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Now lost in the storm-driven vapours, that fly Like hosts that are routed across the broad sky, Like a pure spirit, true to its virtue and faith, . 'Mid the tempests of nature, of passion, and death!

Rise! beautiful emblem of purity, rise, On the sweet winds of Heaven, to thine own

brilliant skies ; Still higher! still higher! till, lost to our sight, Thou hidest thy wings in a mantle of light; And I think how a pure spirit gazing on thee, Must long for that moment—the joyous and freeWhen the soul, disembodied from Nature, shal.

spring, Unfettered, at once to her Maker and King ; When the bright day of service and suffering past, Shapes, fairer than thine, shall shine round her

at last, While, the standard of battle triumphantly furled, She smiles like a victor, serene on the world!

GERALD GRIFFIN.

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