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THE DEAD CENTURY
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Oft to the watcher's eye 'twas lost
Like a flame by fierce winds rudely tossed.
      Scarce could Earth
Catch one ray when she hailed his birth!

VI.

      But erelong
His young voice, like a clarion strong,
Rang through the wilderness far and free,
Prophet and herald of good to be!
Then with a shout the stalwart men
Answered proudly from mount and glen,
Till in the brave, new, western world
Freedom's banners were wide unfurled!
      And ere long
The Century's voice, like a clarion strong,

VII.

      Cried, "Earth,
Pæans sing for a Nation's birth!
Shout hosannas, ye golden stars,
Peering through yonder cloudy bars!
Burn, O Sun, with a clearer beam!
Shine, O Moon, with a softer gleam!
Join, ye winds, in the choral strain!
Swell, rolling seas, the glad refrain,
      While the Earth
Pæans sings for a Nation's birth!"

VIII.

      Ah! he saw—
This young prophet, with solemn awe—