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My mind is my kingdom, but if thou wilt deign
A queen there to sway without measure ; Then come, o'er its wishes and homage to reign,
And make it an empire of pleasure. Then of thoughts and emotions each mutinous crowd,
That rebelled at stern reason and duty, Returning-shall yield all their loyalty proud
To the Halcyon dominion of beauty.
THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION.
OH! leave this barren spot to me,
shade Their vows of truth and rapture paid,
And on my trunk's surviving frame
On Linden, when the sun was low,
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
The darkness of her scenery.
To join the dreadful revelry.
Far flashed the red artillery. And redder yet those fires shall glow, On Linden's hills of blood stained snow, And darker yet shall be the flow
of Iser, rolling rapidly.
'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,
Shout mid their sulph’rous canopy.
And charge with all thy chivalry!
turf beneath their feet,
Ye Mariners of England!
II. The spirits of your
fathers Shall start from every wave!
For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean
III. Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow v; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy teinpests blow.
The meteor flag of England
and feast shall flow
O HEARD ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,
Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn: Why speak ye no word!”-said Glenara the stern. " And tell me, I charge you! ye clan of my spouse, Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your brows?" So spake the rude chieftain :-no answer is made, But each mantle unfolding a dagger displayed. “I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud," Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathsul and loud: “ And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem: Glenara! Genara ! now read me my dream!” 0! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen; When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn, 'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn: - I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief: On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem ; Glenara ! Glenara! now read me my dream !"