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Under thy God-given light
Our fathers went forth to fight
'Gainst sceptred wrong for the right-
Hail, hail to thee !
The Lion of England no more
'Gainst thy proud Eagle shall roar
Peace strideth from shore to shore —
Hail, hail to thee !
Float forth, thou flag of the free —
Flash far over land and sea,
Till the world shout, Liberty —
Hail, hail to thee !
CXLIX.
BROKEN
" Saepius ventis agitatur ingens
Pinus : et celsae graviore casu
Decidunt turres. — Horace. Ode 10, Lib.
Ah, me ! what themes for mournful rhyme
Wake at this word — the epitaph of Time.
Look back, look round, look on, and read it there.
In all the forms which highest art declare ;
See it in hopes, in aspirations riven —
Strewed o'er the earth that once arose to heaven.
The arch is broken ! On its firm embrace
For ages rested what you yet can trace
Of fretted roof and dim cathedral aisle.
Once massed in grandeur, now a fallen pile ;
One shattered arm aloft in air you greet.
The other lies in fragments at your feet.

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