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Gentleman's Magazine 1821 part 2 p.458
It has been grasp'd by an infernal Power;
And by that hand which seal'd young Enghein's fate.
Lady, reject the gift: beneath it's lid
Discord, and Slaughter, and relentless War,
With every plague to wretched Man lie hid -
Let those not loose to range the world afar.
Say, what congenial to his heart of stone,
in thy soft bosom could the Tyrant trace?
When does the dove the eagle's friendship own,
Or the wolf hold the lamb in pure embrace?
Think of that pile*, to Addison so dear,
Where Sully feasted, and where Rogers' song
Still adds sweet music to the perfum'd air,
And gently leads each Grace and Muse along.
Pollute not then these scenes - the gift destroy:
'Twill scare the Dryads from that lovely shade;
With them will fly all rural peace and joy,
And screamiong Fiends their verdant haunts invade.
That mystic Box hath magic power to raise
Spectres of myriads slain, a ghastly band;
They'll vex thy slumbers, cloud thy sunny days,
Starting from Moscow's snows, or Egypt's sand.
And ye, who, bound in Verdun's treacherous chains,
Slow pin'd to death beneath a base controul,
Say, shall not all abhor, where Freedom reigns,
That petty vengeance of a little soul?
The warning Muse no idle trifler deem;
Plunge the curst mischief in wide Ocean's flood;
Or give it to our own majestic stream,
The only stream he could not die with blood.
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