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185
THE WORLD'S EPIGRAM.
O Land of Freedom! well thou didst begin;A noble blazonry most nobly win:—
O Land of Freedom! it is strange, methinks,
Thy Stars should seem a chain of spiky links,
Thy Stripes, whip-printed on a human skin,
Thine Eagle sick, or else a dunghill bred,
(The blessed sun so disconcerts his eyes)—
That empty Cap inscribed as Liberty's,
A relic of the absent or the dead.
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