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A gorgeous, heartfelt, atmospheric novel by a wonderful storyteller' LUCY ATKINS'A beautifully moving portrait of youth, friendship and love . . . I loved it' MIKE GAYLE'Beautifully written, funny and wise . . . heart-breaking and heart-warming' ALEXANDRA POTTER*Pre-order the brand new novel from Sunday Times bestselling author Freya North* When your present meets your past, what do you take with you - and what do you leave behind?Eadie Browne is an odd child with unusual parents, living in a strange house neighbouring the local cemetery. Bullied at school - but protected by her two best friends, Celeste and Josh, and her many imaginary friends lying six feet under next door - Eadie muddles her way through.Arriving in Manchester as a student in the late 1980s, Eadie confronts a busy, gritty Victorian metropolis a far cry from the small Garden City she's left behind. Soon enough she experiences a novel freedom she never imagined and it's seductive. She can be who she wants to be, do as she pleases, and no one back home needs to know. As Manchester embraces the dizzying, colourful euphoria of Rave counterculture, Eadie is swept along, blithely ignoring danger and reality. Until, one night, her past comes hurtling at her with ramifications which will continue into her adult life.Now, as the new millennium beckons, Eadie is turning thirty with a marriage in tatters. She must travel back to where she once lived for a funeral she can't quite comprehend. As she journeys from the North to the South, from the present to the past, Eadie contemplates all that was then - and all that is now - in this moving love letter to youth.PRAISE FOR FREYA NORTH:'A terrific family drama of secrets . . . and so cleverly plotted' Graham Norton'A completely compelling story of family secrets, courage and resilience' Fearne Cotton'Immensely enjoyable . . . infused with empathy and a great sense of place' Erica James'What a treat. This filled my heart with joy and occasionally my eyes with tears; it is beautiful' Prima

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTING Thick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars!Long yet your road, fateful flag¿long yet your road, and lined with bloody death,For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads greedy banner;Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt unrival'd?O hasten flag of man¿O with sure and steady step, passing highest flags of kings,Walk supreme to the heavens mighty symbol¿run up above them all,Flag of stars! thick-sprinkled bunting! BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS! Beat! beat! drums!¿blow! bugles! blow!Through the windows¿through doors¿burst like a ruthless force,Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,Into the school where the scholar is studying;Leave not the bridegroom quiet¿no happiness must he have now with his bride,Not the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,So fierce you whirr and pound you drums¿so shrill you bugles blow. Beat! beat! drums!¿blow! bugles! blow!Over the traffic of cities¿over the rumble of wheels in the streets;Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,No bargainers' bargains by day¿no brokers or speculators¿would theycontinue?Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?Then rattle quicker, heavier drums¿you bugles wilder blow. Beat! beat! drums!¿blow! bugles! blow!Make no parley¿stop for no expostulation,Mind not the timid¿mind not the weeper or prayer,Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties,Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,So strong you thump O terrible drums¿so loud you bugles blow.

"The Pilgrim's Progress" is a Christian allegory written by John Bunyan, a Puritan preacher and writer, and first published in 1678. It is one of the most famous and widely read books in the English language. The full title of the work is "The Pilgrim's Progress from This World to That Which Is to Come; Delivered under the Similitude of a Dream.""The Pilgrim's Progress" tells the story of a character named Christian who embarks on a journey from the "City of Destruction" to the "Celestial City" (Heaven). The narrative is an allegory of the Christian life, representing the struggles and challenges believers face as they seek salvation and eternal life.Christian encounters various characters and obstacles along his journey, each representing different aspects of the Christian experience. Some notable characters include Evangelist, Worldly Wiseman, Faithful, and Hopeful. The story is rich with symbolism and reflects Bunyan's deep understanding of Christian theology and his own spiritual journey.

