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(Black Nell laughs horrible—to hear the scoff!)
Thee to defend, meek Galilean ! Thee
And thy mild laws of love unutterable,
Mistrust and enmity have burst the bands
Of social peace; and listening treachery lurks
With pious fraud to snare a brother's life;
And childless widows o'er the groaning land
Wail numberless; and orphans weep for bread.
Thee to defend, dear Saviour of mankind !
Thee, Lamb of God! Thee, blameless Prince of

peace!
From all sides rush the thirsty brood of War,-
Austria, and that foul Woman of the North,
The lustful murderess of her wedded Lord !
And he, connatural mind! whom (in their songs
So bards of elder time had haply feigned)
Some Fury fondled in her hate to man,
Bidding her serpent hair in mazy surge
Lick his young face, and at his mouth imbreathe
Horrible sympathy! And leagued with these
Each petty German princeling, nursed in gore !
Soul-hardened barterers of human blood !

con

ford moved an amendment to the following effect .—“That the House hoped his Majesty would seize the earliest opportunity to conclude a peace with France," &c. This motion was opposed by the Duke of Portland, who “ sidered the war to be merely grounded on one principlethe preservation of the Christian Religion." May 30th, 1794, the Duke of Bedford moved a number of resolutions, with a view to the establishment of a peace with France. He was opposed (among others) by Lord Abingdon, in these remarkable words : “ The best road to Peace, my Lords, is War! and war carried on in the same manner in which we are taught to worship our Creator, namely, with all our souls, and with all our minds, and with all our hearts, and with all our strength."

Death's prime slave-merchants ! Scorpion whips

of Fate! Nor least in savagery of holy zeal, Apt for the yoke, the race degenerate, Whom Britain erst had blushed to call her sons ! Thee to defend the Moloch priest prefers The prayer

of hate, and bellows to the herd
That Deity, accomplice Deity
In the fierce jealousy of wakened wrath
Will

go

forth with our armies and our fleets
To scatter the red ruin on their foes !
O blasphemy! to mingle fiendish deeds
With blessedness!

Lord of unsleeping Love,* From everlasting Thou! We shall not die, These, even these, in mercy didst thou form, Teachers of Good through Evil, by brief wrong Making Truth lovely, and her future might Magnetic o'er the fixed untrembling heart. In the primeval age a dateless while The vacant Shepherd wandered with his flock, Pitching his tent where'er the green grass waved. But soon Imagination conjured up A host of new desires; with busy aim, Each for himself,

Earth's

eager

children toiled. So Property began, twy-streaming fount, Whence Vice and Virtue flow, honey and gall. Hence the soft couch, and many-colored robe, The timbrel, and arch'd dome and costly feast, With all the inventive arts, that nursed the soul

* Art thou not from everlasting, O Lord, my God, mine Holy One ? We shall not die. O Lord, thou hast ordained them for j dgment, &c. Habakkuk.

To forms of beauty, and by sensual wants
Unsensualized the mind, which in the means
Learnt to forget the grossness of the end,
Best pleasured with its own activity.
And hence Disease that withers manhood's arm,
The daggered Envy, spirit-quenching Want,
Warriors, and Lords, and Priests--all the sore ills
That vex and desolate our mortal life.
Wide-wasting ills ! yet each the immediate source
Of mightier good. Their keen necessities
To ceaseless action goading human thought,
Have made Earth's reasoning animal her Lord ;
And the pale-featured Sage's trembling hand
Strong as a host of armed Deities,
Such as the blind Ionian fabled erst.

From avarice thus, from luxury and war
Sprang heavenly science; and from science freedom.
O'er wakened realms Philosophers and Bards
Spread in concentric circles; they whose souls,
Conscious of their high dignities from God,
Brook not wealth’s rivalry! and they who long
Enamored with the charms of order hate
The unseemly disproportion; and whoe'er
Turn with mild sorrow from the victor's car
And the low puppetry of thrones, to muse
On that blest triumph, when the patriot Sage
Called the red lightnings from the o'er-rushing cloud
And dashed the beauteous terrors on the earth
Smiling majestic. Such a phalanx ne'er
Measured firm paces to the calming sound
Of Spartan flute! These on the fated day,
When, stung to rage by pity, eloquent men
Have roused with pealing voice the unnumbered

That toil and groan and bleed, hungry and blind, -
These hushed awhile with patient eye serene
Shall watch the mad careering of the storm;
Then o'er the wild and wavy chaos rush
And tame the outrageous mass, with plastic might
Moulding confusion to such perfect forms,
As erst were wont-bright visions of the day!
To float before them, when, the summer noon,
Beneath some arch'd romantic rock reclined,
They felt the sea breeze lift their youthful locks ;
Or in the month of blossoms, at mild eve,
Wandering with desultory feet inhaled
The wafted perfumes, and the flocks and woods
And many-tinted streams, and setting sun
With all his gorgeous company of clouds
Ecstatic gazed! then homeward as they strayed
Cast the sad eye to earth, and inly mused
Why there was misery in a world so fair.
Ah! far removed from all that glads the sense,
From all that softens or ennobles Man,
The wretched Many! bent beneath their loads
They gape at pageant Power, nor recognise
Their cots' transmuted plunder! From the tree
Of Knowledge, ere the vernal sap had risen,
Rudely disbranched! Blest Society !
Fitliest depictured by some sun-scorched waste,
Where oft majestic through the tainted noon
The Simoom sails, before whose purple pomp
Who falls not prostrate dies! And where by

night,
Fast by each precious fountain on green herbs
The lion couches; or hyæna dips
Deep in the lucid stream his bloody jaws;
Or serpent plants his vast moon-glittering bulk,

O thou poor

Caught in whose monstrous twine Behemoth* yells,
His bones loud-crashing!

O ye numberless,
Whom foul oppression's ruffian gluttony,
Drives from life's plenteous feast !

wretch
Who nursed in darkness and made wild by want,
Roamest for prey, yea thy unnatural hand
Dost lift to deeds of blood! O pale-eyed form,
The victim of seduction, doomed to know
Polluted nights and days of blasphemy!
Who in loathed orgies with lewd wassailers
Must gaily laugh, while thy remembered home
Gnaws like a viper at thy secret heart !
O aged women! ye who weekly catch
The morsel tossed by law-forced charity,
And die so slowly, that none call it murder!
O loathly suppliants ! ye, that unreceived
Totter heart-broken from the closing gates
Of the full Lazar house, or, gazing, stand,
Sick with despair! O ye to glory's field
Forced or ensn

snared, who, as ye gasp in death,
Bleed with new wounds beneath the vulture's beak!
O thou poor widow, who, in dreams dost view
Thy husband's mangled corse, and from short doze
Start'st with a shriek; or in thy half-thatched cot
Waked by the wintry night-storm, wet and cold,
Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby! Rest awhile,
Children of wretchedness! More groans must rise,
More blood must stream, or ere your wrongs be full.

* Behemoth, in Hebrew, signifies wild beasts in general. Some believe it is the elephant, some the hippopotamus ; some affirm it is the wild bull. Poetically, it designates any large quadruped.

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