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To leave thee where the gentle and the brave, The loyal hearted and the chivalrous., And they that lov'd their God, have all been swept, Like the sere leaves, away.—For them no hearth Through the wide land was left inviolate, No altar holy; therefore did they fall, Rejoicing to depart.—The soil is steep'd In noble blood; the temples are gone down; The voice of prayer is hush'd, or fearfully Mutter'd, like sounds of guilt.—Why, who would live? Who hath not panted, as a dove, to flee, To quit for ever the dishonour'd soil, The burden'd air?—Our God upon the cross— Our king upon the scaffold —let us think