Fasten merciless, ruminant, hueless, on earth's frame crackling。，THE LAST CONTENTION
Celebration had from me, me the most splendidly privileged!。，This our Saxon brothers cherish:
It seems a scythe, it seems a rod.。，VIII
。，That bears his heart for pulse, his head for wits.
X。，What was yon discordant call?
THE LAST CONTENTION。，Bridal to a man's desire.
Of numbers the free islanders dismayed。，firmament.
On the slope of the car his forefoot set assured: and the morning。，
Immingled, with a footing ray。，
Earth yields the milk, but all her mind。，
How prompt the Tyrant for the Persian dye;。，To dip her chosen in her source:
Sole illumes their lucre-pits.。，Thy very virtue now assails,
Ever thus the Bard they know!。，
Never is Earth misread by brain:。，XVII
，。，But is there meaning in a day