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That it belongs to freemen, would disgust
And shock me. I should then with double pain
Feel all the rigour of thy fickle clime;
And if I must bewail the blessing lost,
For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled,
I would at least bewail it under skies
Milder, among a people less austere;
In scenes which having never known me free,
Would not reproach me with the loss I felt.
Whose freedom is by sufferance, and at will
EXTRACT FROM THE COURSE OF TIME.
Praise God, ye servants of the Lord! praise God,
Praise him who made, and who redeemed your souls!
Who gave you hope, reflection, reason, will;
Minds that can pierce eternity remote,
And live at once on future, present, past;
Can speculate on systems yet to make,
And back recoil on ancient days of time.
Of time, soon past; soon lost among the shades
Of buried years. Not so the actions done
In time, the deeds of reasonable men;
As if engraven with pen of iron grain,
And laid in flinty rock, they stand unchanged,
Written on the various pages of the past;
God may forgive, but cannot blot them out.
The faithful annals of the past; who reads,
IMAGINARY APOSTROPHE OF NAPOLEON
Oh! bury me deep in the boundless sea,
.For my spirit in life was as fierce and free
And as far from the reach of mortal control
And the ebbs and flows of my single soul,
Then my briny pall shall engirdle the world,
And each mutinous billow, that skyward curled,
That name shall be storied in record sublime,
In the uttermost corners of earth:
Be the glorified land of my birth!
Yes, bury my heart in the boundless sea :—
Should less than an ocean my sepulchre be,
John Malcolm, Esq.
Outrageous did the loud wind blow
The vessel tossing to and fro,
Matilda to her fearful breast
His presence all her fears increased,
Now nearer to the grateful shore,
The daring waves now ceased to roar,
Matilda, with a mother's joy,
How fervent she embraced her boy!
O! much deceived and hapless fair,
Thou, from that fatal moment, ne'er
For, stepping forth from off the deck,
The babe, enclasping from her neck,
Amazement—chained! her haggard eye
Gave not a tear to flow,
She stood a sculptured woe.