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What! thou, with thy genius, thy youth, and thy name!
Thou, born of a Russell, whose instinct to run
The accustom'd career of thy sires is the same
As the eaglet's to soar with his eyes on the sun;
Whose nobility comes to thee, stamp'd with a seal
Far, far more ennobling than monarch e'er set;
With the blood of thy race offer'd up for the weal
Of a nation that swears by that martyrdom yet!
Shalt thou be faint-hearted, and turn from the strife,
From the mighty arena, where all that is grand,
And devoted, and pure, and adorning in life
Is for high-thoughted spirits like thine to command?
Oh no! never dream it; while good men despair
Between tyrants and traitors, and timid men bow,
Never think for an instant thy country can spare
Such a light from her dark'ning horizon as thou!
With a spirit as meek as the gentlest of those
Who in life's sunny valley lie shelter'd and warm,
Yet bold and heroic as ever yet rose
To the top cliffs of Fortune, and breasted her storm;
With an ardour for liberty, fresh as in youth
It first kindles the bard and gives light to his lyre,
Yet mellow'd e'en now by that mildness of truth,
Which tempers, but chills not, the patriot fire;
With an eloquence, not like those rills from a height,
Which sparkle and foam, and in vapour are o'er,
But a current that works out its way into light
Through the filt'ring recesses of thought and of lore:
Thus gifted, thou never canst sleep in the shade;
If the stirring of genius, the music of fame,
And the charm of thy cause have not power to persuade,
Yet think how to freedom thou'rt pledged by thy name.
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