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And is it among rude untutored Dales,
O'er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain,
FINAL SUBMISSION OF THE TYROLESE.
It was a moral end for which they fought;
Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame,
Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim,
A resolution, or enlivening thought?
Nor hath that moral good been vainly sought;
For in their magnanimity and fame
Powers have they left—an impulse—and a claim
Which neither can be overturned nor bought.
Sleep, Warriors, sleep! among your hills repose!
We know that ye, beneath the stern controul
Of awful prudence, keep the unvanquished soul.
And when, impatient of her guilt and woes
Europe breaks forth; then, Shepherds! shall ye rise
For perfect triumph o'er your'Enemies.
Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye
Say, what is Honour?—'Tis the finest sense Of justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim, And guard the way of life from all offence . ,Suffered or done. When lawless violence A Kingdom doth assault, and in the scale Of perilous war her weightiest Armies fail, Honour is hopeful elevation—whence Glory—and Triumph. Yet with politic skill Endangered States may yield to terms unjust, Stoop their proud heads ;—but not unto the dust,— A Foe's most favourite purpose to fulfil!Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.
Vol. H. R