Chapter LXXXII

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My HOME! it needs no prophet voice to tell
Thy coming glories; they are thronging fast,
Like the enchantments of the Sybil's cell,
Expanding brighter to the very last:
Fulfilling all the patriot's burning vow,
Be free forever my own land as now!
While the uprising nations hail thy star,
And strike, for freedom, that God-sanctioned war.