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Let Europe see thee wipe away those stains,
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-
The loath'd polution of a faithless core. Then shall thy old-perhaps thy best ally
Receive thee to her ports as heretofore. Britain is far too generous and too high, To balance betwixt self and sympathy!
Wouldst thou yet live rever'd in after story
'Midst faithful subjects-give them liberty. That is the best and surest regal glory
Which has it source in public harmony.
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 Meiningen?,
Who could the tempest waive-by wisdom win.
Or wouldst thou do an act of justice still,
And close thy life in somewhat fair renown,
Who but the most austere could trample down
Though now repress'd beneath a blighting frown",
Anna Maria da ia.
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 Com. mons of England.
Late glow'd from all that kindness could impart,
When, as they jocund rang’d proud Windsor's mead,
The twain sweet, artless, beauteous maidens strove, By many a winning grace of word and deed,
To testify their young—their mutual love.
Brief joy, alas ! the Trans-Atlantic Dove,
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; Not aye in quest of freedom—that were sage
But often frenzy-fraught, without a plan, Disgraceful acts of poor short-sighted man.
Greece, as was said of old, untutor'd sprang
From Nature's hand—that mighty artisan-
England ! thou'st had thy share of civil broils,
Fought every inch to win thy lofty station ;
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,
Who governs thee? A Prince whom you adore !
Who sav'd us all from ruin and from shame!
A nation's shield.
That Hero–hail'd by many a grateful shore
What need has Raymond to pronounce a name
Which Europe never breathes without acclaim !
The splendid talents and the patriot fame
Avaunt, ye ingrates, who would taunt the man
Who view'd with awe that venerable pileThe work of ages, great in power and plan
The Briton's birthright, pride-his domicil.
May no uncautious, hurrying hand defile
So pois'd, that, move one precious prop the while,
We would not say, abstain at every point,
That were to march not with the lapse of time,