.MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 157 Your halls are uo longer the homes of the free, And, therefore, no more a meet shelter for me; Your songs breathe, no longer, sweet liberty's cheer, And, therefore, are music no more to mine ear. I look on the waves, and behold there the cure Of the woes I have past, of the ills I endure; Death wooes me; but, no ! it is prouder to live, P, evenge ! but 'tis nobler by far to forgive. That they have subdued me, oh, let them not boast I have conquer'd myself, who have conquer'd a host This, this my revenge; and my triumph shall be My last dying prayer for thy tyrants, and thee ! THE TEAR. THE?'Z is a joy, a lonely t?ar, By none beheld, to none reveal'd, To every feeling heart more dear Than all that wealth, or power can yield. ......... ?Google
�
