Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!

What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life--the demon Thought.

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years.

Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!

With thee all tales are sweet; each clime has charms; earth - sea alike - our world within our arms.

Oh! too convincing--dangerously dear-- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue--at once her spear and shield.

The truly brave are soft of heart and eyes, and feel for what their duty bids them do.