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foreign land. He holds fast his integrity, as Milton did of yore on his travels—and returns to his own house, and garden, and lake, the same high-minded and uncorrupted Englishman, " with his stainless banner white," as he left his native shores ; having derived more new wisdom from the recollections of the past, of the greatness, and goodness, and glory of his own dead or living compatriots, than he did from the insight which, when abroad, he had given to him into the character and constitution of modern empires, and all their fluctuating population. “Why weeps the muse for England," is a thought that seems to arise in his mind whenever he indulges in a melancholy or foreboding dream, of the possibility of her decline or fall. His fears are but the passing shadows—his hopes are the steady light; and when the thick mist of a poet's apprehensions dissolves, the creations of his soul appear more pure, fair, and kindling, like a long wide vale from which the sun and breeze have cleared off the shrouding showers in a moment, or like a great metropolitan city, from whose structures the smoke has been driven by a strong healthful blast from the sea.
END OF VOL. V.
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