THE INN OF DREAMSSweet Laughter! Sweet Delight! My heart is like a lighted Inn that waits Your swift approach . . . and at the open gates White Beauty stands and listens like a flower. She has been dreaming of you in the night, O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright. Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour! Even as when a golden flame up-curled Quivers and flickers out in a dark place, So is it with the flame of Beauty's face¿That torch! that rose! that wonder of the world! And Love shall weep to see¿when he rides by Years hence (the time shall seem as a bird's flight)¿A lonely Inn beneath a winter sky. Come now, sweet friends! before the summer die. Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!

About the year 1834, when the earliest of the Sketches by Boz were appearing in print, a young composer named John Hullah set to music a portion of an opera calledThe Gondolier, which he thought might prove successful on the stage. Twelve months later Hullah became acquainted with Charles Dickens, whose name was then unknown to those outside his own immediate circle, and it occurred to him that he and ¿Boz¿ might combine their forces by converting The Gondolier into a popular play. Dickens, who always entertained a passion for the theatre, entered into the project at once, and informed Hullah that he had a little unpublished story by him which he thought would dramatise well¿even better than The Gondolier notion; confessing that he would rather deal with familiar English scenes than with the unfamiliar Venetian environment of the play favoured by Hullah. The title of The Gondolier was consequently abandoned, and a novel subject found and put forward as The Village Coquettes, a comic opera of which songs, duets, and concerted pieces were to form constituent parts. Dickens, of course, became responsible for the libretto and Hullah for the music; and when completed the little play was offered to, and accepted by, Braham, the lessee of the St. James¿s Theatre, who expressed an earnest desire to be the first to introduce ¿Boz¿ to the public as a dramatic writer. A favourite comedian of that day, John Pritt Harley, after reading the words of the opera prior to its representation, declared it was ¿a sure card,¿ and felt so confident of its success that he offered to wager ten pounds that it would run fifty nights!¿an assurance which at once decided Braham to produce it.

THE LONELY DANCER I had no heart to join the dance, I danced it all so long agöAh! light-winged music out of France, Let other feet glide to and fro, Weaving new patterns of romance For bosoms of new-fallen snow. But leave me thus where I may hear The leafy rustle of the waltz, The shell-like murmur in my ear, The silken whisper fairy-false Of unseen rainbows circling near, And the glad shuddering of the walls. Another dance the dancers spin, A shadow-dance of mystic pain, And other partners enter in And dance within my lonely brain¿The swaying woodland shod in green, The ghostly dancers of the rain; The lonely dancers of the sea, Foam-footed on the sandy bar, The wizard dance of wind and tree, The eddying dance of stream and star; Yea, all these dancers tread for me A measure mournful and bizarre: An echo-dance where ear is eye, And sound evokes the shapes of things, Where out of silence and a sigh The sad world like a picture springs, As, when some secret bird sweeps by, We see it in the sound of wings.

THE JOURNEY OF LIFE Beneath the waning moon I walk at night, And muse on human life¿for all around Are dim uncertain shapes that cheat the sight, And pitfalls lurk in shade along the ground, And broken gleams of brightness, here and there, Glance through, and leave unwarmed the death-like air. The trampled earth returns a sound of fear¿A hollow sound, as if I walked on tombs! And lights, that tell of cheerful homes, appear Far off, and die like hope amid the glooms. A mournful wind across the landscape flies, And the wide atmosphere is full of sighs. And I, with faltering footsteps, journey on, Watching the stars that roll the hours away, Till the faint light that guides me now is gone, And, like another life, the glorious day Shall open o'er me from the empyreal height, With warmth, and certainty, and boundless light.

I. Youth. Sweet empty sky of June without a stain, Faint, gray-blue dewy mists on far-off hills, Warm, yellow sunlight flooding mead and plain, That each dark copse and hollow overfills; The rippling laugh of unseen, rain-fed rills, Weeds delicate-flowered, white and pink and gold, A murmur and a singing manifold. The gray, austere old earth renews her youth With dew-lines, sunshine, gossamer, and haze. How still she lies and dreams, and veils the truth, While all is fresh as in the early days! What simple things be these the soul to raise To bounding joy, and make young pulses beat, With nameless pleasure finding life so sweet. On such a golden morning forth there floats, Between the soft earth and the softer sky, In the warm air adust with glistening motes, The mystic winged and flickering butterfly, A human soul, that hovers giddily Among the gardens of earth's paradise, Nor dreams of fairer fields or loftier skies.

