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Trampling his path through wood and brake, And canes which crackling fall before his way, · And tassel-grass, whose silvery feathers play O'ertopping the young trees,
On comes the Elephant, to slake His thirst at noon in yon pellucid springs. Lo! from his trunk upturn'd, aloft he flings The grateful shower; and now Plucking the broad-leaved bough
Of yonder plane, with wavey motion slow,
He moves it to and fro.
But when that form of beauty meets his sight, The trunk its undulating motion stops, From his forgetful hold the plane-branch drops, Reverent he kneels, and lifts his rational eyes To her as if in prayer;
And when she pours her angel voice in song Entranced he listens to the thrilling notes, Till his strong temples, bathed with sudden dews, Their fragrance of delight and love diffuse.
Lo! as the voice melodious floats around,
The Tigress leaves her toothless cubs to hear;
By that enchanting song;
The antic Monkeys, whose wild gambols late, When not a breeze waved the tall jungle grass, Shook the whole wood, are hush'd, and silently Hang on the cluster'd tree.
All things in wonder and delight are still; . Only at times the Nightingale is heard, Not that in emulous skill that sweetest bird Her rival strain would try,
A mighty songster, with the Maid to vie; She only bore her part in powerful sympathy.
Well might they thus adore that heavenly Maid!
Musk-spot, nor sandal-streak, nor scarlet stain,
Nor trinketry on front, or neck, or breast,
A daughter of the years of innocence.
And therefore all things loved her. When she stood
Beside the glassy pool, the fish, that flies
Quick as an arrow from all other eyes,
Sought not to tempt her from her secret nest,
Who counsels peace at this momentous hour, When God hath given deliverance to the oppress'd, And to the injured power? Who counsels peace, when Vengeance like a flood Rolls on, no longer now to be repress'd; When innocent blood
From the four corners of the world cries out
Woe, woe to England! woe and endless shame,
False to her feelings and unspotted fame,
For by what names shall Right and Wrong be known,. What new and courtly phrases must we feign
For Falsehood, Murder, and all monstrous crimes,
And France, who yearns even now to break her chain,
No! by the innumerable dead
Whose blood hath for his lust of power been shed,
For sooner shall the Ethiop change his skin, Or from the Leopard shall her spots depart, Than this man change his old flagitious heart. Have ye not seen him in the balance weighed, And there found wanting?-On the stage of blood Foremost the resolute adventurer stood;
And when, by many a battle won,
Then, like Octavius in old time,
Fair name might he have handed down,
Fool! should he cast away that bright renown!
But Evil was his Good,
For all too long in blood had he been nurst, And ne'er was earth with verier tyrant curst. Bold man and bad,
Remorseless, godless, full of fraud and lies, And black with murders and with perjuries, Himself in Hell's whole panoply he clad; No law but his own headstrong will he knew,
No counsellor but his own wicked heart. From evil thus portentous strength he drew, And trampled under foot all human ties, All holy laws, all natural charities.
O France! beneath this fierce Barbarian's sway Disgraced thou art to all succeeding times; Rapine, and blood, and fire have mark'd thy way, All loathsome, all unutterable crimes.
A curse is on thee, France! from far and wide It hath gone up to Heaven; all lands have cried For vengeance upon thy detested head;
All nations curse thee, France! for wheresoe'er In peace or war thy banner hath been spread, All forms of human woe have follow'd there: The Living and the Dead
Cry out alike against thee! They who bear, Crouching beneath its weight, thine iron yoke,
Join in the bitterness of secret prayer The voice of that innumerable throng Whose slaughtered spirits day and night invoke The everlasting Judge of right and wrong, How long, O Lord! Holy and Just, how long!
A merciless oppressor hast thou been, Thyself remorselessly oppress'd meantime; Greedy of war, when all that thou couldst gain Was but to dye thy soul with deeper crime, And rivet faster round thyself the chain.
O blind to honour, and to interest blind,
Thyself the while a miserable slave; Behold the flag of vengeance is unfurl'd! The dreadful armies of the North advance ; While England, Portugal, and Spain combined Give their triumphant banners to the wind, And stand victorious in the fields of France.
One man hath been for ten long wretched years The cause of all this blood and all these tears; One man in this most aweful point of time Draws on thy danger, as he caused thy crime. Wait not too long the event,
For now whole Europe comes against thee bent; His wiles and their own strength the nations know; Wise from past wrongs, on future peace intent,
The People and the Princes, with one mind,
Even yet, O France! averts thy punishment: Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind; Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind!
France! if thou lov'st thine ancient fame,
Of frozen Muscovy;