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     And, mocking, rent with ruthless hand
The robe Pretence was wearing.

Too honest or too proud to feign
     A love he never cherished,
Beyond Virginia's border line
     His patriotism perished.
While others hailed in distant skies
     Our eagle's dusky pinion,
He only saw the mountain bird
     Stoop o'er his Old Dominion!

Still through each change of fortune strange,
     Racked nerve, and brain all burning,
His loving faith in Mother-land
     Knew never shade of turning;
By Britain's lakes, by Neva's tide,
     Whatever sky was o'er him,
He heard her rivers' rushing sound,
     Her blue peaks rose before him.

He held his slaves, yet made withal
     No false and vain pretences,
Nor paid a lying priest to seek
     For Scriptural defences.
His harshest words of proud rebuke,
     His bitterest taunt and scorning,
Fell fire-like on the Northern brow
     That bent to him in fawning.

He held his slaves; yet kept the while
     His reverence for the Human;

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