My Beautiful Lady. Nelly Dale
slaves: And now, when thousands blandly would deny The proven murderer his rope, the thief Due chastisement; and when a General May blunder troops to death, yea, and receive His Senate’s vote of thanks and all made smooth; And when, as much from universal trust p. 154In other states’ goodwill as from the pinch Of blinking parsimony, we our fleets Let rot, and regiments shrink to skeletons.— From those fell rights to such urbanity The march indeed is long; tho’ kindly freaks May sometimes clamour Justice from her throne; Yet gentleness is still a noble gain, And we will trust such freaks are nobly meant.

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To touch the power we hold, what work has been Of vigorous brawn, and keen contriving brains! Stout men with mighty battle in their limbs; Thinkers, whose cunning struck beyond the strength Of hosts; priests sworn to God, whose daily lives Preached gospel purity and kindliness; Wise chroniclers, whose patience garnered facts For present want and food for coming time; And dames who made their homes a paradise, And kept their husbands great;—have greatly given p. 155The light and choicest substance of their lives For generations mingling each with each, Wave multitudinously urging wave, Toward the one great broadening flow of things, Then passed into the gloom that swallows all.

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Could I dwell here in our proud Island Home, Preserved by countless victories; made strong By kings and kingly councillors; enriched By artisans, whose skill surpassed all men’s; And by such wondrous song immortalised It glorifies mankind: could I dwell here; Here feed on this accumulated wealth, Like senseless swine on acorns of the wood, And own no wish to render thanks in kind? Surely there could be found some waste wild flower To yield one honey-drop that I might drain To swell the general hive!

At last resolved Out to its utmost spray my force should strive, p. 156And bring to fruit its yet unopened buds, I, craving gracious aid of Heaven, straightway Began the work which shall be mine till death. If it be granted me that I disroot Some evil weeds; or plant a seed, which time Shall nourish to a tree of pleasant shade, To wearied limbs a boon, and fair to view; I then shall know the Hand that struck me down Has been my guide into the paths of truth.

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And She, my lost adored One, where is She? Where has She been throughout these dragging years Of labour?

She has been my light of life! The lustrous dawn and radiance of the day 
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