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Vaults it from rock to rock, from peak to peak. A nation from its wintry trance set louse,
Far seen it shimmer'd on Caer Ebranc wall,

The bursting ice of servitude, the bloom
And Malwyn blew a bugle blast for joy.

or freedom in the wither'd mind obscure, The sun uprising sees the dusk night fled

The bleakness of the heart discomfited, Already from tall Pendle, and the height

And over the bow'd shape and darkling brow Of Ingleborough, sees Helvellyn cast

The flowering out of faded glories, sounds A meteor splendour on the mountain lakes,

of cheering and of comfort to the rent Like mirrors of the liquid molten brass.

And broken by the tyrannous northern blast, The brightest and the broadest and the last,

These are earth's rich adornings, these the choice There flakes the beacon glare, and in the midst Of nature's bounteous and inspiring shows. Dashing the ruddy sparkles to and fro

Therefore the young Sun with his prime of light With the black remnant of a pine-tree stem,

Shall beam on ensigns; the blithe airs shall waft Stands arm'd from head to foot Prince Vortimer. Jocund the lofty pealing battle words;

And not unwelcome, fierce crests intercept
The spring-dews from the thirsty soil; the brass

For vestment the admiring earth shall wear
BOOK XI.

More proud than all her flowery robe of green.

In all the isle was flat subjection tame, Mighty in thy endurance, in revenge

In all the isle, hath Freedom rear'd her, plumed Mightier! thou shakest thy dusky patience off,

With terror, sandald with relentlessness : O Britain! as a snake its wither'd skin,

Her march like brazen chariots, or the tramp That boastful to the sunshine coils and spreads

Of horsemen in a rocky glen; and clouds Ir bright and cruel beauty. Not in vain

Of javelins in her front, and in her rear Have those wild beacons rear'd their fires, thou Dead men in grisly heaps, dead Saxons strewn wakest,

l'pon their Trampled White Horse banners: them The slumber falls from thee, as dewdrops shed

Her fury hath no time to scorn, no pause From the morn-kindling falcon's wing. On hill,

To look back on her deathful deeds achieved, In vale, in forest and in moor, in field

While aught remains before her to achieve. And city, like the free and common air,

Distract amid the wide spread feast of blood, Like the wide-spreading golden hue of dawn,

The wandering raven knows not where to feed, Ranges the boundless passion uncontrollid.

And the gorged vulture droops his wing and sleeps. The “ Vigilance," hath dropp'd absorb'd away From the fierce war-cry, one portending word

War hath the garb of holiness, bear proof, " Vengeance,” rides lonely upon all the winds.

Thou vale of Clwyd, to our cold late days,

By the embalming of tradition narned, Alas, delicious Spring! God sends thee down

Maes Garmon, of that saintly Bishop. He To breathe upon his cold and perish'd works

Ilis grey thin locks unshaken, his slow port Beauteous revival; earth should welcome thee,

Calm as he trod a chapel's rush-strewn floor, Thee and the West wind, thy smooth paramour,

Comes foremost of his Christian mountaineers, With the soft laughter of her flowery meads,

Against th' embatiled Pagans' fierce array. Her joys, her melodies. The prancing slag

By the green margin of the stream, the band Flutters the shivering sern, the steed shakes out

Of Arngrim glitter in the morning light. His mane, the dewy herbage silver-webb'd

Their shadowy lances line the marble stream With frank step trampling; the wild goat looks down with long and level rules of trembling shade; From his empurpling bed of heath, where break

The sunshine falling in between in streaks The waters deep and blue with crystal gleams

Of brightness. They th' unwonted show of war Of their quick-leaping people: the fresh lark Behold slow winding down the wooded hill. Is in the morning sky, the nightingale Tunes evesong to the dropping waterfall.

“ Now by our Gods," cried Arngrim, “ discontent Creation lives with loveliness, all melts

To scare our midnight with their insolent fires, And trembles into one mild harmony.

They break upon our calm and peaceful day." Man, only harsh and inharmonious Man,

But silent as ihe travel of the clouds Strews for thy delicate feet the battle field,

At breathless twilight, or a flock that winds, Makes all thy smooth and flowing airs to jar

Dappling the brown cliff with its snowy specks, With his hoarse trumpetings, scares thy sweet light

Foldward along the evening dews, a bell With gleams of violent and angry brass.

