L NEW Y PUBLIC LIBRA

ENOX AND

IDATION:

THE NEW

PUBLIC L

DWARD, lo! to sudden fate

Weave we the woof. The thread is

Half of thy heart we consecrate.

The web is wove. The work is done.

Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

spun.

Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here to mourn :
In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,
They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul !

No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.

All-hail, ye genuine kings! Britannia's issue, hail!