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Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness.
To her the tutelary Spirit said: “When luxury and lust's exhausted stores No more can rouse the appetites of kings ; When the low flattery of their reptile lords Falls flat and heavy on the accustomed ear; When eunuchs sing, and fools buffoonery make, And dancers writhe their harlot-limbs in vain ; Then War and all its dread vicissitudes Pleasingly agitate their stagnant hearts; Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats, Insipid royalty's keen condiment! Therefore uninjured and unprofited, (Victims at once and executioners)
The congregated husbandmen lay waste
The Maiden paused, musing what this might
But long time passed not, ere that brighter cloud
And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound.
The Slaves in the West-Indies consider death as passport to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of which the thoughts are better than the lan. guage in which they are conveyed.
"Ω σκότου πύλας, θάνατε, προλείπων
Αλλά και κύκλοισι χοροιτύποισι,
Δασκίοις επί πτερύγεσσι σήσι
Πατρίδ' επ' αίαν.
The infuriate spirits of the murdered make Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of Heaven. Warmed with new influence, the unwholesome plain Sent
up its foulest fogs to meet the morn: The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in blood !
“ Maiden beloved, and Delegate of Heaven! (To her the tutelary Spirit said,) Soon shall the morning struggle into day, The stormy morning into cloudless noon. Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand But this be thy best omen- -Save thy Country !” Thus saying, from the answering Maid he passed, And with him disappeared the heavenly Vision !
“ Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven! All conscious presence of the Universe !
"Evya uàv 'Epaotaì ’Epwpevnouv
Δεινά λέγοντι. .
Leaving the gates of darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a race yoked with misery! Thou wilt not be received with lacerations of cheeks, nor with funeral ululation—but with circling dances and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed, yet thou dwellest with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy dark pinions over the swelling of Ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of fountains, beneath citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, being men, they har! endured from men.
Nature's vast ever-acting energy!
And first a landscape rose More wild and waste and desolate than where The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous rage And savage agony.