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Let Europe see thee wipe away those stains,
Which blur thy honour and lay waste thy plains.
Take-take again the brave ones, harshly driven
Unhappy wanderers-from their native shore,
And in the fear of an avenging Heaven,
Learn to eschew, what all the world abhor--
Wouldst thou yet live rever'd in after story
That is the best and surest regal glory
When rebels rage, and horrors once begin,
(E'en reason's o'erwhelm'd by anarchy).
A wise Prince. "Twere better far to vie with Meiningen1,
Anna Maria da Gloria.
Or wouldst thou do an act of justice still,
Who but the most austere could trample down
Though now repress'd beneath a blighting frown,
1 Nothing could be better adapted to preserve peace, happiness, and harmony in a state during turbulent times like the present, than the speech which was addressed by the Prince Saxe Meiningen to his subjects on the 12th October 1830, which was at once humane, liberal, and disinterested.
2 It must be understood that what is said of the King of Portugal in this Poem is altogether unconnected with his private character, which the Author believes, from good authority, to be amiable. It has but reference to his public conduct as a prince, as it appears in the face of Europe,—in the records of the times, and as it has been discussed in the House of Commons of England.
Late glow'd from all that kindness could impart,
When, as they jocund rang'd proud Windsor's mead,
Regain'd the parent wing-bless'd may she prove!
The Rose of
Still rough revolt will wake, and horrors rage,
And ever have done since the world began ;
Disgraceful acts of poor short-sighted man.
Greece, as was said of old, untutor'd sprang
From Nature's hand-that mighty artisan
A polish'd gem! till, as already sang,
England! thou'st had thy share of civil broils,
Hast thou beheld ere gain'd this elevation?
Thou brightest beacon to each trembling nationStill not untangible, we grieve to see,
To those curst fumes, which rise from fermentation
Pause for a moment, I entreat of thee,
And say, who's half so happy-half so free!
A nation's shield.
Who governs thee? A Prince whom
A Prince whom you adore!
That Hero-hail'd by many a grateful shore—
What need has Raymond to pronounce a name
Which Europe never breathes without acclaim !
Nor were it just or generous not to feel
The splendid talents and the patriot fame
Of him, who, conscious where he best could heal,
Made conquest of himself-our noble Peel!
Avaunt, ye ingrates, who would taunt the man
So pois'd, that, move one precious prop the while,
It falls a shapeless ruin-shatter'd—maim'd—
What then? Why frightful anarchy 's proclaim'd!
We would not say, abstain at every point,
That were to march not with the lapse of time,