Not yet trodden under wholly,
+++ Not yet darkened,
++++++++ Oh, my spirit’s flickering lamp, art thou !
Still, alas ! thou wanest—though but slowly ;
+++ And I feel as though my heart had hearkened
++++++++ To the whispers of despondence now.

Yet the world shall not enthral me—
+++ Never ! never !—
++++++++ On my briary pathway to the grave
Shapes of pain and peril may appal me,
Agony and ruin may befal me—
+++ Darkness and dismay may lower ever,
++++++++ But, cold world, I will not die thy slave !

Underneath my foot I trample
+++ You, ye juggles—
++++++++ Pleasure, passion, thirst of power and gold !
Shall I, dare I, shame the bright example,
+++ Beaming, burning in the deeds and struggles
++++++++ Of the consecrated few of old ?

Sacred flame—which art eternal !
+++ Oh ! bright essence !
++++++++ Thou, Enthusiasm !—forsake me not !
Oh, though life be reft of all her vernal
+++ Beauty, ever let thy magic presence
++++++++ Shed its glory round my clouded lot.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ CLARENCE.

++++++++++++++++++++++++ [James Clarence Mangan,
+++++++++++++++++++++++ The Dublin Penny Journal,
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ July 6, 1833]












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