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Through its wide circuit, that, in deep repose,
And even to sadness, lonely and serene,
Lay hushed; till-through a portal in the sky
Brighter than brightest loop-hole, in a storm,
Opening before the sun's triumphant eye,
Issued, to sudden view, a glorious Form!
Earthward it glided with a swift descent;
Saint George himself this Visitant must be;
And, ere a thought could ask on what intent
He sought the regions of humanity,

A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
City and field and flood; aloud it cried:


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Though from my celestial home,
Like a Champion, armed I come,
On my helm the dragon crest,
And the red cross on my breast,
I, the Guardian of this Land,
Speak not now of toilsome duty;
Well obeyed was that command,-


Whence bright days of festive beauty;

Haste, Virgins, haste! - the flowers which sum

mer gave

Have perished in the field;

But the green thickets plenteously shall yield

Fit garlands for the brave,

That will be welcome, if by you entwined;
Haste, Virgins, haste! and you, ye Matrons grave,
Go forth with rival usefulness of mind,

And gather what ye find

Of hardy laurel and wild holly boughs,
To deck your stern Defenders' modest brows!
Such simple gifts prepare,

Though they have gained a worthier meed;
And in due time shall share

Those palms and amaranthine wreaths
Unto their martyred Countrymen decreed,
In realms where everlasting freshness breathes!"


And lo! with crimson banners proudly streaming, And upright weapons innocently gleaming, Along the surface of a spacious plain

Advance in order the redoubted Bands,

And there receive green chaplets from the hands

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Maids and Matrons, dight

In robes of dazzling white;

While from the crowd bursts forth a rapturous noise,

By the cloud-capt hills retorted;

And a throng of rosy boys

In loose fashion tell their joys;

And gray-haired sires, on staffs supported,

Look round, and by their smiling seem to say,
Thus strives a grateful Country to display
The mighty debt which nothing can repay.

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And exquisite, that sleep alone bestows

Ability like splendor to endure:

Entered, with streaming thousands, through the


I saw the banquet spread beneath a Dome of state, A lofty Dome, that dared to emulate

The heaven of sable night

With starry lustre ; yet had power to throw
Solemn effulgence, clear as solar light,

Upon a princely company below,

While the vault rang with choral harmony,

Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath the roar

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ing sea.

No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge Of exultation hung a dirge

Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,

That kindled recollections

Of agonized affections;

And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended


peace of spirit, and sublime content!


But garlands wither; festal shows depart, Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sound (Albeit of effect profound)

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Victorious England! bid the silent Art

Reflect, in glowing hues that shall not fade,

Those high achievements; even as she arrayed

With second life the deed of Marathon
Upon Athenian walls;

So may she labor for thy civic halls:

And be the guardian spaces

Of consecrated places

As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil;
And let imperishable Columns rise,

Fixed in the depths of this courageous soil;
Expressive signals of a glorious strife,
And competent to shed a spark divine
Into the torpid breast of daily life;
Records on which, for pleasure of all eyes,
The morning sun may shine

With gratulation thoroughly benign !


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And ye, Pierian Sisters, sprung from Jove And sage Mnemosyne, full long debarred From your first mansions, exiled all too long From many a hallowed stream and grove, Dear native regions where ye wont to rove, Chanting for patient heroes the reward

Of never-dying song!

Now (for, though Truth descending from above
The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye
Your kindred Deities, ye live and move,
Spared for obeisance from perpetual love
For privilege redeemed of godlike sway)
Now, on the margin of some spotless fountain,
Dr top serene of unmolested mountain,

Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres,
And for a moment meet the soul's desires!
That I, or some more favored Bard, may hear
What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung
Of Britain's acts, - may catch it with rapt ear,
And give the treasure to our British tongue!
So shall the characters of that proud page
Support their mighty theme from age to age;
And, in the desert places of the earth,
When they to future empires have given birth,
So shall the people gather and believe

The bold report, transferred to every clime;
And the whole world, not envious, but admiring
And to the like aspiring,

Own, that the progeny of this fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled,
A corresponding virtue to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time,-
That not in vain they labored to secure,
For their great deeds, perpetual memory,
And fame as largely spread as land and sea,
By Works of spirit high and passion pure:

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