tamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove;

And piled the hearth, and wrung their garments damp For, not unhappy in her master's love,

And fill'd the bowl, and trimm'd the cheerful lamp, And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares,

And spread their fare ; though homely, all they had: Blest cares! all other feelings far above!

Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stampa Herself more swectly rears the babe she bears, To rest the weary and to sooth the sad, Who never quits the breast, no meaner passion shares. Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the banda LXII.

LxIx. In marbled-paved pavilion, where a spring

It came to pass, that when he did address or living water from the centre rose,

Himself to quit at length this mountain-land, Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,

Combined marauders half-way barr'd egrens, And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose, And wasted far and near with glaive and brand; Ali reclined, a man of war and woes;

And therefore did he take a trusty band Yet in lus lineaments ye cannot trace,

To traverse Acarnania's forest wide, While Gentleness her milder radiance throws

In war well season'd, and with labours tiun'd. A long that aged venerable face,

Till he did greet white Achelous tide, l'he deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace. And from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied.

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7. Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,

I love the fair face of the maid in hor youth, And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,

Her caresses shall lull me, her music shail sooth; How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove, Let her bring from the chamber her many-unod lyre Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast, And sing us a song on the fall of her sire. As winds come lightly whispering from the west,

8. Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene :Here Harold was received a welcome guest;

Remember the moment when Previsa fell, as Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,

The shrieks of the conquerd, the conquerors' yell, For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean. The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared,

The wealthy we slaughter'd, the lovely we spared.

9. On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed, I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear; The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, 2*

Ho neither must know who would serve the Vizier: And he that unawares had there ygazed

Since the days of our prophet the Crescent ne'er saw With gaping wonderment had stared aghast;

A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.
For ere night's midmos, stillest hour was past,
The native revels of the troop began;

10. Each Palikar 29 his sabre from him cast,

Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped, And bounding hand in hand, man link'd to man, Let the yellow-haird* Giaourst view his horse-tail: Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled with dread; clan.

When his Delhiss come dashing in blood o'er the banks,

How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks! Childe Harold at a little distance stood

11. And view'd, but not displeased, the revelrie, Seliclar! || unsheathe then our chief's scimitar: Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude:

Tambourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of war. In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see

Ye mountains, that see us descend to the shore, Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee; Shall view us as victors, or view us no more! And, as the flames along their faces gleam'd,

LXXIII. Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free,

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth ! » The long wild locks that to their girdles stream'd, While thus in concert they this lay half sang half Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great! scream'd:30

Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth

And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? 1.

Not such thy sons who whilome did await,

The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, JI TAMBOUROI! Tambourgi!* thy 'larum afar

In bleak Thermopylæ's sepulchral straitGives hope to the valiant, and promise of war;

Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume, All the sons of the mountains arise at the note, Leap from Eurolas' banks, and call thee from the tomb ? Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote! 2.

Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle's brow 34 Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,

Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,

Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now In his snowy camese and his shaggy capote ? To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,

Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain ?

Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain, And descends to the plain like the stream from the rock.

But every carle can.lord it o'er thy land; 3.

Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,

Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand, Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive

From birth till death enslaved; in worl, in deed, unınann'd The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live?

Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego?
What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?

In all save form alone, how changed! and who

That marks the fire still sparkling in each eve, 4.

Who but would deem their bosoms burn'd anew Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;

With thy unquenched beam, lost Liberty! For a time they abandon the cave and the chase :

And many dream withal the hour is nigh But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before

That gives them back their fathers' heritage : 'The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.

For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,

Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, 5.

Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page. Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves, And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,

Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,

Who would be free themselves must strike the biuw? Ind track to his covert the captive on shore.

By their right arms the conquest must be wrought ?

Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no! 6.

True, they may lay your proud despoilers low,

But not for you will Freedom's allars flame. I ask not the pleasures that riches supply,

Shades of the Helots! triunph o'er your live! My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy ;

Greece! change thy lords, thy state is stiil the same; Ehall win the young bride with her long flowing hair, Ani many a maid from her mother shall tear.

Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thy years of shaine,



• Drummor.

• Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians.

Hanke-tails are the insignia of a Pacha,
liorsemen, answering to o'r forloru hone.

1 Swalbes.rer.


LXXXIV. The city won for Allah from the Giaour,

When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood, The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest; When Thebes Epaminondas rears again, And the Serai's impenetrable tower

When Athens' children are with hearts endued, Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest; 56 When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men, Or Wahab's rebel brood who dared divest

T'hen may'st thou be restored; but not till then. The 36 prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil,

A thousand years scarce serve to form a state; May wind their path of blood along the West; An hour may lay it in the dust: and when But ne'er will freedom seek this fated soil,

Can man its shatter'd splendour renovate, But slave sucured to slave through years of endless toil. Recal its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Falor

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Yet mark their mirth-ere lenten days begin

And yet how lovely in thine age of wo,
That penance which their holy rites prepare

Land of lost gods and godlike men! art thou!
To shrive from man his weight of mortal sin, Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow,
By daily abstinence and nightly prayer;

Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now,
But ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear,

Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow, Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all,

Commingling slowly with heroic earth, To take of pleasaunce each his secret share

Broke by the share of every rustic plough: .
In motley robe to dance at masking ball,

So perish monuments of mortal birth,
And join the mimic train of merry Carnival. So perish all in turn, save well-recorded World

And whose more rife with merriment than thine, Save where some solitary column mourns
Oh Stamboul! once the empress of their reign? Above its prostrate brethren of the cave ;**
Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine,

Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns
And Greece her very altars eyes in vain:

Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; (Alas! her woes will still pervade my strain!)

Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave,
Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng, Where the gray stones and unmolested grass
All felt the common joy they now must feign, Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave,

Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song, While strangers only not regardless pass,
As woo'd the eye, and thrilled the Bosphorus along. J ingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh" Alas.'

Loud was the lightsome tumult of the shore, Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;
Oft Music changed, but never ceased her tone, Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
And timely echo'd back the measured oar,

Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And rippling waters made a pleasant moan:

And still his honied wealth Hymettus yields ;
The Queen of tides on high consenting shone, There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builde,
And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave, The freeborn wanderer of thy mountain-air ;
'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne, Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
A brighter glance her form reflected gave,

Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare;
Till sparkling billows seem'd to light the banks they lave. Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.

Glanced many a light caique along the foam, Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;
Danced on the shore the daughters of the land, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,
Ne thought had man or maid of rest or home, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around,
While many a languid eye and thrilling hand

And all the Muse's tales seem truly told,
Exchanged the look few bosoms may withstand, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
Or gently prest, returnd the pressure still :

The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band, Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Lei sage or cyric prattle as he will,

Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gune: These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill! Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon

LXXXIX, But, midst the throng in merry masquerade,

The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same, Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain, Unchanged in all except its foreign lordEven through the closest searment half betray'd ? Preserves alike its bounds and boundless famo To such the gentle murmurs of the main

The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde Seem to re-echo all they mourn in vain ;

First bow'd beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword, To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd As on the morn to distant Glory dear, Is source of wayward thought and stern disdain: When Marathon became a magic word; 19 How do they loathe the laughter idly loud,

Which utter'd, to the bearer's eye appear And long to ciange the robe of revel for the shroud! The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's caroor. LXXXIII.

XC. This must he fcel, the true-born son of Greece, The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; If Greece one true-born patriot still can boast; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; Not such as prate of war, but skulk in peace, Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below, The bondsman's peace, who sighs for all he lost, Death in the front, Destruction in the rear! Yet with smooth smile his tyrant can accost,

Such was the scene-what now remaineth here? And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword:

What sac“ed trophy marks the hallow'd ground, Ah! Greece! they love thee least who owe thee most; Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear?

Their birth, their hlood, and that sublime record The rifled urn, the violated mound,
Of hero sires, who shame thy now degenerate horde ! The dust thy courser's hoof, rude strunger! spurns around.




XCVIII. Yo: to the remnants of thy splendour past

What is the worst of woes that wait on ago ? Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied throng; What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? Long shall the voyager, with th' lonian blast, To view each loved one blotted from life's paga Hail the bright clime of battle and of song;

And be alone on earth, as I am now. Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue

Before the Chastener humbly let me bow Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore;

O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd: Boast of the aged! lesson of the young!

Roll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow, Which sages venerate and bards adore,

Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore. And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy'd.

The parted bosom clings to wonted home,
If aught that's kindi ed cheer the welcome hearth;

He that is lonely hither let him roam,
And gaze complacent on congenial earth.
Greece is no lightsome land of social mirth

." Afin que cette application vous forçki de penser à autre chose ; ) But he whom Sadness sootheth may abide,

a'y a en vérite de reméde que celui-là et le temps."

Lettre du Roi de Pruuse d D'Alemberi, Sept. 7 1776. And scarce regret the region of his birth,

When wandering slow by Delphi's sacred side,
Dr gazing o'er the plains where Greek and Persian died.

Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child !
Let such approach this consecrated land,

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?

When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled And pass in peace along the magic waste:

And then we parted,

-not as now we party But spare its relics—let no busy hand

But with a hope. Deface the scenes, already how defaced!

Awaking with a start, Not for such purpose were these altars placed :

The waters heave around me; and on high Revere the remnants nations once revered:

The winds lift up their voices: I depart, S2 may our country's name be undisgraced, So may'st thou prosper where thy youth was rear'd, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad

Whither [ know not; but the hour's gone by, By every honest joy of love and life endear'd!



mine eye.

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For thee, who thus in too protracted song

Once more upon the waters! yet once more ! Hast soothed thine idlesse with inglorious lays,

And the waves bound beneath me as a steed Soon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng

That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar! Of louder minstrels in these later days:

Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead! To such resign the strife for fading bays

Though the straind mast should quiver as a reed, Ill may such contest now the spirit move

And the rent canvass fluttering strew the gale,
Which heeds nor keen reproach nor partial praise ; Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Since cold each kinder heart that might approve,

Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
And none are left to please when none are left to love. Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breach

prevail. Tovu too art gone, thou loved and lovely one!

