EPILOGUE. TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR INDEPENDENCE. HE ship to the breezes is bended ; The wind whistles off to the lee ; The sun is arisen, the splendid ! The sun on the marvellous sea ! And the feast of your freedom is ended, O sons of the free ! Your shouts have gone up to remember The day of your oath to the world. Is its flame dwindled down to an ember ? The flag of your liberty furled ? Your limbs are too strong to dismember— In sloth are they curled ? T 27