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And mothers with their infants, there to dwell In the deep forest or the cavern cel, And rear their offspring midst the rocks, to be, If now no more the mighty, still the free.

And midst that band are veterans, o'er whose head Sorrows and years their mingled snow have shed: They saw thy glory, they have wept thy fall, O royal city! and the wreck of all They loved and hallow'd most:—doth aught remain For these to prove of happiness or pain? Life's cup is drain'd—earth fades before their eye, Their task is closing—they have but to die. Ask ye, why fled they hither?—that their doom Might be, to sink unfetter'd to the tomb. And youth, in all its pride of strength, is there; And buoyancy of spirit, form'd to dare And suffer all things, fall'n on evil days, Yet darting o'er the world an ardent gaze, As on th' arena, where its powers may find Full scope to strive for glory with mankind. Such are the tenants of the mountain-hold, The high in heart, unconquer'd, uncontroll'd;