In my vouth's summer I did sing of One, Whom youth and youth's affections bound to me;

The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind; Who did for me what none beside have done,

Again I seize the theme then but begun Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.

And bear it with me, as the rushing wind What is my being? thou hast ceased to be!

Bears the cloud onwards : in that Tale I find Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home, The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see

Which, ebbing, leave a steril track behind, Would they had never been, or were to come!

O'er which all heavily the journeying years Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh cause to roam! Plod the last sands of life,—where not a flower appears

xcvI. Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved!

Since my young days of passion-joy, or pain, How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,

Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string And clings to thoughts now better far removed! And both may jar: it may be, that in vain But Time shall tear thy shadow from me last. I would essay as I have sung to sing. AU thou couldst have of mine, stern Death! thou hast; Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling, The parent, friend, and now the more than friend: So that it ween me from the weary dream Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,

Of selfish grief or gladness-so it fling And grief with grief continuing still to blend,

Forgetfulness around me—it shall seem Hath snatch'd the little joy that life had yet to lend. To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful thema.




Then must I plunge again into the crowd,
And follow all that Peace disdains to seek ?
Where Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud,
False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,
To leave the flagging spirii doubly weak;
Still o'er the features, which perforce they cheer,
To feign the pleasure or conceal the pique :

Smiles form the channel of a future tear,
or raise the writhing lip with il-dissembled sneer.

He, who grown aged in this world of wo,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him; nor below
Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife,
Cut to his heart again with the keen knife
Of silent, sharp endurance: he can tell
Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife

With airy images, and shapes which dwell
Still unimvair'd, though old, in the soul's haunted coll


VI. 'Tis to create, and in creating live

Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends; A being more intense, that we endow

Where rollid the ocean, thereon was his home ; With form our fancy, gaining as we give

Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends, The life we image, even as I do now.

He had the passion and the power to roam; What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,

The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam, Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth, Were unto him companionship; they spake Invisible but gazing, as I glow

A mutual language, clearer than the tome Mir'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth,

Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake And feeling sull wiih hee in my crush'd feelings' dearth. For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lako.

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Something too much of this :—but now 'tis past, But in Man's dwellings he became a thing
And the spell closes with its silent seal.

Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome,
Long absent HAROLD reappears at last ;

Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing, He of the breast which fain no more would feel, To whom the boundless air alone were home: Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er heal; Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome, Yet Time, who changes all, had alter'd him

As eagerly the barr’d-up bird will beat In soul and aspect as in age : years steal

His breast and beak against his wiry dome Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb;

Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat.

XVI. His had been quaff’d too quickly, and he found Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again, The dregs were wormwood; but he filld again, With nought of hope left, but with less of gloom; And from a purer fount, on holier ground,

The very knowledge that he lived in vain, And deem'd its spring perpetual; but in vain! That all was over on this side the tomb, Still round him clung invisibly a chain

Had made Despair a smilingness assume, Which galld for ever fettering though unseen, Which, though 'twere wild, -as on the plunder'd wreck And heavy though it clank'd not; worn with pain, When mariners would madly meet their doom

Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen, With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,Entering with every step he took through many a scene. Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check.

XVII. Secure in guarded coldness, he had mixd


-For thy tread is on an Empire s dust! Again in fancied safety with his kind,

An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below! And deem'd his spirit now so firmly fix'd

Is the spot mark'd with no colossal bust ? And sheath'd with an invulnerable mind,

Nor column trophied for triumphal show? That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind;

None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, And he, as one, might midst the many stand

As the ground was before, thus let it be ;Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! Fit speculation; such as in strange land

And is this all the world has gain'd by thee, He found in wonder-works of God and Nature's hand. Thou first and last of fields! king-making Victory?




But who can view the ripen'd rose, nor seek

And Harold stands upon this place of skulis, To wear it? who can curiously behold

The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo;
The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek, How in an hour the power which gave annuis
Nor feel the heart can never all


Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too!
Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold In “pride of place”d here last the eagle flew,
The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb ? Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain,
Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd

Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through; un with the giddy circle, chasing Time,

Ambition's life and labours all were vain; Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime. He wears the shatter'd links of the world's broken chain XII.

XIX. Bit soon he knew himself the most unfit

Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit
O men to herd with Man; with whom he heid And foam in fetters ;- but is Earth more free?
Little in common ; untaught to submit

Did nations combat to make One submit;
His thoughts 10 others, though his soul was quell'd Or league to teach all kings true sovereignty?
In youth by his own thoughis; still uncompeird, What! shall reviving Thraldom again be
He would not yield dominion of his mind

The patch'd-up idol of enlightend days?
To spirits against whom his own rebellid;

Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we Proud though in desolation; which could find Pay the Wolf homage ? proffering lowly gaze a kife within itself

, to breathe without mankind. | And servile knees to thrones ? No; prove before re uraisol

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