"The Kasîdah of Hâjî Abdû El-Yezdî" is a long poem written by Sir Richard Francis Burton, a British explorer, linguist, and writer. The Kasîdah, also known as "The Lay of the Higher Law," was written in the style of the classical Arabic qasida, a poetic form often used to express moral or philosophical themes.Key features of "The Kasîdah":Philosophical and Theological Themes: Burton's poem delves into philosophical and theological themes, exploring ideas related to existence, destiny, and the nature of the divine.Pseudonymous Authorship: The poem is attributed to a fictitious author, Hâjî Abdû El-Yezdî, allowing Burton to present his own thoughts and reflections in a different cultural and religious context.Cultural Exploration: Burton, known for his extensive travels and studies in the Middle East, drew on his experiences and knowledge of Islamic culture and literature to compose the Kasîdah.Versification: The poem is written in quatrains with a rhyming scheme, adhering to the traditional structure of the qasida.Translation and Commentary: Burton also provided translations and commentaries on the poem, offering readers insights into the cultural and linguistic aspects of the work."The Kasîdah" is considered one of Burton's significant literary contributions, showcasing his linguistic skills and his ability to engage with diverse cultural and philosophical traditions.

"The Indian Girl's Lament" is a poem written by William Cullen Bryant, an American poet and journalist. As of my last knowledge update in January 2022, I don't have the full text of this specific poem available. However, I can offer some general information about Bryant and the themes commonly found in his poetry.William Cullen Bryant (1794¿1878) was known for his nature poetry and his deep appreciation for the American landscape. He was associated with the American Romantic movement and was influential in the development of American literature during the 19th century.If "The Indian Girl's Lament" is a lesser-known or niche work, you may find it in collections of Bryant's poetry or anthologies of American literature. Libraries, bookstores, or online platforms that specialize in classic literature would be good places to explore.

Essence of boredom! stupefying Theme! Whereon with eloquence less deep than full, Still maundering on in slow continuous stream, All can expatiate, and all be dull: Bane of the mind and topic of debate That drugs the reader to a restless doze, Thou that with soul-annihilating weight Crushest the Bard, and hypnotisest those Who plod the placid path of plain pedestrian Prose: Lo! when each morn I carefully peruse (Seeking some subject for my painful pen) The Times, the Standard, and the Daily News, No other topic floats into my ken Save this alone: or Dr. Clifford slates Dogmas in general: or the dreadful ban Of furious Bishops excommunicates Such simple creeds as Birrell, hopeful man! Thinks may perhaps appease th¿ unwilling Anglican.Lo! at Society¿s convivial board (Whereat I do occasionally sit, In hope to bear within my memory stored Some echo thence of someone else¿s wit),Or e¿er the soup hath yielded to the fish,A heavy dulness doth the banquet freeze: Lucullus¿ self would shun th¿ untasted dishWhen lovely woman whispers, ¿Tell me, please,What are Denominational Facilities?¿

Since we have had no stories to-night I will venture, Mr. President, to tell a story that I have heretofore heard at nearly all the banquets I have ever attended. It is a story simply, and you must bear with it kindly. It is a story as told by a friend of us all, who is found in all parts of all countries, who is immoderately fond of a funny story, and who, unfortunately, attempts to tell a funny story himself¿one that he has been particularly delighted with. Well, he is not a story-teller, and especially he is not a funny story-teller. His funny stories, indeed, are oftentimes touchingly pathetic. But to such a story as he tells, being a good-natured man and kindly disposed, we have to listen, because we do not want to wound his feelings by telling him that we have heard that story a great number of times, and that we have heard it ably told by a great number of people from the time we were children. But, as I say, we can not hurt his feelings. We can not stop him. We can not kill him; and so the story generally proceeds.

