The slavery of kings thou hast not known,
What if thy wasted arms are bleeding yet,
And wounded with the fetter's cruel trace,
No earthly diadem has ever set
A stain upon thy face.

"Child, life and hope were with thee at thy birth,
But life soon bowed thy tender form to earth,
And hope forsook thee in thy hour of need.
Come, for thy Saviour had His pains divine;
Come, for His brow was crowned with thorns like thine,
His sceptre was a reed."

_Dublin University Magazine._



THE FEAST OF FREEDOM.

_("Lorsqu'a l'antique Olympe immolant l'evangile.")_

[Bk. II. v., 1823.]

[There was in Rome one antique usage as follows: On the eve of the
execution day, the sufferers were given a public banquet--at the prison
gate--known as the "Free Festival."--CHATEAUBRIAND'S "Martyrs."]


TO YE KINGS.