LXIII.

Of thee hereafter.—Ev'n amidst my strain

I turned aside to pay my homage here;

Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain;

Her fate, to every freeborn bosom dear;

And hailed thee, not perchance without a tear.

Now to my theme—but from thy holy haunt

Let me some remnant, some memorial bear;[cw]

Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant,

Nor let thy votary's hope be deemed an idle vaunt.

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