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And temper with the sternness of the brain
grow on; and her rights are these.
Look now on that adventurer who hath paid
• Written at Calais, August 15th, 1802
Internal darkness and unquiet breath;
THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN
REPUBLIC. ONCE did she hold the gorgeous East in fee; And was the safeguard of the West : the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest child of Liberty. She was a maiden city, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And when she took unto herself a mate, She must espouse the everlasting sea ! And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day : Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
THE KING OF SWEDEN. The voice of song from distant lands shall call To that great king; shall hail the crowned youth Who, taking counsel of unbending truth, By one example hath set forth to all How they with dignity may stand; or fall ; If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend? And what to him and his shall be the end? That thought is one which neither can appall Nor cheer him: for the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be : he stands above
All consequences; work he hath begun
Call not the royal Swede unfortunate,
TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men ! Whether the whistling rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dụngeon's earless den ; O miserable chiestain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not! do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee, air, earth, and skies: There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
EXPULSION OF NEGROES FROM FRANCE,
DOVER, ON THE DAY OF LANDING. HERE, on our native soil we breathe once more. The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound Of bells,—those boys who in yon meadow-ground In white-sleeved shirts are playing, -and the roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore, All, all are English. Oft have I looked round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment, Thou art free, My country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear companion at my side,
Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood;
while sea was calm and air was clear, The coast of France, the coast of France how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood. I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood Was like a lake, or river bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there! What mightiness for evil and for good! Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll, Strength to the brave, and power, and deity, Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul Only the nations shall be great and free!
THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND.