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Forego thy keys of gold,

The pearly gates unfold,
Cephas, thy mansioners must now be free.

Not all on high who bide,

Shall grace the judge's side;
When, the new earth reclad in bridal glee,

On clouds of heav'n majestic riding, He comes to wake the dead, the dooms of men deciding.

Whether for Constantine,

Or that mysterious Trine,
Which ranks the prophet with the Only Lord;

Or for that Dominique,

Whose cruel heat oblique
Steep'd writhing infidels in flames abhorr'd;

Or for those priests the wed-bed who renounce, Flows the wrath-vial now—what mortal may pronounce.

The star that told his birth, Who taught a heedless earth How might be won the beamy home of bliss, The queen of heav'n forlorn

From her high front hath torn; Hurling its glories to the foul abyss,

In meet eclipse, while the arch-fiend of God, Loos'd from his searing chains, shall wield the sov'reign rod.

The thousand years are past

For which his bonds should last,
Again he strolls abroad and roars amain;

"There is no God," he cries,

While impious shouts arise, And laughiug crouds appla id the hell-taught strain.

tt No God," with lips unpalsied they declare; 'Tossing their brands against the scorned domes of prayer*

Torn from its altar-stand

With sacrilegious hand,
The chalice scatters its forbidden wine:

On mystic wafers, flung

In scorn by heaps of dung,
And human flesh, dogs of the miscreants dine:

And him who on the crucifix expir'd,
They hoot a felon fool by fellow fools admir'd.

Was it for these accurst,

Great Angelo, that erst
Thy chisel bad the moving marble preach?

That Raphael was not loth

The storied wall to cloathe
With those pure charities, which vainly teach?

That Pergolesi told the mother's woe in wringing tones so sooth that seraphs lean'd to know t

As, when o'er guilty towns

Jehovah's anger frowns,
Deep bellowings thro' the nigh volcano writhe;

While priests with fault'ring tread,'

Their pale processions lead,
And shudder at their proper temple's highth:

So was the holy city all aghast,
When through its rifled walls the stranger ruffians pasL

The saintly father flies
To close his fading eyes,

Where yet the lonely olive strives to grow:

Not the tiara's band,

Or harmless crosier'd hand,
Would now forfehd him from th' assassin's blow.

Haste to the tomb! it waits thee long;
Thou art of purer eyes than to behold this wrong.

Avenging plagues of war

Affright the world afar;
The ranged ranks to loud-blown trumpets wheel:

The steeds so proudly dight,

Are pawing for the fight;
The spear is fasten'd to the tube of steel:

The widow's shriek, the orphan's tear,
For the town-shatt'ring cannon's roar, is hard to hear*

Lo! the fell devil-forms

That play amid the storms—
Plunder, who tears from Industry his all;

Rape, who delights to rush

Where beams the virgin's blush;
Murder scarce waiting for Suspicion's call,

Ere in the bishop's hoary hair
His grappling fist is fixt, his lifted poignard bare.

But not for aye shall reign

The hell-disgorged train:
Ye will return to lift the bruised reed,

Who, learn'd of Jesus' tongue,

To pardon human wrong,
Cheer the shorn lamb, and bind the wounds that bleed.

Immortal Mercy dwells in safe retrea'.,
And back to the sad toil shall wend her pilgrim feet.

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Then all the angel train

Shall visit earth again;
And Michael bind the dragon's strength anew:

While the taught nations bend,

In holier pray'r to blend,
And purer, heav'n-atoning rites renew.

Force-shunning Freedom (hall appear
To guard the teacher's hall, the ruin'd pile to rear.

Long absent Justice then

Shall back return to men, With meas'ring look her scales and compass minding;

And Peace, with myrtle wand,

Shall take no fleeting stand,
From either foot her turtle-wings unbinding;

And orb a rainbow through the azure sky,
In token that the tempest-clouds are now gone by.

So when the seven-mouth'd tide

Withdraws his waters wide,
And feeds his scaly flocks in narrower vale;

Emerging groves are seen,

Enrob'd in springing green,
To branch beside the dike-bound city's pale:

And as the oozy billows sink, Young flow'rs and waving blades dance on the fragrant brink.

Far from their impious dens, Within the Memphian fanes,
The greedy crocodiles in fear are swum:To rinse the marble floor, From ling'ring slime impure,
With pearled wrist the bathing maidens comes

And joyous crouds with sport and song, Stroll where the levelling stream trail'd its slow width along.


Hail to the trumpet's blast!
That calls bright Valour to the tented field—*

O'er Albion's hills the martial clangour past,
Whilst rung the stern alarm from many an echoing
Break off the festal strain;—no more

Shall Love the Warriors arms entwine;Bid Pomp her pageant state give o'er, And Peace her silver reign resign.
To gay delights, and amorous hours,
And Pleasure's rites, 'midst wanton bow'rs,
The dreadful note of War succeeds,
The shout of men, the neigh of steeds,
The drum's deep murmuring on the sullen gale;Where late the smiling Graces trod,
The helmet's plumy terrors nod,
And gleams the vengeful mail.

Freedom! to thee we consecrate the toil;
Thy spirit prompts us, and thy flame inspires;

No victor's rage, no kingdom's tempting spoil,
Wakes the wide ruin of Ambition's fires:
Light of the Soul! for thee we brave
The whelming surge of Danger's wave;
For thee, the seraph Peace, we shun,
So lately wooed, so lately won:

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