Poems by Robert Southey
page 6 of 130 (04%)
page 6 of 130 (04%)
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The heaven-blest sword of Liberty; thy sex
Could boast no female ROLAND'S martyrdom; No CORDE'S angel and avenging arm Had sanctified again the Murderer's name As erst when Caesar perish'd: yet some strains May even adorn this theme, befitting me To offer, nor unworthy thy regard. ROBERT SOUTHEY. The Subject of the following Poem may be found in the Third and Fourth Chapters of the first Book of Esdras. THE TRIUMPH of WOMAN. Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost To reach secure at length his native coast, Who wandering long o'er distant lands has sped, The night-blast wildly howling round his head, Known all the woes of want, and felt the storm Of the bleak winter parch his shivering form; The journey o'er and every peril past Beholds his little cottage-home at last, And as he sees afar the smoke curl slow, |
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