"The Minstrel" is a narrative poem written by James Beattie, a Scottish poet and philosopher. The poem is often referred to as "The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius." It was first published in two parts in 1771 and 1774, and it is considered one of Beattie's major works.Key Features of "The Minstrel":Genre and Style: "The Minstrel" belongs to the genre of Spenserian allegory and is written in the Spenserian stanza, a nine-line verse form invented by the Elizabethan poet Edmund Spenser.Structure: The poem consists of two parts, each recounting the experiences and reflections of the protagonist, a young shepherd named Edwin, who aspires to be a minstrel.Themes: The poem explores themes of nature, the imagination, the pursuit of knowledge, and the development of the poetic mind. Edwin's journey is a symbolic representation of the poet's own quest for inspiration and wisdom.Influence: "The Minstrel" reflects the influence of the Romantic movement, with a focus on emotion, nature, and the individual's spiritual and creative development.Imagery and Descriptions: Beattie's poem is known for its vivid descriptions of nature, landscapes, and the inner workings of the poet's mind. The poem often employs pastoral imagery to convey its themes.Moral and Philosophical Elements: Beattie integrates moral and philosophical reflections into the narrative, discussing the influence of education, the dangers of skepticism, and the importance of faith."The Minstrel" was well-received in its time and contributed to Beattie's reputation as a poet. The work showcases Beattie's skill in combining the Spenserian tradition with his own philosophical and moral concerns. If you are interested in exploring the full text, you may find editions of Beattie's collected works or anthologies of 18th-century poetry.

THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS I. Here we halt our march, and pitch our tent On the rugged forest ground, And light our fire with the branches rent By winds from the beeches round. Wild storms have torn this ancient wood, But a wilder is at hand, With hail of iron and rain of blood, To sweep and waste the land. II. How the dark wood rings with voices shrill, That startle the sleeping bird; To-morrow eve must the voice be still, And the step must fall unheard. The Briton lies by the blue Champlain, In Ticonderoga's towers, And ere the sun rise twice again, The towers and the lake are ours. III. Fill up the bowl from the brook that glides Where the fireflies light the brake; A ruddier juice the Briton hides In his fortress by the lake. Build high the fire, till the panther leap From his lofty perch in flight, And we'll strenghten our weary arms with sleep For the deeds of to-morrow night.

"The Missionary" is a poem written by William Lisle Bowles, an English poet and critic who was active in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Bowles is known for his romantic and nature-themed poetry. "The Missionary" reflects his interest in exploring themes related to the human experience, often with a focus on emotion and the natural world.While I don't have the full text of "The Missionary," Bowles' poetry often incorporates picturesque and contemplative elements. It's likely that the poem may involve themes such as the individual's spiritual journey, the impact of nature on human emotions, or reflections on the missionary's quest.To fully appreciate the nuances of Bowles' work, it's recommended to explore the complete poem in the context of his body of work. Editions of Bowles' collected poems or anthologies of Romantic poetry may include "The Missionary." Libraries, online databases, or literary collections focusing on the Romantic period can be valuable resources for accessing the complete poem and gaining insights into Bowles' poetic style and thematic concerns.

"The Motley Muse: Rhymes for the Times" is a collection of humorous verses written by Harry Graham. Harry Graham (1874¿1936) was a British writer and poet known for his witty and satirical poetry. "The Motley Muse" is one of several collections where Graham showcased his talent for light verse and comedic commentary on various aspects of contemporary life.Key features of "The Motley Muse" may include:Humorous Verses: The collection likely consists of light, humorous poetry that satirizes different aspects of society, politics, or daily life.Satirical Tone: Harry Graham was known for his satirical and often irreverent approach to his subjects. His verses may contain playful jabs at conventions and social norms.Rhymes for the Times: The title suggests that Graham's poetry is relevant to the contemporary issues or events of his time, providing a humorous take on the happenings of the day.Clever Wordplay: Graham was skilled at using clever wordplay and puns in his verses. Readers can expect a playfulness with language that adds to the comedic effect.Social Commentary: While presented in a humorous manner, Graham's poetry often carries underlying social commentary, offering insights into the concerns and attitudes of the period.