Now and then tinkling, faintly shrill, come on

Outspreading on the meadow the stern band Away! it is a yearly common joy,

Of Britons with their mitred Captain ; front A rapture that ne'er fails the solemn Sun

Opposed to front they stand, and spear to spear. In his eternal round, the blossoming

Then Germain clasp'd his hands and look'd to heaven And fragrance of the green resolving earth.

Then Germain in a deep and solemn tone But a fresh springtide in the human soul,

Cried "Alleluia !" answer was flung back:

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From cliff and cavern, “Alleluia," burst;

Of day, just not so utterly extinct
It seem'd strong voices broke the bosom'd earth, And quench'd as yet to show splendour had been,
Dropt voices from the clouds, and in the rush And was not; the dusk simile of himself
Of waters was a human clamour,* far

Delighted, royal once, now with a mock
Swept over all things in its boundless range

And mimic of his lustre haunted. Why, The scattering and discomfiting appeal:

Why should not human glory wane, since clouds 'T was shaken from the shivering forest leaves, Put out the immortal planets in the sky? Ceaseless and countless, lifeless living things Why should not crowns have seasons, since the moon Multiplied, “Alleluia," all the air;

Hath but her hour to queen it in the heavens ? Was that one word, all sounds became that sound, Why should not high and climbing souls be lost As the broad lightning swallows up all lights, In the benighting shroud of the world's gloom? All quench'd in one blue universal glare.

Lo, one inglorious, undistinguish'd night

Gathers the ancient mountains in its train,
On rush'd the Britons, but 'gainst flying foes, While e'er the dunnest and most turbulent clouds
Quick smote the Britons, but no breast-plate clove

Thicken upon the stateliest; but beneath
Before them, then the ignominious death

The lowly and contented waters lie First through the back found way to Saxon hearts.

Asleep upon their weedy banks, yet they

Have all the faint blue brightness that remains.
Oh, Suevian forests! Clwyd's vale beholds

Then inoodier the fantastic humour grown,
What ye have never witness'd, Arngrim's flight-
Fleet huntsman, thou art now the deer, the herd,

Stoop'd upon mean and trivial things, them too
Whereof thou wert the prime and lofty horn'd,

Wrought lo his wayward misanthropic scope.

Amid the swaying and disturbed air
Are falling fast around thee, th' unleash'd dogs

The rooks hung murmuring on the oak-tree tops,
Of havoc on their reeking tlanks and thee,
The herdsman of the meek and peaceful goats,

As plaining their uneasy loftiness.

While, solitary as himself, the onl Thee, the soft tuner of the reedy Auie

Sale calling on its deaf and wandering mate. Beside Nantfrangon's stony cataract,

Him at that sound seized merriment, that made Mordrin pursues. So strong that battle word

The lip drop, the brow writhe. “ Howl on," he cried, Its holy transmutation and austere

Howl for thy dusky paramour,”-and turn'd Works in the soul of man, the spirit sheathes

To where Rowena's chamber casements stood,
In the thrice folding brass of valour, swells

Void, silent, dark of their once-brilliant lights.
The thin and lazy blood t' a current fierce
And torrent like, and in the breast erewhile
But open to the tremulous melting airs

Sudden around 'gan spire the mountain tops

Each with its intertwisted sheaf of flame,
Of passions gentle and affections smooth,
Plants armed hopes and eagle-wing'd desires.

South, North and East and West, fire everywhere,
Therefore that youth his downy hand hath wreathed Then gazed the unking'd, then cried out the fallen,

Everywhere fiashing and tumultuous light,
In the strong Suevian's knotted locks, drawn up
Like a wrought helm of ebon; therefore fix

“ Now, by my soul, when comets gaze on kings His eyes, more used to swim in languid light,

Even from the far and vaulting heavens, 't is faith

There's hollowness beneath their lottering thrones; With an implacable and constant stare Down on the face of Arngrim, backward drawn,

But when they flash upon our earth, and stare

Close in our faces, 't is ripe time and full
As he ils writhing agony enjoy'd;
And therefore he, whose wont it was to bear

For palaces to quake and royal tombs
The many sparkling crystal, or the cup

To ope their wide and all-receiving jaws. of dripping water lily from the spring

What is 't to me? ye menace at the great! To the blithe maiden of his love, now shakes

Ye stoop not to be dangerous and dread,

Oh haughty and mysterious lights! to thrones
A gory and dissever'd head aloft,
And bounds in wild ovation down the vale.

