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There's more in one soft word of thine,
Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,
Its boughs above a monument.
The winds might rend-the skies might pour, But there thou wert-and still wouldst be Devoted in the stormiest hour
To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.
But thou and thine shall know no blight,
For heaven in sunshine will requite
Then let the ties of baffled love
Be broken-thine will never break; Thy heart can feel-but will not move; Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.
And these, when all was lost beside,
Earth is no desert-ev'n to me.
[FROM THE FRENCH.]
We do not curse thee, Waterloo!
Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew;
There 'twas shed, but is not sunk
Rising from each gory trunk,
Like the Water-spout from ocean,
Never yet was heard such thunder
As then shall shake the world with wonder
Never yet was seen such lightning,
As o'er heaven shall then be bright'ning!
Turning rivers into blood. (6)
The Chief has fallen, but not by you,
Vanquishers of Waterloo!
When the soldier citizen
Sway'd not o'er his fellow men-
With that youthful chief competed?
Who would men by man enthral!
And thou too of the snow-white plume!
Better hadst thou still been leading
Such as he of Naples wears,
Once-as the Moon sways o'er the tide,
So moved his heart upon our foes.
While the broken line enlarging
O'er glories gone the invaders march,
With her heart in her voice;
But, her hand on her sword,
Doubly shall she be adored;
France hath twice too well been taught
Her Safety sits not on a throne,
With Capet or Napoleon!
But in equal rights and laws,
Hearts and hands in one great causé→→→→
Freedom, such as God hath given
Unto all beneath his heaven,
With their breath, and from their birth, Though Guilt would sweep it from the earth;
With a fierce and lavish hand
Scattering nations' wealth like sand;
Pouring nations' blood like water,
In imperial seas of slaughter!