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STAR that bringest home the bee,

And sett'st the weary labourer free!


star shed peace, 'tis thou,


That send'st it from above,

Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow

Are sweet as her's we love.

Come to the luxuriant skies,
Whilst the landscape's odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,

And songs, when toil is done,
From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd
Curls yellow in the sun.

Star of love's soft interviews, Parted lovers on thee muse; Their remembrancer in Heaven

Of thrilling vows thou art,

Too delicious to be riven

By absence from the heart.



MEN of England! who inherit

Rights that cost your sires their blood! Men whose undegenerate spirit

Has been proved on land and flood:

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By the foes ye 've fought uncounted,
By the glorious deeds ye 've done,
Trophies captured-breaches mounted,
Navies conquer'd-kingdoms won!

Yet, remember, England gathers

Hence but fruitless wreaths of fame,

If the patriotism of your fathers
Glow not in your hearts the same.

What are monuments of bravery,
Where no public virtues bloom?
What avail in lands of slavery,
Trophied temples, arch and tomb?

Pageants!-Let the world revere us

For our people's rights and laws, And the breasts of civic heroes

Bared in Freedom's holy cause.

Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,

Sydney's matchless shade is yours,—

Martyrs in heroic story,

Worth a hundred Agincourts!

We're the sons of sires that baffled

Crown'd and mitred tyranny:

They defied the field and scaffold

For their birthrights-so will we!

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