"The Grave of the Last Saxon" is a poem written by William Lisle Bowles, an English poet and critic of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Bowles was associated with the Romantic movement and was known for his reflective and lyrical poetry.As of my last knowledge update in January 2022, I don't have the full text of "The Grave of the Last Saxon" available. However, based on the title and Bowles's poetic style, it is likely that the poem reflects on historical or cultural themes, possibly related to the end of the Saxon era in England.If you are interested in reading the complete poem, you can explore collections of William Lisle Bowles's works or anthologies of Romantic poetry. Libraries, online literary databases, or platforms specializing in classic literature may provide access to the poem.

"The House of the Wolfings: A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark" is a fantasy novel written by William Morris. Morris, a 19th-century English textile designer, poet, and novelist, was a key figure in the Arts and Crafts Movement. "The House of the Wolfings" is one of his prose romances and was first published in 1889.Key features of the novel include:Fantasy Setting: The story is set in a mythical, fantastical version of Germanic Europe, a land inhabited by various tribes and clans.Heroic Tale: The novel follows the House of the Wolfings, a heroic tribe, as they defend their land and people against external threats.Prose and Verse: Morris blends prose and verse in the narrative, adding a poetic and mythic quality to the storytelling.Medieval Influence: As a key figure in the Arts and Crafts Movement, Morris was influenced by medieval literature and art. This influence is evident in the novel's setting, themes, and language.Themes of Heroism and Sacrifice: The novel explores themes of heroism, sacrifice, and the struggle for freedom, drawing on Morris's own political and social ideals.Influence on Fantasy Literature: Morris's works, including "The House of the Wolfings," had a notable impact on the fantasy genre. His emphasis on world-building and mythology influenced later writers such as J.R.R. Tolkien."The House of the Wolfings" is recognized for its contribution to the fantasy genre and its influence on subsequent writers who sought to create rich, immersive worlds filled with heroic tales and mythic elements

THE LORD'S PRAYER ON A COIN. Upon this quarter-eagle's leveled face, The Lord's Prayer, legibly inscribed, I trace. "Our Father which"¿the pronoun there is funny, And shows the scribe to have addressed the money "Which art in Heaven"¿an error this, no doubt: The preposition should be stricken out. Needless to quote; I only have designed To praise the frankness of the pious mind Which thought it natural and right to join, With rare significancy, prayer and coin. A LACKING FACTOR. "You acted unwisely," I cried, "as you see By the outcome." He calmly eyed me: "When choosing the course of my action," said he, "I had not the outcome to guide me.

My Lord,¿It is with a great deal of pleasure that I lay hold on this first occasion which the accidents of my life have given me of writing to your lordship: for since at the same time I write to all the world, it will be a means of publishing (what I would have everybody know) the respect and duty which I owe and pay to you. I have so much inclination to be yours that I need no other engagement. But the particular ties by which I am bound to your lordship and family have put it out of my power to make you any compliment, since all offers of myself will amount to no more than an honest acknowledgment, and only shew a willingness in me to be grateful. I am very near wishing that it were not so much my interest to be your lordship¿s servant, that it might be more my merit; not that I would avoid being obliged to you, but I would have my own choice to run me into the debt: that I might have it to boast, I had distinguished a man to whom I would be glad to be obliged, even without the hopes of having it in my power ever to make him a return.

THERE was a monkey climbed up a tree, When he fell down, then down fell he. There was a crow sat on a stone, When he was gone, then there was none. There was an old wife did eat an apple, When she had eat two, she had eat a couple. There was a horse going to the mill, When he went on, he stood not still. There was a butcher cut his thumb, When it did bleed, then blood did come. There was a lackey ran a race, When he ran fast, he ran apace. There was a cobbler clouting shoon, When they were mended, they were done. There was a chandler making candle, When he them strip, he did them handle. There was a navy went into Spain, When it returned, it came again.

