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Why, men have cast the treasures, which their lives Had been worn down in gathering, on the pyre, Aye, at their household hearths have lit the brand, Ev'n from that shrine of quiet love to bear The flame which gave their temples and their homes, In ashes, to the winds!—They have done this, Making a blasted void where once the sun Look'd upon lovely dwellings; and from earth Razing all record that on such a spot Childhood hath sprung, age faded, misery wept, And frail Humanity knelt before her God; —They have done this, in their free nobleness, Rather than see the spoiler's tread pollute Their holy places!—Praise, high praise be theirs, Who have left man such lessons!—And these things, Made your own hills their witnesses!—The sky, Whose arch bends o'er you, and the seas, wherein