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When duty bids you bleed in open war:
Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious

crew.

Heroes! for instant sacrifice prepared;

Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent 10 'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident

To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared

To guard the fallen, and consummate the event, Your Country rears this sacred Monument!

XLII.

SIEGE OF VIENNA RAISED BY JOHN SOBIESKI.

FEBRUARY, 1816.

O, FOR A kindling touch from that pure
Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,

flame

In words like these: "Up, Voice of song! proclaim

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Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim :
For lo! the Imperial City stands released
From bondage threatened by the embattled

East,

And Christendom respires; from guilt and shame

Redeemed, from miserable fear set free

By one day's feat, one mighty victory.

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Chant the Deliverer's praise in every tongue! The Cross shall spread, the Crescent hath waxed

dim;

He conquering, as in joyful Heaven is sung,
HE CONQUERING THROUGH GOD, AND GOD BY

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XLIII.

OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

FEBRUARY, 1816.

THE Bard-whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet trained to judgments righteously severe,
Fervid, yet conversant with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway:
He-whose experienced eye can pierce the array
Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
The aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose mists have rolled

away

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Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,1
He only, if such breathe, in strains devout
Shall comprehend this victory sublime;
Shall worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The triumph hail, which from their peaceful
clime

Angels might welcome with a choral shout!

XLIV.

EMPERORS and Kings, how oft have temples

rung

With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's

scorn!

How oft above their altars have been hung
Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn
Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born,
And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung!
Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is

sprung;

In this firm hour Salvation lifts her horn.

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1 "From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."-SPENSER.

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Glory to arms! But, conscious that the nerve
Of popular reason, long mistrusted, freed
Your thrones, ye Powers, from duty fear to
swerve!

Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed
Reviving, heavier chastisement deserve

Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed. 1816. (?)

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But aye ascending, restless in her pride
From all that martial feats could yield
To her desires, or to her hopes present-
Stooped to the Victory on that Belgic field.
Achieved, this closing deed magnificent,
And with the embrace was satisfied.
-Fly, ministers of Fame,

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With every help that ye from earth and heaven may claim!

Bear through the world these tidings of delight!

ΙΟ

-Hours, Days, and Months, have borne them in the sight

Of mortals, hurrying like a sudden shower
That land-ward stretches from the sea,

The morning's splendours to devour;
But this swift travel scorns the company
Of irksome change, or threats from saddening

power.

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-The shock is given the Adversaries bleed—
Lo, Justice triumphs! Earth is freed!

Joyful annunciation!—it went forth

It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North- 20
It found no barrier on the ridge
Of Andes-frozen gulfs became its bridge-
The vast Pacific gladdens with the freight-
Upon the Lakes of Asia 'tis bestowed-
The Arabian desert shapes a willing road
Across her burning breast,

For this refreshing incense from the West!-
-Where snakes and lions breed,

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Where towns and cities thick as stars appear, Wherever fruits are gathered, and where'er 30 The upturned soil receives the hopeful seedWhile the Sun rules, and cross the shades of night

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The unwearied arrow hath pursued its flight!
The eyes of good men thankfully give heed,
And in its sparkling progress read
Of virtue crowned with glory's deathless meed :
Tyrants exult to hear of kingdoms won,
And slaves are pleased to learn that mighty
feats are done;

Even the proud Realm, from whose distracted borders

This messenger of good was launched in air, 40 France, humbled France, amid her wild dis

orders,

Feels, and hereafter shall the truth declare,
That she too lacks not reason to rejoice,
And utter England's name with sadly-plausive
voice.

II.

O genuine glory, pure renown!

And well might it beseem that mighty Town Into whose bosom earth's best treasures flow, To whom all persecuted men retreat ;

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If a new Temple lift her votive brow
High on the shore of silver Thames-to greet 50
The peaceful guest advancing from afar.
Bright be the Fabric, as a star

Fresh risen, and beautiful within!-there meet
Dependence infinite, proportion just;

A Pile that Grace approves, and Time can

trust

With his most sacred wealth, heroic dust.

III.

But if the valiant of this land

In reverential modesty demand,

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That all observance, due to them, be paid
Where their serene progenitors are laid;
Kings, warriors, high-souled poets, saint-like

sages,

England's illustrious sons of long, long ages;
Be it not unordained that solemn rites,
Within the circuit of those Gothic walls,
Shall be performed at pregnant intervals;
Commemoration holy that unites
The living generations with the dead;
By the deep soul-moving sense
Of religious eloquence,-

By visual pomp, and by the tie
Of sweet and threatening harmony;
Soft notes, awful as the omen
Of destructive tempests coming,

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And escaping from that sadness

Into elevated gladness;

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While the white-robed choir attendant,
Under mouldering banners pendant,

Provoke all potent symphonies to raise

Songs of victory and praise,

For them who bravely stood unhurt, or bled 80 With medicable wounds, or found their graves

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