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1825
I've heard despair upon the lips
Where the sweet strains of hope should be
As if a permanent eclipse
Could shroud the Sun of liberty
That sun still his glorious race
O'er freedom's opening spring he reigns
And tho' a cloud may veil his face
The cloud flits by – the Sun remains
If Europe, smitten by the blast
Of tyranny look sad & sure;
Tyrants shall fall – it may not last
It shall not – cannot last – even here:
But hurry o'er the Atlantic wave
And these polluted lands forget –
In freedom hast the good – the brave
And wreck her crowns for Lafayette.
Identifier: | JB/110/152/001 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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1825 |
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110 |
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152 |
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001 |
1825 |
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collectanea |
3 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
[[watermarks::[britannia with shield emblem]]] |
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36142 |
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