Where shall I turn me not to view its bonds,
For I will never feel them:-Italy!
Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds
Beneath the lie this State-thing breathed o'er thee-
Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds,
Have voices-tongues to cry aloud for me.
Europe has slaves-allies-kings-armies still,
And Southey lives to si
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