Low and despised like mine; in earlier days

Vortigern would have quail'd, he mocks you now. But in that dire and beacon-haunted night

Ye are not of the heavens, I know, I see, King Vortigern his wonted seat had ta'en

Discomfitures of darkness, Conquerors Upon Caermerdd hyn's topmost palace lower.

Of midnight, ye are of the earth. Why stands There, the best privilege of greatness fall'n,

Caermerdúhyn and the realm of Dyfed black He saw not, nor was seen: there wrapt in gloom,

Amid this restless multitude of flames ? 'T was his soul's treasured luxury and choice joy

"T is not for idle or for fruitless show To frame out of himself and his drear state,

That with such splendid violation, Man Dark comfortable likenesses, and full

Infringeth on stern nature's laws, and rends And frequent throng'd they this wild midnight.

From night her consecrate and ancient pall! All cloudy and indistinct lay round; the sole

Samor, thy hand is there! and Vortigern Dull glimmering like to light was what remain'd

Hath not yet learnt the patience cold and tame

To be outblazed and stifled thus."-Down past * Hollinshed, Book 5, Chap. 6.

The Monarch from his seat; few minules fled,

And lo, within that Palace all look'd red,

So I the fine immortal light would pour And hurried with a deep confusing glare:

Abroad, in the long after-time to beam And over it a vaulting dome of smoke

A consecrate and vestal fire, to guide Sarging arose and vast, till roaring out

Through danger's precipices wild, the slopes Columans of mounting fire sprung up, and all Sleepy and smooth of luxury and false bliss, Whelm'd in one broad envelopement of Aame, All lovers of their country. They my song Stood; as when in heroic Pagan song

Embosoming within their heart of heart, Apollo to his Clarian temple came;

Like mine own Samor should bear on, too strong At once the present Godhead kindled all

To perish, and too haughty to despair. Th' elaborate architecture, glory-wreathed

They happier, he uprearing on the sand The pillars rose, the sculptured architrave

A Pharos, steady for a while to slem Swam in the liquid gold, the worshipper

The fierce assaulting waves, in after times Within the vestibule of marble pure,

To fall; they building for eternity
Held up his hand before his blinded eyes,

Britain's rock-founded temple of renown.
And so adored: but th’unconsuming fire
Innoxious ranged th' unparching edifice.

In the Isle's centre is a champain broad,
But ne'er was Palace or was Monarch seen

Now broken into corn-field and smooth mead, More in that City, one a smouldering heap

Near which a hill, now with the ruin'd towers lay in its ashes white; how went the King

Of Coningsborough (from that fight of Kings

Named in old Saxon phrase), soars crested, Dune And whither, no one knew, but He who knows All things. 'Twas frequent in the vulgar tale,

Skirts with her azure belt the level plain. Vone saw it. yet all knew them well that saw, *

Morn dawnd with all her attributes, the slow At midnight manisest a huge arm came

Impearling of the heavens, the sparkling white Forth from the welkin; once it waved and twice,

On the webh'd grass, the fragrant mistiness, And then it was not: but a bolt thrice fork'd, The fresh airs with the twinkling leaves at sport, Each fork a spike of flame, burst on the roof, And all the gradual and emerging light, Ånd all became a fire, and all fell down

The crystalline distinctness settling clear, And smoulder'd, even as now the shapeless walls

And all the wakening and strengthening sound. Lie in scorch'd heaps and black. At that same hour A dark steed and a darker rider past.

There dawn'd she on a battle-field superb. With speed bemocking mortal steed, or man, The beauty that is war's embellishment, Down the steep hill precipitous : 't was like

The splendour under whose quick-glancing pall In shape and hue black Favorin, on whose back Man proudly moves to slay and to be slain, King Vortigern was wont to ride abroad;

How wonderful! In semicircle huge, Like, sorely not the same, for fire came out

Round that hill foot, the Saxon camps his strength, From under his quick hoofs, and in his breath, A many-colour'd dazzling cirque, more rich And sulphurous the blasted foot-tracks smelt, Than the antumnal woods, when the quick winds Some dinted deep in the hard rock, come sear'd Shake on them broken sunlight, than the skies On meadow grass, where never since have dews When thunder clouds are bursting into light, Lain glitering, never the fresh verdure sprung,

