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LORD of the vale! astounding flood; | |
The dullest leaf in this thick wood | |
Quakes, conscious of thy power; | |
The caves reply with hollow moan; | |
And vibrates, to its central stone, | 5 |
Yon time-cemented tower! | |
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And yet how fair the rural scene! | |
For thou, O Clyde, hast ever been | |
Beneficent as strong; | |
Pleased in refreshing dews to steep | 10 |
The little, trembling flowers that peep | |
Thy shelving rocks among. | |
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Hence all who love their country love | |
To look on thee, delight to rove | |
Where they thy voice can hear; | 15 |
And to the patriot-warrior’s shade, | |
Lord of the vale! to heroes laid | |
In dust, that voice is dear! | |
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Along thy banks, at dead of night, | |
Sweeps visibly the Wallace wight; | 20 |
Or stands, in warlike vest, | |
Aloft, beneath the moon’s pale beam, | |
A champion worthy of the stream, | |
Yon gray tower’s living crest! | |
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But clouds and envious darkness hide | 25 |
A form not doubtfully descried;— | |
Their transient mission o’er, | |
O, say to what blind region flee | |
These shapes of awful fantasy? | |
To what untrodden shore? | 30 |
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Less than divine command they spurn; | |
But this we from the mountains learn, | |
And this the valleys show; | |
That never will they deign to hold | |
Communion where the heart is cold | 35 |
To human weal and woe. | |
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The man of abject soul in vain | |
Shall walk the Marathonian plain; | |
Or thrid the shadowy gloom | |
That still invests the guardian Pass, | 40 |
Where stood, sublime, Leonidas | |
Devoted to the tomb. | |
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And let no slave his head incline, | |
Or kneel, before the votive shrine | |
By Uri’s lake, where Tell | 45 |
Leapt, from his storm-vext boat, to land, | |
Heaven’s instrument, for by his hand | |
That day the tyrant fell. | |
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