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: 123 While proud oppression in her valleys reigns, And tyranny usurps her happy plains ? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The redd’ning orange and the swelling grain : Joyless he fees the growing oils and wines, And in the myrtle’s fragrant shade repines; Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst, And in the loaden vineyard dies of thirst.
In vengeance rous'd, the soldier fills his hand
The Palace of Ice.
THE PALACE OF ICE.
........is ... No forest fell, Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, When thou wouldst build-no quarry fent its
stores T'enrich thy walls: but thou didst hew the floods, And make thy marble of the glaffy wave. Silently as a dream the fabric rose; No sound of hammer or of saw was there : Ice upon ice, the well adjusted parts Were soon conjoin'd; nor other cement ask'd, Than water interfus'd to make them one. Lamps gracefully dispos’d, and of all hues, Illumin'd ev'ry Gde: a watry light , Gleam'd thro' the clear transparency, that seem'd Another moon new-risen, or meteor fall’n From heaven to earth, of harmless flame serene. Șo stood the brittle prodigy; tho' smooth And Nipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within That royal residence might well befit, For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths
Liberty. Of flowers, that fear'd no enemy but' warınth, Blush'd on the pannels. Mirror needed none Where all was glaffy; but in order due Convivial table and commodious seat (What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there; Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august, The 'fame lubricity was sound in all, And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream, And foon to flide into a stream again.
O LIBERTY, thou goddess heav'nly bright,
126 Patristism.-Cato. With citron groves adorn a distant foil, And the fat olive swell with floods of oil: We envy not the warmer clime that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent skies : 'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's ille, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile.
BEYOND or love's or friendship’s facred band,
....... Thou hast seen mount Atlas: While storms and tempests thunder on its brows, And ocean breaks its billows at its feet,
It stands unmov’d, and glories in its height. Such is that haughty man: his tow’ring soul, * 'Midst ail the shocks and injuries of Fortune, Rises superior, and looks down on Cæsar.
E'en when proud Cæsar, ʼmidst triumphal cars,
Nor Fame I Night, nor for her favours call;