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Which bathed Columbia's shores, ere, on the strand

Of Europe, or of Africa, their continents,

Or sea-girt isles, it chafes.

. O, would to heaven

That in midway between these sever'd worlds

Rose barriers, all impassable to man,

Cutting off intercourse, till either side

Had lost all memory of the other!

. What spur now goads thy warm imagination?

. Then might, perhaps, one land on earth be found,

Free from th' extremes of poverty and riches;

Where ne'er a scepter'd tyrant should be known,

Or tyrant lordling, curses of creation;—

Where the faint shrieks of woe-exhausted age,

Raving, in feeble madness, o'er the corse

Of a polluted daughter, stained by lust

Of viand-pampered luxury, might ne'er be heard;

Where the blasted form of much abused

Beauty, by villany seduced, by knowledge

All unguarded, might ne'er be viewed, flitting

Obscene, 'tween lamp and lamp, i' th' midnight street

Of all-defiling city; where the child—

. Hold! Shroud thy raven imagination.

Torture not me with images so curst!

. Soon shall our foes, inglorious, fly these shores.

Peace shall again return. Then Europe's ports

Shall pour a herd upon us, far more fell

Than those, her mercenary sons, who now

Threaten our sore chastisement.

. Prophet of ill,

From Europe shall enriching commerce flow,

And many an ill attendant; but from thence

Shall likewise flow blest science. Europe's knowledge,

By sharp experience bought, we should appropriate;

Striving thus to leap from that simplicity,

With ignorance curst, to that simplicity,

By knowledge blest; unknown the gulf between.

. Mere theoretic dreaming.

. Blest wisdom

Seems, from out the chaos of the social world,

Where good and ill in strange commixture float,

To rise, by strong necessity impell'd;

Starting, like Love divine, from womb of Night,

Illuming all, to order all reducing;

And showing by its bright and noontide blaze

That happiness alone proceeds from justice.

. Dreams, dreams! Man can know naught but ill on earth.

. I 'll to my bed, for I have watch'd all night;

And may my sleep give pleasing repetition

Of these my waking dreams! Virtue's incentives.

(Exit.)

. Folly's chimeras rather: guides to error.

. Pacquets for the General.

(Exit.)

. Seward, my friend!

. Captain, I 'm glad to see the hue of health

Sit on a visage from the sallow south.

. The lustihood of youth hath yet defied

The parching sun, and chilling dew of even.

The General— Seward—?

. I will lead you to him.

. Seward, I must make bold. Leave us together,

When occasion offers. 'T will be friendly.

. I will not cross your purpose.

(Exeunt.)

. Yes, ever be this day a festival

In my domestic calendar. This morn

Will see my husband free. Even now, perhaps,

Ere yet Aurora flies the eastern hills,

Shunning the sultry sun, my Bland embarks.

Already, on the Hudson's dancing wave,

He chides the sluggish rowers, or supplicates