Long have we hugged the dream with fond deceit,

And strove by tears to intercede with Fate.

But, ah! in vain, for now the rapid sun

Four annual circuits through the heaven has run ;
In our sad ears the solemn dirges ring,
And our last hope is flitting on the wing.

With swifter course the new-born moments fly; Here wipe the tear, suppress the bursting sigh.

Oft have we rambled o'er the flowery plain, And freely followed Pleasure's smiling train; Oft have we wandered o'er the breezy hill, And traced the windings of the purling rill; Where the dark forest glooms the silent walk, Has prattling Echo learnt of us to talk; Oft on the river's flowery banks we've ranged, To all the woes of future life estranged; Oft on the scenes, which airy Fancy drew, We fondly gazed and fondly thought them true. But now no more these social sports delight; No song the ear, no landscape charms the sight. From grove to grove the airy songsters play, All nature blooms, and smiling heaven looks gay; But, ah! for us no verdant meadow blooms; No songsters warble, and no sun illumes; These can but lend another shade to woe, And add new tortures to the poignant blow. No more we mingle in the sportive scene, The gay palestra, and the tufted green.

The fatal sheers the slender thread divide, And sculptured urns the mouldering relicks hide;

Far deeper wounds our bleeding breasts display,
And Fate's most deadly weapon is-to-day.
To-day we part; ye throbs of anguish, rise,
Flow, all ye tears, and heave, ye rending sighs!
Come, lend to Friendship's stifled voice relief,
And melt the lonely hermitage of grief.

Sighs, though in vain, may tell the world we feel,
And tears may soothe the wound, they cannot heal.
To day we launch from this delightful shore,

And Mirth shall cheer, and Friendship charm no more;
We spread the sail o'er life's tumultuous tide;

Ambition's helm, let prudent Reason guide;

Let

grey Experience, with her useful chart,

Direct the wishes of the youthful heart.

Where'er kind Heaven shall bend our wide career,
Still let us fan the flame, we've kindled here;

Still let our bosoms burn with equal zeal,
And teach old age the warmth of youth to feel.
But ere the faithful moment bids us part,
Rends every nerve, and racks the throbbing heart,
Let us, while here our fondest prayer ascends,
Swear on this altar, "that we will be friends !"
But, ah! behold the fatal moment fly;

Time cuts the knot, he never could untie.
Adieu! ye scenes, where noblest pleasures dwell!
Ye happy seats, ye sacred walls, farewell!
Adieu, ye guides, and thou enlightened sire;
A long farewell resounds our plaintive lyre ;
Adieu, ye youths, that press our tardy heel;
Long may it be, ere you such griefs shall feel!
Wild horrors swim around my startling view;
Fate prompts my tongue, and, oh! my friends, adieu.

The following Poem was delivered on Commencement day, at Cambridge, when Mr. Paine proceeded Bachelor of Arts, July 1792.

THE NATURE AND PROGRESS OF LIBERTY.

HAIL, sacred Freedom! heaven-born goddess, hail!

Friend of the pen, the sickle and the sail!

From thee the power of liberal thought we trace,

The great enlargement of the human race.
Thou hast recalled, to man's astonished sight,
Those joys, that spring from choice of doing right;
That sacred blessing, man's peculiar pride,
To follow Reason, where she ought to guide;
Nor urged by power the devious path to run,
Which Reason warns our erring feet to shun.
What Reason prompts, 'tis Freedom to fulfil;
This guides the conduct, that directs the will;

That with the "rights of man" from Heaven descends,

And this with Heaven's own shield those rights defends;

Bound by no laws, but Truth's extensive plan,

Which rules all rationals and social man;
Essential laws, which guide in wide career
The rapid motions of the boundless sphere.
There Order bids the circling planets run

Through heaven's vast suburbs round the blazing sun;

Directs an atom, as it rules the pole,

Reigns through all worlds, and shines the system's soul;

This moves the vast machine, unknown to jar,

And links an insect with the farthest star.

Thus Freedom here the civil system binds,
Cements our friendships, and illumes our minds.
She bids the varying parts of life cohere,
The sun and centre of the social sphere.
Freedom in joys of equal life delights,
Forbids encroachment on another's rights,
Contemns the tyrant's proud imperial sway,
Nor leaves the subject for the sceptre's prey.
She curbs ambition, bold incursion checks,
Nor more the palace, than the vale protects.
From her the noblest joys of mortals spring;
She makes the cot a throne, the peasant king.
Her presence smooths the rugged paths of woe,
And bids the rock with streams of pleasure flow.
No raven's notes her sacred groves annoy;
There Sickness smiles, and Want exults with joy.
There never drooped the willow of Despair,
Nor pressed the footstep of corroding Care.

Hard is the task, which civil rulers bear, To give each subject freedom's equal share; But still more arduous to the statesmen's ken, To check the passions of licentious men. The licensed robber, and the knave in power, Whose grasping avarice strips the peasant's bower, Would glean an Andes' topmost rock for wealth, And feed, like leeches, on their country's health. The man, who barters influence for applause, Libels the smile, and spurns the frown of laws. Licentious morals breed disease of state,

And snatch the scabbard from the sword of fate.

These were the bane, which ancient ages knew;

On freedom's stalk the engrafted scion grew.

Long had the clouds of ignorance gloomed mankind, And Error held the sceptre of the mind;

Long had the tyrant kept the world in awe,
Swords turned the scale, and nods enacted law;
But where mild Freedom crowns the happy shore,
Law guides the king, and kings the law no more.
No threatening sword the forum's tongue restrains;
No monarch courts the mask, when Reason reigns.
Here glows the press with Freedom's sacred zeal,
The great Briareus of the publick weal.

Dire wars, those civil earthquakes, long had raged, Seas burst on seas, and world with world engaged; Freedom allured the struggling hero's eye, Of arms the laurel of the world the sigh.

But, ah! in vain the clarion sounds afar,
Vain the dread pomp, and vain the storm of war;
In vain dread Havock saw her millions die ;
Vain the soft pearl, that melts the virgin's eye;
Vain the last groan of grey expiring age,
To move the marble of despotick rage!
In that dark realm, where science never shone,
On earth's own basis stands the tyrant's throne.
One murder marks the assassin's odious name,
But millions damn the hero into fame;

And one proud monarch from the throne was hurled,
That rival sceptres might dispute the world.