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Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers!
Blazon your mottos of blessing and prayer!
Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours!
Warble. O bugle, and trumpet, blare!
Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers!
Flaines, on the windy headland flare!
Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire!
Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air!
Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire!
Rush to the roof, sudden rocket, and higher
Melt into stars for the land's desire!

Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice,

Roll as a ground-swell dash'd on the strand,
Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land,
And welcome her, welcome the land's desire,
The sea-kings' daughter as happy as fair,
Blissful bride of a blissful heir,
Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea
O joy to the people and joy to the throne,
Come to us, love us, and make us your own:
For Saxon or Dane or Norman we,

Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be,

We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee,



no truer Time himself
he make you evermore
as the rapid of life

DEAR, near, and true -
Can prove you, tho'
Dearer and nearer,
Shoots to the fall take this and pray that he,
Who wrote it, honoring your sweet faith in him,
May trust himself; and spite of praise and scorn,
As one who feels the immeasurable world,
Attain the wise indifference of the wise;
And after Autumn past—if left to pass
His autumn into seeming-leafless days —
Draw toward the long frost and longest night,
Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the fruit
Which in our winter woodland looks a flower.

* The fruit of the Spindle-tree (Euonymus Faropœus).

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WHILE about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,

Far in the East Boädicéa, standing loftily charioted,

Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,

Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony CámuJodúne,

Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.

"They that scorn the tribes and call us Britain's barbarous populaces,

Did they hear me, would they listen, did they pity me supplicating?

Shall I heed them in their anguish? shall I brook to be supplicated?

Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant! Must their ever-ravening eagle's beak and talon annihilate us?

Tear the noble heart of Britain, leave it gorily quivering? Bark an answer, Britain's raven! bark and blacken innumerable,

Blacken round the Roman carrion, make the carcase a skeleton,

Kite and kestrel, wolf and wolf kin, from the wilderness. wallow in it,

Till the face of Bel be brighten'd, Taranis be propitiated. Lo their colony half-defended! lo their colony, Cámulodúne ! There the horde of Roman robbers mock at a barbarous adversary.

There the hive of Roman liars worship a gluttonous emperor-idiot.

Such is Rome, and this her deity: hear it, Spirit of Cássivelaún !

"Hear it, Gods! the Gods have heard it, O Icenian, O Coritanian!

Doubt not ye the Gods have answer'd, Catieuchlanian, Trinobant.

These have told us all their anger in miraculous utterances, Thunder, a flying fire in heaven, a murmur heard aërially, Phantom sound of blows descending, moan of an enemy massacred,

Phantom wail of women and children, multitudinous agonies. Bloodily flow'd the Tamesa rolling phantom bodies of horses and men;

Then a phantom colony smoulder'd on the refluent estuary; Lastly yonder yester-even, suddenly giddily tottering There was one who watch'd and told me down their

statue of Victory fell. Lo their precious Roman bantling, lo the colony Cámulodúne,

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Shall we teach it a Roman lesson? shall we care to be pitiful?

Shall we deal with it as an infant? shall we dandle it amorously?

"Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!

While I roved about the forest, long and bitterly meditating, There I heard them in the darkness, at the mystical ceremony,

Loosely robed in flying raiment, sang the terrible prophet


'Fear not, isle of blowing woodland, isle of silvery parapets! Tho' the Roman eagle shadow thee, tho' the gathering enemy narrow thee,

Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle, thou shalt be the mighty one yet!

Thine the liberty, thine the glory, thire the deeds to be


Thine the myriad-rolling ocean, light and shadow illimitable,

Thine the lands of lasting summer, many-blossoming Paradises,

Thine the North and thine the South and thine the battlethunder of God.'

So they chanted: how shall Britain light upon auguries happier?

So they chanted in the darkness, and there cometh a victory


"Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant!

Me the wife of rich Prasutagus, me the lover of liberty, Me they seized and me they tortured, me they lash'd and humiliated,

Me the sport of ribald Veterans, mine of ruffian violators ! See they sit, they hide their faces, miserable in ignominy! Wherefore in me burns an anger, not by blood to be satiated. Lo the palaces and the temple, lo the colony Cámulodúne! There they ruled, and thence they wasted all the flourishing territory,

Thither at their will they haled the yellow-ringleted Brit


Bloodily, bloodily fall the battle-axe, unexhausted, inexor. able.

Shout Icenian, Catieuchlanian, shout Coritanian, Trinobant, Till the victim hear within and yearn to hurry preciptiously Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd.

Lo the colony, there they rioted in the city of Cúnobelíne !

There they drank in cups of emerald, there at tables of ebony lay,

Rolling on their purple couches in their tender effeminacy. There they dwelt and their rioted; there there--they dwell no more.

Burst the gates, and burn the palaces, break the works of the statuary,

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Take the hoary Roman head and shatter it, hold it abominable,

Cut the Roman boy to pieces in his lust and voluptuousness, Lash the maiden into swooning, me they lash'd and humiliated,

Chop the breasts from off the mother, dash the brains of the little one out,

Up my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us."

So the Queen Boädicéa, standing loftily charioted, Brandishing in her hand a dart and rolling glances lionesslike,

Yell'd and shrieked between her daughters in her fierce volubility.

Till her people all around the royal chariot agitated,
Madly dash'd the darts together, writhing barbarous lineä-


Made the noise of frosty woodlands, when they shiver in January,

Roar'd as when the rolling breakers boom and blanch on the precipices,

Yell'd as when the winds of winter tear an oak on a prom


So the silent colony hearing her tumultuous adversarios Clash the darts and on the buckler beat with rapid unani

mous hand,

Thought on all her evil tyrannies, all her pitiless avarice,
Till she felt the heart within her fall and flutter tremulously,
Then her pulses at the clamoring of her enemy fainted away.
Out of evil evil flourishes, out of tyranny tyranny buds.
Ran the land with Roman slaughter, multitudinous agonies.
Perish'd many a maid and matron, many a valorous legion-


Fell the colony, city, and citadel, London, Verulam, Cámulodúne.




O MIGHTY-MOUTH'D inventor of harmonies,
O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,

God-gifted organ-voice of England,

Milton, a name to resound for ages;
Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,

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