And rainbow-skirted hangs each fold, or fringed

With liquid gold, so waved that crescent broad Now is the whole Isle war. But I must crave

With moving fire, bloom'd all the field with brass : Pardon from those in meaner conflict slain,

Making of dread voluptuousness, the sense Or conquerors; Poesy's fair treasure-house

Of danger in deep admiration lost-
Contains not all the bright and rich, that gem

Oh beauteous if that morning had no eve!
The course of humankind ; in heaven alone
Preserves enrolld th' imperishable brass,

The Eastern horn, his tall steeds to his car
In letters deep of amaranthine light,

Harness'd, whose scythes shone newly burnish’d, held All martyrs to their country and their God.

Caswallon; he his painted soldiery,

Their naked breasts blue-gleaming with uncouth Oh that my spirit, holding the broad glass

And savage portraitures of hideous things, Of its invention, might at once condense

Human and monstrous terribly combined, All rays of glory from the kindling Isle

Array'd ; himself no armour of defence Full emanaling, as of old 't is famed

Cumber'd, as he were one Death dare not slay, The philosophic Syracusan caught

A being from man's vulgar lot exempt, The wide diverging sunbeams, by the force

Commission'd to destroy, yet dangerless of mind creating to himself a right

Amid destruction, against whom war shower'd And property in nature's common gifts,

All its stored terrors, but still baffled back
And domineering the free elements.

Recoil'd from his unwounded front serene.
Ile that heaven-seized artillery pour'd forth
To sear the high beaks of the 'sieging fleet,

The centre were the blue-eyed Germans, loose That burnt, unknowing whence, 'mid the wet waves. Their fierce hair, various each strong nation's arru

A wild and terrible diversity
Heary Huntiogdon, Ilist.
In the fell skill of slaughter, in the art

Of doing sacrifice to death. Some helm'd,

His faithful Lion ramp'd in sculptured ire. Whose visors like distended jaws appear'd

Southward, with crescent its out-stretching horns
Of sylvan monster, some in brinded furs

Circling the foe, lay stretch'd the British camp;
Wrapt shaggy, on whose shoulders seem'd to ramp The centre held King Emrys, on the right
Yet living the fix'd claws; with cross-bows some, Pendragon, on the left th' Armoric King,
Some with long lances, some with falchions curved. With all his tall steeds and brave riders; they
The Arian, wont to make the sable night

The fathers of that famed chivalric race
A pander to his terrors,* in swarth arms

of knights and ladies, glorious in old song,
He bursting from the forest, when the shades White-handed Iseult, Launcelot of the Lake,
Were deepest, like embodied gloom advanced, Chaste Perceval, that won the Sangreal quest.
Shaped for some dreadful purpose, now he moved But everywhere and in all parts alike ·
Unnatural 'mid the clear and golden day.

The Avenger held his post; all heard his voice,
Here Hengist, Horsa there amid the troop

All felt his presence, all obey'd his sway.
Wound their war-horses; he his weapon fell

As western hurricane whirls up from earth,
Shook, a round ball of iron spikes chain'd loose And bears where'er it will, the loose-sheard com,
To a huge pike-stave, like a baleful star,

The fluttering leaves, the shatter'd forest boughs,
Aye gleaming devastation in its sweep;

Even so his spirit seized and bore along, Hengist begirt with that famed falchion call'd

And swept with it those proud brigades. Nor there The “ Widower of Women;" over all

Was not young Malwyn, he his helmet wore The fatal White Horse in the banner shone.

Light shadow'd by an eagle plume, so sued Round to the left Argantyr with the Jntes

His sire, lest in the wildering battle met And Anglians; these for Offa's slaughter wild Their cars should clash in impious strife, nor sought T'exact the usurious payment of revenge;

The father more obedience from the son,
He sternly mindful of that broken fight

For Britain and with Samor fix'd 10 war.
By Wye's clear stream, and his defrauded sword And in his brown and weather-bcaten arms
of its hope-promised banquet, Samor's blood. Came Vortimer, a pine-tree stenu iss mace
Above the multitude of brass the heights

That clove the air with desutidig Weep,
Were crowded with the wives and mothers,t they But by the river browsed a sig.e stead,
With their known presence working shame of fight, Sable as one of that poetic fair,
And the high fear of being thought to fear.