The Lost Pibroch. day is my story, for they have not the Lost Pibroch. It is of the three best, who were not bad, in a place I ken ¿ Half Town that stands in the wood. You may rove for a thousand years on league-long brogues, or hurry on fairy wings from isle to isle and deep to deep, and find no equal to that same Half Town. It is not the splendour of it, nor the riches of its folk; it is not any great routh of field or sheep-fank, but the scented winds of it, and the comfort of the pine - trees round and about it on every hand. My mother used to -be saying (when I had the notion of fairy tales), that once on a time, when the woods were young and thin, there was a road through them, and the pick of children of a country-side wandered among them into this place to play at sheilings. Up grew the trees, fast and tall, and shut the little folks in so that the way out they could not get if they had the mind for it. But never an

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

My Lord,¿It is with a great deal of pleasure that I lay hold on this first occasion which the accidents of my life have given me of writing to your lordship: for since at the same time I write to all the world, it will be a means of publishing (what I would have everybody know) the respect and duty which I owe and pay to you. I have somuch inclination to be yours that I need no other engagement. But the particular ties by which I am bound to your lordship and family have put it out of my power to make you any compliment, since all offers of myself will amount to no more than an honest acknowledgment, and only shew a willingness in me to be grateful. I am very near wishing that it were not so much my interest to be your lordship¿s servant, that it might be more my merit; not that I would avoid being obliged to you, but I would have my own choice to run me into the debt: that I might have it to boast, I had distinguished a man to whom I would be glad to be obliged, even without the hopes of having it in my power ever to make him a return.

Rupert Brooke was both fair to see and winning in his ways. There was at the first contact both bloom and charm; and most of all there was life. To use the word his friends describe him by, he was "vivid". This vitality, though manifold in expression, is felt primarily in his sensations ¿ surprise mingled with delight ¿ "One after one, like tasting a sweet food." This is life's "first fine rapture". It makes him patient to name over those myriad things each of which seems like a fresh discovery curious but potent, and above all common, that he "loved", ¿ he the "Great Lover". Lover of what, then? Why, of "White plates and cups clean-gleaming, Ringed with blue lines," ¿and the like, through thirty lines of exquisite words; and he is captivated by the multiple brevity of these vignettes of sense, keen, momentary, ecstatic with the morning dip of youth in the wonderful stream. The poem is a catalogue of vital sensations and "dear names" as well. "All these have been my loves."

Sea Lullaby The old moon is tarnished With smoke of the flood, The dead leaves are varnished With colour like blood. A treacherous smiler With teeth white as milk, A savage beguiler In sheathings of silk The sea creeps to pillage, She leaps on her prey; A child of the village Was murdered today. She came up to meet him In a smooth golden cloak, She choked him and beat him to death, for a joke. Her bright locks were tangled, She shouted for joy With one hand she strangled A strong little boy. Now in silence she lingers Beside him all night To wash her long fingers In silvery light.

IV In sighs their sickly breath was spent; each gleam Of Hope had ceas'd the long long day to cheer; Or if delusive, in some flitting dream, It gave them to their friends and children dear¿Awaked by lordly Insult's sound 15 To all the doubled horrors round, Oft shrunk they from Oppression's band While Anguish rais'd the desperate hand For silent death; or lost the mind's controll, Thro' every burning vein would tides of Frenzy roll. 20 V But cease, ye pitying bosoms, cease to bleed! Such scenes no more demand the tear humane; I see, I see! glad Liberty succeed With every patriot virtue in her train! And mark yon peasant's raptur'd eyes; 25 Secure he views his harvests rise; No fetter vile the mind shall know, And Eloquence shall fearless glow. Yes! Liberty the soul of Life shall reign, Shall throb in every pulse, shall flow thro' every vein! 30