God save the Queen!

Let the oppressor hold
Canopied seats of gold;
She sits enthroned of old

O'er our hearts Queen.

VI.

Lips touched by seraphim
Breathe out the choral hymn

"God save the Queen!

Sweet as if angels sang,

Loud as that trumpet's clang

Wakening the world's dead gang, -
God save the Queen!

Fragment: Rome and

Nature

OME

has fallen, ye see it

lying

Heaped in undistinguished ruin:

Nature is alone undying.

Sonnet: England in 1819

N old, mad, blind, despised, and

dying king,

race, who flow

Through public scorn, -mud from a muddy

spring,

Rulers who never see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a
blow, -

A people starved and stabbed in the untilled

An army, which liberticide and prey

Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and

slay;

Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; A Senate, - Time's worst statute unrepealed,

Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom

may

Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.

Fragment: Forebodings

S not to-day enough? Why do I peer

Into the darkness of the day to

come?

Is not to-morrow even as yesterday?

And will the day that follows change thy doom?

Few flowers grow upon thy wintry way;

And who waits for thee in that cheerless home

Whence thou hast fled, whither thou must

return

Charged with the load that makes thee faint

and mourn?

RISE, arise, arise!

There is blood on the earth that

denies ye bread;

Be your wounds like eyes

To weep for the dead, the dead, the dead.

What other grief were it just to pay ?

Your sons, your wives, your brethren, were

they ;

Who said they were slain on the battle day?

Awaken, awaken, awaken!

The slave and the tyrant are twin-born foes;

Be the cold chains shaken

To the dust where your kindred repose,

repose:

Their bones in the grave will start and

move,

When they hear the voices of those they

love,

Most loud in the holy combat above.

Wave, wave high the banner! When Freedom is riding to conquest by: Though the slaves that fan her

Be Famine and Toil, giving sigh for sigh. And ye who attend her imperial car, Lift not your hands in the banded war, But in her defence whose children ye are.

Glory, glory, glory,

To those who have greatly suffered and done!

Never name in story

Was greater than that which ye shall have

won.

Conquerors have conquered their foes alone,