On the fair plain of Enna, ic. the yoke
With them the spoils of Britain, vessels carved, Of Pluto, when Proserprise. let fall
Statues, and vestments of the Tyrian dye,

From her soft lap her turers, and mourn'd their loss Standards with antique legend scrollid of deeds Lavish, not for herself ieserved her tean. Done in old times, and gorgeous arms, and cups The horseman, not unlike that ravisher, And lamps, and plate, or by fantastic art

Wore kingly aspect, and his step and mien Minister'd to fond luxury's wayward choice, Were as his realm were in a gloomier ciirse, Or consecrate to th' altar use of God.

Amid a drearier ahnosphere, 'mid things

Sluggish and melancholy, slow and dead. And there the Saxon Gods, the wood and stone

As though disclaim'd hy each, and claiming none Whereto that people knelt and deified

He lay with cold impartial apathy Their own hands' work; the Father of the race,

Eyeing both armies, as their fates to him
Woden, all arm'd and crown'd; the tempest Lord,

Were equal, and not worth the toil of hope.
The thunder-shaking Thor, twelve radiant stars
His coronet, and sceptred his right hand;

But over either army silence hung,
He on his stately couch reclining: fierce

Silence long, heavy, deep, as every heart In his mysterious multitude of signs,

Were busied with eternity; all thoughts Arminsul; and th' Unnameable,8 he fix'd

Were bidding farewell to the Sun, whose rise On his flint pedestal, his skeleton shape

They saw, whose setting they might never see. Garmented scantly in a winding-sheet,

And all the heavens were thinly overdrawn And in his hand a torch-blaze, meet to search With light and golden clouds, as though to couch Earth's utmost, while in act to spring, one hand The angels and the spirits Boating there, Upon his head, upon his shoulder one,

While heaven the lucid hierarchy pour’d forth

To view that solemn spectacle beneath, * Ceterum Arii super viros, quibus enumeratos paullo ante A Baile waged for freedom and for faith. populos antecedunt, truce insitæ feritati arte ac tempore lenocinantur ; nigra scuta, tincta corpora: atras ad prælia

First rose a clamour and a crowding rush noctes legunt: ipsaque formidine atque umbra feralis exerci:us On the hill side, and a half-stifled cry, terrorem inferunt, nullo hostium sustinente novum ac velut in- «The Prophetess! the Prophetess! was heard. fernum aspectum: nam primi in omnibus præliis oculi vincuntur, -TACIT. Germ. c. 43.

Upon a wagon, 'mid her idol Gods, t-et in proximo pignora : unde seminarum ululatus audiri, She of the seal'd lip and the haunted heart, unde vagitos infantium; hi cuique sanctissimi testes, hi maxi. The aged Virgini| sate; her thin grey

hair mi laudatores. Ad matres, ad conjuges vulnera ferunt: nec illa: numerare, aut exigere placas pavent. Cibosque et horta

| Verere apud Germanos more, quo plerasque feminarum mina pugnantibus gestant.- TACIT. Germ.

fatidicas, ne augcecente supereliliope arbitrantur deas.-TAC. | Verstegan.

Verstegan.
Hist. 4-61

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And hollow eyes in a strange sparkling steep'd : Fierce and direct he whirld to the hot charge
Twice in the memory of the oldest spake

His youthful Rider. Upright sate the Boy
Her voice, when Gothic Alaric had set

Arthur, at first with half reverted look, His northern ensign on Rome's shatter'd walls, As to his mother to impart his joy, That day along the linden-shadow'd Elbe

His transport. Early, oh fame-destined Child, She went, with bitter smile and broken song Puitst thou thy sickle in the field of fame. That mock'd at grandeur fall'n and pride in dust. Over his head a dome of fiery darts Once more, when Vortigern in that famed feast And cross-bow bolts vault o'er th’ encumber'd air. Crown'd the fierce Hengist ; in the German woods Yet forward swept the child his rapid charge, She roam'd with lofty and triumphal tone,

And all at once to rescue all the Chiefs Shrieking of sceptres dancing in her sight,

Rush'd onward: Uther's dragon seem'd to sear And Woden's sons endiadem'd that rose

