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Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Ye died amidst your dying country's cries

No more I weep; They do not sleep;

On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,

I see them sit; They linger yet,

Avengers of their native land:

With me in dreadful harmony they join,

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And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy

line.

II. 1. Strophe

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Weave the warp and weave the woof
The winding sheet of Edward's race:

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Give ample room and verge enough

The characters of hell to trace.

Mark the year, and mark the night,

When Severn shall re-echo with affright

The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roof that ring,

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Shrieks of an agonizing king!

She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs

That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate,

From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven! What terrors round him

wait!

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Amazement in his van, with flight combined,
And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.

II. 2. Antistrophe

666

Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

No pitying heart, no eye, afford

A tear to grace his obsequies.

Is the sable warrior fled?

Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born?

Gone to salute the rising morn.

Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm

In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;

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Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.

II. 3. Epode

""Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare ;

Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair

Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
A baleful smile upon their baffled guest,

Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
Long years of havock urge their destined course,
And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
And spare the meek usurper's holy head!
Above, below, the rose of snow,

Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
The bristled boar in infant-gore

Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

Now, brothers, bending o'er the accurséd loom,
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

III. 1. Strophe

""Edward, lo! to sudden fate

(Weave we the woof; The thread is spun ;) Half of thy heart we consecrate.

(The web is wove; The work is done.)'

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-Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
In yon bright track that fires the western skies
They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 105
Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!

No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail:

All hail, ye genuine kings! Britannia's issue, hail! 110 III. 2. Antistrophe

"Girt with many a baron bold

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old

In bearded majesty, appear.

In the midst a form divine !

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line:
Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What strings symphonious tremble in the air,

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What strains of vocal transport round her play? 120

Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;

They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.

Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings.

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Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?

To-morrow he repairs the golden flood

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me: with joy I see

The different doom our fates assign:

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Be thine despair and sceptred care,

To triumph and to die are mine."

- He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.

THE PROGRESS OF POESY

I. 1. Strophe

AWAKE, Aeolian lyre, awake,

And give to rapture all thy trembling strings.
From Helicon's harmonious springs

A thousand rills their mazy progress take;
The laughing flowers that round them blow
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Now the rich stream of music winds along

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Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,

Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign;

Now rolling down the steep amain

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Headlong, impetuous, see it pour:

The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar.

I. 2. Antistrophe

Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul,

Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares

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And frantic Passions hear thy soft control.
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War
Has curb'd the fury of his car

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The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.

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With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures,

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Frisking light in frolic measures;

Now pursuing, now retreating,

Now in circling troops they meet:

To brisk notes in cadence beating

Glance their many-twinkling feet.

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Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay:

With arms sublime that float upon the air

In gliding state she wins her easy way:

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O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.

II. 1. Strophe

Man's feeble race what ills await!

Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,

Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate! 45

The fond complaint, my song, disprove,

And justify the laws of Jove.

Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse?

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In climes beyond the solar road

Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, 55

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Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves.

Her track, where'er the goddess roves,

Glory pursue, and generous Shame,

Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 65

II. 3. Epode

Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,

Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep,

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