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And when the cloud upon us came,
Still may thy spirit dwell on mine,
And teach it what to brave or brookThere's more in one soft word of thine Than in the world's defied rebuke.
Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,
Still waves with fond fidelity
Its boughs above a monument.
The winds might rend-the skies might pour, But there thou wert-and still would'st be
Devoted in the stormiest hour
To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.
But thou and thine shall know no blight,
For heaven in sunshine will requite
The kind-and thee the most of all.
Then let the ties of baffled love
Be broken-thine will never break; Thy heart can feel-but will not move; Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.
And these, when all was lost beside,
Were found and still are fix'd in thee
And bearing still a breast so tried,
Earth is no desert-ev'n to me.
[FROM THE FRENCH.]
WE do not curse thee, Waterloo !
There 'twas shed, but is not sunk
Rising from each gory trunk,
Never yet was heard such thunder
As then shall shake the world with wonder
Never yet was seen such lightning,
As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning!
Like the Wormwood Star foretold
By the sainted Seer of old,
The Chief has fallen, but not by you,
When the soldier citizen
Sway'd not o'er his fellow men
Save in deeds that led them on
Where Glory smiled on Freedom's son-
With that youthful chief competed?
And thou too of the snow-white plume! Whose realm refused thee ev'n a tomb; (7)
Better hadst thou still been leading
France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding,
Than sold thyself to death and shame
Such as he of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears.
Shone and shiver'd fast around thee-
O'er glories gone the invaders march,
With her heart in her voice;