Page:The Domestic Affections, and Other Poems.pdf/105



While firm in might, thy victor-arm extends, Death to thy foes, and succour to thy friends!

Thus potent Prospero's creative spell Bade the wild surge in mountain-fury swell; Call'd up the spirits of the raging deep, Arous'd the whirlwind, o'er the waves to sweep; But on th' enchanted isle, his fair domain, Rais'd the bright vision of the sylphid train; And bade soft notes, and fairy-warbled airs, Melt o'er the sense, and lull corroding cares!

Yet, Queen of Isles! tho' peace, with angel-form, Smile on thy cliffs, regardless of the storm; Favor'd of heaven! e'en thou, tho' distant far, Hast wept the horrors of relentless war; E'en thou hast mourn'd o'er many a hero's bier, Grac'd with thy laurels, hallow'd with thy tear! For those whose arms, whose blood preserv'd thee free, (Who would not bleed, O peerless isle! for thee?)