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Since that sad hour, in camps and courts adored, Rebels from God, and tyrants o'er Mankind !"

From his obscure haunt Shrieked Fear, of Cruelty the ghastly dam, Feverous yet freezing, eager-paced yet slow, As she that creeps from forth her swampy reeds, Ague, the biform hag! when early Spring Beams on the marsh-bred vapors.

“Even so" (the exulting Maid said) “ The sainted herald of good tidings fell, And thus they witnessed God! But now the

clouds Treading, and storms beneath their feet, they soar Higher, and higlier soar, and soaring sing Loud songs of triumph! O ye spirits of God, Hover around my mortal agonies!" She spake, and instantly faint melody Melts on her ear, soothing and sad, and slow, Such Measures as at calmest midnight heard By aged hermit in his holy dream, Foretell and solace death; and now they rise Louder, as when with harp and mingled voice The white-robed* multitude of slaughtered saints

* Revelations, vi. 9. 11. And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the Word of God, and for the testimony which they held. And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellow-servants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled.

At Heaven's wide-opened portals gratulant
Receive some martyred patriot. The harmony
Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense
Brief slumber seized, and confused ecstasy.

At length awakening slow, she gazed around : And through a mist, the relique of that trance Still thinning as she gazed, an Isle appeared, Its high, o'erhanging, white, broad-breasted cliffs, Glassed on the subject ocean. A vast plain Stretched opposite, where ever and anon The ploughman following sad his meagre team Turned up fresh skulls unstartled, and the bones Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there All mingled lay beneath the common earth, Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the fields Stept a fair Form, repairing all she might, Her temples olive-wreathed; and where she trod, Fresh flowerets rose, and many a foodful herb. But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure, And anxious pleasure beamed in her faint eye, As she had newly left a couch of pain, Pale convalescent! (yet some time to rule With power exclusive o'er the willing world, That blest prophetic mandate then fulfilled — Peace be on Earth!) A happy while, but brief, She seemed to wander with assiduous feet, And healed the recent harm of chill and blight, And nursed each plant that fair and virtuous grew.

But soon a deep precursive sound moaned hollow: Black rose the clouds, and now (as in a dream) Their reddening shapes, transformed to warrior,

hosts, Coursed o'er the skr, and hattlerd in mid-air.

Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from heaven
Portentous ! while aloft were seen to float,
Like hideous features looming on the mist,
Wan stains of ominous light! Resigned, yet sad,
The fair Form bowed her olive-crowned brow,
Then o'er the plain with oft-reverted eye
Fled till a place of tombs she reached, and there
Within a ruined sepulchre obscure
Found hiding-place.

The delegated Maid Gazed through her tears, then in sad tones ex

claimed :“Thou mild-eyed Form! wherefore, ah! wherefore fled ? The power of Justice like a name all light, Shone from thy brow; but all they, who unblamed Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness. Ah! why, uninjured and unprofited Should multitudes against their brethren rush ? Why sow they guilt, still reaping misery ? Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace ! are sweet, As after showers the perfumed gale of eve, That flings the cool drops on a feverous cheek ; And gay thy grassy altar piled with fruits. But boasts the shrine of demon War one charm, Save that with many an orgie strange and foul, Dancing around with interwoven arms, The maniac Suicide and giant Murder Exult in their fierce union! I am sad, And know not why the simple peasants crowd Beneath the Chieftains' standard !" Thus the Maid.

To her the tutelary Spirit said :
When luxury and lust's exhausted stores
No more can rouse the appetites of kings;

When the low flattery of their reptile lords
Falls flat and heavy on the accustomed ear;
When eunuchs sing, and fools buffoonery make,
And dancers writhe their harlot-limbs in vain ;
Then War and all its dread vicissitudes
Pleasingly agitate their stagnant hearts :
Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats,
Insipid royalty's keen condiment !
Therefore uninjured and unprofited
(Victims at once and executioners),
The congregated husbandmen lay waste
The vineyard and the harvest. As along
The Bothnic coast, or south ward of the Line,
Though hushed the winds and cloudless the high

noon,
Yet if Leviathan, weary of ease,
In sports unwieldy toss his island bulk,
Ocean behind him billows, and before
A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand.
And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark,
Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War,
And War, his strained sinews knit anew,
Still violate the unfinished works of Peace.
But, yonder look ! for more demands thy view !"
He said; and straightway from the opposite Isle
A vapor sailed, as when a cloud, exhaled
From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence,
Travels the sky for many a trackless league,
Till o'er some death-doomed land, distant in vain,
It broods incumbent. Forth with from the plain,
Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose,
And steered its course which way

the

vapor went.

The Maiden paused, musing what this might mean.

But long time passed not, ere that brighter cloud
Returned more bright; along the plain it swept;
And soon from forth its bursting sides emerged
A dazzling form, broad-bosomed, bold of eye,
And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound.
Not more majestic stood the healing God,
When from his bow the arrow sped that slew
Huge Python. Shrieked Ambition's giant throng,
And with them hissed the locust-fiends that crawled
And glittered in Corruption's slimy track.
Great was their wrath, for short they knew their

reign :
And such commotion made they, and uproar,
As when the mad tornado bellows through
The guilty islands of the western main,
What time departing from their native shores,
Eboe, or Koromantyn's* plain of palms,

* The Slaves in the West Indies consider death as a passport to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of which the thoughts are better than the language in which they are conveyed.

Ω σκότου πύλας θάνατε, προλείπων
'Ες γένος σπεύδους υποζευχθεν "Ατα
Ου ξενισθήση γενύων σπαραγμούς,

Ουδ' ολολύγμα,

'Αλλά και κύκλοισι χοροι τύποισι,
Κ'ασμάτων χαράι· φοβερός μεν εσσι
'Αλλ' όμως ελευθερία συνοικείς,

Στυγνέ Τύραννε!

Δασκίοις επί πτερύγεσσι σήσι
'Α! θαλάσσιον καθορώντες οίδμα
Αιθεροπλάγκτοις υπό ποσσ' ανείσι

Πατρίδ' επ' αίαν.

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