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SONNET.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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SONNET.

The whirlwind raged o'er land and ocean far,
And heaved to heaven the billows of the main,
And swept the emerald forest of the plain,
In one unvaried blast of elemental war.
And, 'mid the tempest, blackening o'er the sky,
The centenary oak in vigour stood,
And spread his hundred arms unto the flood,
Defiance bid, and towered in majesty.
But lo! the giant on the mountain side
Shivered and shattered, in confusion lies,
With trunk and branches wheeling thro' the skies,
Where wrath and terror in their triumph ride.

64

Yet, O imperial Ruin! it were wise
To be, like thee, by mighty whirlwind broke,
And lie in majesty beneath the stroke,
Of heaven's dire thunderbolt from fiery skies,
Rather than bow exemption dear to crave,
Like the vile osier bending to the wind;
More wise it is to die, and leave a name behind,
Than fawn—and couch—and be a despot's slave.