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Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells

Echo to the bleat of flocks; (Those grassy hills, those glittering dells

Proudly ramparted with rocks) And OCEAN mid his

uproar wild Speaks saftety to his ISLAND-CHILD!

Hence for many a fearless age

Has social Quiet loved thy shore; Nor ever proud Invader's rage Or sacked thy towers, or stained thy fields with gore.

VIII. Abandoned of Heaven! mad Avarice thy guide, At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast

stood, And joined the wild yelling of Famine and Blood ! The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering

Shall hear DESTRUCTION, like a Vulture, scream!
Strange-eyed DESTRUCTION ! who with many a

dream
Of central fires through nether seas upthundering

Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies
By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,

If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,
O Albion! thy predestined ruins rise,

The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, Muttering distempered triumph in her charmed sleep.

IX.

Away, my soul, away!
In vain, in vain the Birds of warning sing-
And hark! I hear the famished brood of

prey Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind !

Away, my soul, away!
I unpartaking of the evil thing,

With daily prayer and daily toil

Soliciting for food my scanty soil,

Have wailed my country with a loud Lament. Now I recentre

my

immortal mind
In the deep sabbath of meek self-content;
Cleansed from the vaporous passions that bedim
God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.

FRANCE.

AN ODE.

I.
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and

pause, Whose pathless march no mortal may controul!

Ye Ocean-Waves ! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds' singing,

Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches swinging,

Have made a solemn music of the wind !
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod,

How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,

Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound ! O

ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high !

And O ye Clouds that far above me soared !
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!

Yea, every thing that is and will be free !
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adored

The spirit of divinest Liberty.

II.

When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,

And with that oath, which smote air, earth and sea,

Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free,
Bear witness for me, how I loped and feared !
With what a joy my lofty gratulation

Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band :
And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,

The Monarchs marched in evil day,

And Britain joined the dire array;
Though dear her shores and circling ocean,
Though many friendships, many youthful loves

Had swoln the patriot emotion
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves ;
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat

To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, And shame too long delayed and vain retreat!

For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame;

But blessed the pæans of delivered France,
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.

III.

And what,” I said, “ though Blasphemy's loud

scream

« With that sweet music of deliverance strove !

Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove " A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream! “ Ye storms, that round the dawning east assem

bled, “ The Sun was rising, though he hid his light!

And when, to sooth my soul, that hoped and trembled, The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;

When France her front deep-scar'd and gory
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory;

When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp;'

While timid looks of fury glancing,
Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;

Then I reproached my fears that would not flee; " And soon,” I said, “ shall Wisdom teach her lore “ In the low huts of them that toil and groan !

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