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James Henry Leigh Hunt (Джеймс Генри Ли Хант) The Olive of Peace Now sheath'd is the Sword that was wild as the blast: The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past; Old ALBION her Neighbour all smilingly hails— For the OLIVE of PEACE blooms again in our Vales! Beam on the day, Thou Olive gay: 'Matchless is he Who planted thee; And mayst thou like him immortal be!' Divinest of Olives, O, never was seen A bloom so enchanting, a verdure so green! Sweet, sweet do thy Beauties entwiningly smile In the Vine-tree of France and the Oak of our Isle! Beam on the day, Thou Olive gay, &c. Long, long did thy envied Exotic delay, 'Till the voice of HUMANITY charm'd thee away; And here, ever here mayst thou bloom in repose, As firm as our Oak-tree, and gay as the Rose! Bloom on the day, Thou Olive gay, &c. Let ALCIDES his Poplar of Majesty prize, And VENUS her Myrtle exalt to the skies: FRANCE and ALBION excell all the Gods of old Greece— For they crown their wise heads with the OLIVE of PEACE! Bloom on the day, Thou Olive gay, &c. The delicate Lily may gracefully mount, And the Pink all her charms with the Rainbow recount; Green, green is the Olive on ALBION'S brow, And the Lily and Pink to the Olive must bow! Bloom on the day, Thou Olive gay, &c. Thou Olive divine, may Eternity's Sun Beam warm where thy roots thro' the ages shall run; The Dew of Affection 'light soft where they twine, And the Love of an Universe stamp thee divine! Bloom on the day, Thou Olive gay: 'Matchless was he Who planted thee; And mayst thou like him immortal be!' James Henry Leigh Hunt's other poems:
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