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ning at his pleasure? The same Being who gave to you a country on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us; and by this title we will defend it," said the warrior, throwing down his tomahawk upon the ground and raising the war-sound of his nation. These are the feelings of subjugated man all round the globe; and, depend upon it, nothing but fear will control where it is vain to look for affection.

4. You have a mighty sway in Asia, which cannot be maintained by the finer sympathies of life, or the practice of its charities and affections. What will they do for you when surrounded by two hundred thousand men with artillery, cavalry, and elephants, calling upon you for their dominions, which you have robbed them of?

5. If England, from a lust of ambition and dominion, will insist on maintaining despotic rule over distant and hostile nations, beyond all comparison more numerous and extended than herself, and gives commission to her viceroys to govern them with no other instruction than to preserve them, and to secure permanently their revenues, with what color of consistency or reason can she place herself in the moral chair, and affect to be shocked at the execution of her own orders; adverting to the exact measure of wickedness and injustice necessary to their execution, and complaining only of the excess as the immorality; considering her authority as a dispensation for breaking the commands of God, and the breach of them as only punishable when contrary to the ordinances of man?

6. Such a proceeding, gentlemen, begets serious reflection It would be better, perhaps, for the masters and the servants of all such governments to join in supplication, that the great Author of violated humanity may not confound them together in one common judgment.





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HE old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;

'Pull, if ye never pulled before!

Good ringers, pull your best!" quoth he. Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells! Ply all your changes, all your swells,Play uppe The Brides of Enderby!''



I sat and spun within the doore;

My thread brake off, I raised myne eyes; The level sun, like ruddy ore,

Lay sinking in the barren skies;

And dark against day's golden death
She moved where Lindis wandereth,—
My sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth.


"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling
Ere the early dews were falling,
Farre away I heard her song.
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along
Where the reedy Lindis floweth,

Floweth, floweth ;

From the meads where melick groweth,
Faintly came her milking-song.


"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
"For the dews will soone be falling;
Leave your meadow grasses mellow.
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;

Come uppe, Whitefoot; come uppe, Lightfoot,
Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow,-
From the clovers lift your head;

Come uppe, Whitefoot; come uppe, Lightfoot;

Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed."


Alle fresh the level pasture lay,
And not a shadowe mote be seene,
Save where, full fyve good miles away,
The steeple towered from out the greene;
And lo! the great bell farre and wide
Was heard in all the country-side,
That Saturday at eventide.


I looked without, and lo! my sonne
Came riding downe with might and main;
He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again,—

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)


"The olde sea-wall (he cried) is downe;

The rising tide comes on apace,

And boats adrift in yonder towne

Go sailing uppe the market-place.”

He shook as one that looks on death: "God save you, mother!" straight he saith; "Where is my wife, Elizabeth?"


"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away, With her two bairns I marked her long;

And ere yon bells beganne to play,

Afar I heard her milking-song."

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With that he cried and beat his breast;
For lo! along the river's bed

A mighty eygre* reared his crest,
And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
It swept with thunderous noises loud,-
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud.


So farre, so fast the eygre drave,
The heart had hardly time to beat
Before a shallow, seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at our feet:
The feet had hardly time to flee
Before it brake against the knee,
And all the world was in the sea.


Upon the roofe we sate that night,
The noise of bells went sweeping by;

I marked the lofty beacon-light

Stream from the church-tower, red and high,A lurid mark and dread to see;

And awesome bells they were to me,

That in the dark rang "Enderby."


They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed;

And I-my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;

And yet he moaned beneath his breath, "O, come in life, or come in death!

O, lost! my love, Elizabeth!"

* Eygre (a'-gur), an immense tidal wave,


And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare; The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.


That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;
A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To many more than myne and me:
But each will mourn his own (she saith),
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.


I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews be falling,—
I shall never hear her song,
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along

Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
Goeth, floweth,

From the meads where melick groweth,
Where the water, winding down,

Onward floweth to the town.


I shall never see her more

Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Shiver, quiver;

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy, lonesome shore.

JEAN INGELOW-abridged.

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