The winds with its hot waving, Emrys struck
And swept and glitter'd past her. Now with eye His courser's reeking flanks, his weapon huge
Restless, and churning lip, she sate, and thrice Rear'd Vortimer, and Malwyn's wheels 'gan whirl.
She mutter'd—“Flighi! Flight! Flight!" Then look'd And on the other side Argantyr tall,
she out

Hengist and Horsa, all the titled brave,
Upon the orient Son, and cried, “ Down! down!" Burst from their tardy lines, that vast behind
Then westward turn'd she, and withdrew her hand, Came rolling in tumultuous order on;
From dallying with her loose and hanging chin, As when at spring-time under the cold pole
And beckond to the faint remaining haze

Two islands high of ice warp heavy and huge of twilight.“ Back, fair darkness, beauteous gloom, Upon the contrary currents, first th' assault Back!" Still the Sun came on, the shades dispellid. The promontories break, till meet the whole Then rose ghe up, then on the vacant space

With one long crash, that wakes the silence, there Between both armies fix'd her eye; half laugh,

Seated since time was born, far off and wide
Half agony her cheek relar'd." I see,

Rock'd by the conflict fierce old ocean boils.
I see ye, ye Invisible! I hear
Soundless, I hear ye! Choosers of the slain!

Still th’ upright Child seem'd only to rejoice
Ye of the white forms horsed on thunder clouds! In the curvetings of his wanton sleed,
Ye of Valhalla! colourless as air,

And in the mingled dazzling of bright arms.
As air impalpable! wind on and urge

But over him a shield is spread, before Your sable and self-govern'd steeds: They come, A sword is waved, on every side the shield They whom your mantling hydromel awaits, Dashes rude death aside, whirls everywhere Whose cups are crown'd, the guests of this night's feast. The rapid and unwearied sword; the rein They come, they come, for whom the Gods shall leap of the fleet steed hath Samor grasp'd, and guides From their cloud thrones, and ask ye whom ye bring Amid the turmoil. As when the eagle sire In stern troops crowding to their secret jny."

Up in the sunshine leads his daring young, She shook her low dropi lip, and thus went on:

Sometimes the dusk shade of his wing spreads o'er, «The bow is broken, and the shafts are snapt:

And soft and broken in through the thick plumes The lance is shiver'd, and the buckler rent;

Gleams the unblinding splendour. So secure The helm is cloven, and the plumes are shed;

Waged that sair Child his early war. But wild The horse hath founder'd, and the rider fallen; The wavering fray rock'd to and fro, and burnt The Crown'd are crownless, kingdomless the Kings; Like one huge furnare the quick-flashing plain. The Conquerors conquer'd, and the Slayers slain;

Ever as 't were the same the Apostle saw One falls not, but he shall not stand, the axe

In the Apocalypse, Death's own pale steed, Shall glean th' imperfect harvest of the sword;

Over the broad fighi shook the White Horse, spread The scaffold drinks the lees of batile's cup;

Where'er its gleaming lighten'd the dun gloom, And one is woundless amid myriad wounds,

Steamy and vast the curdling slaughter pools. And one is wounded where there is but one.

And such confusion burst around of lines Ho, for the broad-horn'd Elk that leads the herd.

Mingling and interchanging. Valour found Ho, for the Pine that tops the shallering wood!

No space for proud selection, forced to strike Ho, for the Bark that admirals all the feet!

What cumber'd and obstructed its free parh, The herd is scatter'd, and the Elk unscathed, To hew out through a mass of vulgar lile The wood is levell’il, upright is the Pine,

A passage to some princely foe; twice met The feet is wreck'd, the Admiral on the waves.

Horsa and Vorumer, Argantyr twice That Elk is in himself a sacrifice,

Smote at Pendrage, but the whirlpool fierc That Pine shall have a storm its own, that Bark

Asunder swept them, and the deep of war Shall perish in a solitary wreck.

Swallow'd them; many a broad and shapeless chasm A sacrifice of shame! a storm of dread!

Was rent in either batile, but new fronts A bitter ignominious solitude !"

Rush'd in, and made the shiver'd surface whole.

The sun was shut out by a sphere of dust She had not ended, when a single steed

That wrapt the tumult, it was no sight for Heaven Burst furious from the British line, with Alight That rending and defacing its prime work, That had a tread of air, and not of earth.

That waste of man, its masterpiece. But far

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