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Souls of slain heroes form’d thy rays; Eternity flash'd through thy blaze; The music of thy martial sphere Was fame on high and honour here; And thy light broke on human eyes, Like a Volcano of the skies.
Like lava roll’d thy stream of blood,
Before thee rose, and with thee grew,
5. One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes; One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes;
One, the pure Spirit's veil of white
Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And Freedom hallows with her tread
OM THE FRENCH.]
1. Farewell to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name She abandons me now,-but the page of her story, The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame. I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only When the meteor of Conquest allured me too far; I have coped with the nations which dread me thus
lonely, The last single Captive to millions in war!
2. Farewell to thee, France !—when thy diadem crown'd
me, I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found
thee, Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted In strife with the storm, when their battles were won
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was
blasted, Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun !
Farewell to thee, France!—but when Liberty rallies
has bound us, Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice!
WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF “ THE
PLEASURES OF MEMORY."
ABSENT or present, still to thee,
My friend, what magic spells belong !
In turn thy converse, and thy song.
But when the dreaded hour shall come
By Friendship ever deem'd too nigh,
Shall weep that aught of thee can die,
Thy homage offer'd at her shrine,
April 19, 1812.
RousseAC-Voltaire our Gibbon-and de Staël
(10) Leman! these names are worthy of thy shore,
Thy shore of names like these; wert thou no more, Their memory thy remembrance would recall : To them thy banks were lovely as to all,
But they have made them lovelier, for the lore
Of mighty minds doth hallow in the core Of human hearts the ruin of a wall
Where dwelt the wise and wond'rous; but by thee How much more, Lake of Beauty! do we feel,
In sweetly gliding o'er thy crystal sea,
Which of the heirs of immortality