ugh with merrier blaze her evening fires; 1820.]

[Variant 175:

1836.

Her infants' cheeks with fresher roses glow,
And wilder graces sport around their brow; 1820.]

[Variant 176:

1836.

(Compressing four lines into two.)

By clearer taper lit, a cleanlier board
Receives at supper hour her tempting hoard;
The chamber hearth with fresher boughs is spread,
And whiter is the hospitable bed. 1820.]

[Variant 177:

1845.

(Compressing four lines into two.)

And oh, fair France! though now along the shade
Where erst at will the grey-clad peasant strayed,
Gleam war's discordant garments through the trees,
And the red banner mocks the froward breeze; 1820.

... discordant vestments through the trees,
And the red banner fluctuates in the breeze; 1827.

... though in the rural shade
Where at his will, so late, the grey-clad peasant strayed,
Now, clothed in war's discordant garb, he sees
The three-striped banner fluctuate on the breeze; 1836.]

[Variant 178:

1836.

Though now no more thy maids their voices suit
To the low-warbled breath of twilight lute,
And, heard the pausing village hum between,
No solemn songstress lull the fading green, 1820.

Though martial songs have banish'd songs of love,
And nightingales forsake the village grove, 1827.

(Compressing the four lines of 1820 into two.)]

[Variant 179:

1836.

While, as Night bids the startling uproar die,
Sole sound, the Sourd renews his mournful cry! 1820.]

[Variant 180:

1836.

Chasing those long long dreams, ... 1820.]

[Variant 181:

1845.

... fainter pang ... 1820.]

[Variant 182:

1836.

A more majestic tide [vi] the water roll'd,
And glowed the sun-gilt groves in richer gold. 1820.]

[Variant 183:

1836.

(Compressing six lines into four.)

--Though Liberty shall soon, indignant, raise
Red on the hills his beacon's comet blaze;
Bid from on high his lonely cannon sound,
And on ten thousand hearths his shout rebound;
His larum-bell from village-tower to tower
Swing on the astounded ear its dull undying roar; 1820.]

[Variant 184:

1836.

Yet, yet rejoice, though Pride's perverted ire
Rouze Hell's own aid, and wrap thy hills on fire!