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Thy day without a cloud hath past,
And thou wert lovely to the last;

Extinguished, not decayed;.
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.

7.
As once I wept, if I could weep,

My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
. One vigil o'er thy bed ;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,

Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

8.

Yet how much less it were to gain,

Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,

Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity,

Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught, except its living years.

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BRIGHT be the place of thy soul !

No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal controul,

In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,

As thy soul shall inmortally be ; And our sorrow may cease to repine,

When we know that thy God is with thee.

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Light be the turf of thy tomb !

May its verdure like emeralds be : There should not be the shadow of gloom

In aught that reminds us of thee. Young flowers and an evergreen tree

May spring from the spot of thy rest : But not cypress nor yew let us see ;

For why should we mourn for the blest?

ODE.

Oh! shame to thee, Land of the Gaul!

Oh! shame to thy children and thee !
Unwise in thy glory, and base in thy fall,

How wretched thy portion shall be!
Derision shall strike thee forlorn,

A mockery that never shall die ;
The curses of Hate, and the hisses of Scorn

Shall burthen the winds of thy sky;
And, proud o'er thy ruin, for ever be hurl'd
The laughter of Triumph, the jeers of the World !

Oh ! where is thy spirit of yore,

The spirit that brcathed in thy dead, When gallantry's star was the beacon before, · And honour the passion that led ?

Thy storms have awaken'd their sleep,

They groan from the place of their rest, And wrathfully murmur, and sullenly weep,

To see the foul stain on thy breast; For where is the glory they left thee in trust ? 'Tis scatter'd in darkness, 'tis trampled in dust!

Go, look through the kingdoms of earth,

From Indus, all round to the Pole,
And something of goodness, of honour, and worth,

Shall brighten the sins of the soul :
But thou art alone in thy shame,

The world cannot liken thee there ;
Abhorrence and vice have disfigur’d thy name

Beyond the low reach of compare ; Stupendous in guilt, thou shalt lend us through time A proverb, a bye-word, for treach’ry aud crime !

While conquest illumin’d his sword,

While yet in his prowess he stood,
Thy praises still follow'd the steps of thy Lord,

And welcom'd the torrent of blood;
Tho' tyranny sat on his crown,

And wither'd the nations afar,
Yet bright in thy view was that Despot's renown,

Till Fortune deserted his car;
Then, back from the chieftain thou slunkest away
The foremost to insult, the first to betray!

Forgot were the feats he had done,

The toils he had borne in thy cause ; Thou turned'st to worship a new rising sun,

And waft other songs of applause ;
But the storm was beginning to lour,

Adversity clouded his beam;
And honour and faith were the brag of an hour,

And loyalty's self but a dream :-
To him thou hadst banish'd thy vows were restor’d;
And the first that had scoff?d, were the first that ador'd!

What tumult thus burthens the air ?

What throng thus encircles his throne ? 'Tis the shout of delight, 'tis the millions that swear

His sceptre shall rule them alone. Reverses shall brighten their zeal,

Misfortune shall hallow his name, And the world that pursues him shall mournfully feel

How quenchless the spirit and flame That Frenchmen will breathe, when their hearts are on fire, For the Hero they love, and the chief they admire!

Their hero has rushed to the field;

His laurels are cover'd with shade -
But where is the spirit that never should yield,

The loyalty never to fade !
In a moment desertion and guile

Abandon’d him up to the foe;
The dastards that flourish'd and grew in his smile,

Forsook and renounced him in woe;
And the millions that swore they would perish to save,
Beheld him a fugitive, captive, and slave !

The Savage all wild in his glen

Is nobler and better than thou;
Thou standest a wonder, a marvel to men,

Such perfidy blackens thy brow !
If thou wert the place of my birth,

At once from thy arms would I sever;
I'd fly to the uttermost parts of the earth,

And quit thee for ever and ever;
And thinking of thee in my long after-years,
Should but kindle my blushes and waken my tears.

Oh! shame to thee, Land of the Gaul !

Oh! shame to thy children and thee ! Unwise in thy glory and base in thy fall,

How wretched thy portion shall be !
Derision shall strike thee forlorn,

A mockery that never shall die;
The curses of Hate and the hisses of Scorn

Shall burthen the winds of thy sky;
And, proud o'er thy ruin, for ever be hurld
The laughter of Triumph, the jeers of the World !

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