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VII.

Like rabid snakes, that sting some gentle child
Who brings them food, when winter false and fair
Allures them forth with its cold smiles, so wild
They rage among the camp ;-they overbear
The patriot hosts-confusion, then despair
Descends like night-when " Laon !" one did cry:
Like a bright ghost from Heaven that shout did

scare

The slaves, and, widening through the vaulted sky, Seemed sent from Earth to Heaven in sign of victory.

VIII.

In sudden panic those false murderers fled,
Like insect tribes before the northern gale :
But, swifter still, our hosts encompassed
Their shattered ranks, and in a craggy vale,
Where even their fierce despair might nought avail,
Hemmed them around!--and then revenge and
Made the high virtue of the patriots fail: [fear
One pointed on his foe the mortal spear-
I rushed before its point, and cried, " Forbear,
forbear!"

IX.

The spear transfixed my arm that was uplifted In swift expostulation, and the blood [gifted Gushed round its point: I smiled, and-"Oh! thou With eloquence which shall not be withstood, Flow thus !"-I cried in joy," thou vital flood, Until my heart be dry, ere thus the cause For which thou wert aught worthy be subduedAh, ye are pale,-ye weep,-your passions pause,"Tis well! ye feel the truth of love's benignant laws.

X.

"Soldiers, our brethren and our friends are slain. Ye murdered them, I think, as they did sleep! Alas, what have ye done? The slightest pain Which ye might suffer, there were eyes to weep; But ye have quenched them-there were smiles to steep

Your hearts in balm, but they are lost in woe; And those whom love did set his watch to keep Around your tents truth's freedom to bestow, Ye stabbed as they did sleep-but they forgive ye

now.

XI.

"O wherefore should ill ever flow from ill,
And pain still keener pain for ever breed?
We all are brethren-even the slaves who kill
For hire, are men; and to avenge misdeed
On the misdoer, doth but Misery feed
With her own broken heart! O Earth, O Heaven!
And thou, dread Nature, which to every deed
And all that lives, or is to be, hath given,
Even as to thee have these done ill, and are
forgiven.

XII.

"Join then your hands and hearts, and let the past
Be as a grave which gives not up its dead
To evil thoughts."-A film then overcast
My sense with dimness, for the wound, which bled
Freshly, swift shadows o'er mine eyes had shed.
When I awoke, I lay 'mid friends and foes,
And earnest countenances on me shed
The light of questioning looks, whilst one did close
My wound with balmiest herbs, and soothed me
to repose;

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