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While well thou outrage her – cold hearted Byron
Laugh at her sorrows – & tarnish her wound her fair fame
Plunge in her bosom thy dagger of iron
Trample her glories down tarnish blacken tarnish her name
Hate if thou will! So malignant a hater
Well might be borne with – to show what a fire
Burns in the womb of that fury-fed crater
Deadly & dark – as a Volcan's fierce ire.
Why dost thou use the proud Speech of thy fathers?
Why dost thou feel for lost liberty's throes –
Sure the vile hand which the aconite gathers
Never should venture to cull the bright rose.
Identifier: | JB/110/196/002 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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196 |
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002 |
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collectanea |
3 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
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36186 |
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