Well might they thus adore that heavenly Maid! Or Grove, or Lake, or Fountain, Her natural grace, Musk-spot, nor sandal-streak, nor scarlet stain, Ear-drop nor chain, nor arm nor ankle-ring, Nor trinketry on front, or neck, or breast, Marring the perfect form: she seem'd a thing Of Heaven's prime uncorrupted work, a child Of early nature undefiled, A daughter of the years of innocence. And therefore all things loved her. When she stood Quick as an arrow from all other eyes, Sought not to tempt her from her secret nest, ODE, WRITTEN DURING THE NEGOCIATIONS WITH BUONAPARTE, IN JANUARY, 1814. I Who counsels peace at this momentous hour, When God hath given deliverance to the oppress'd, And to the injured power? Who counsels peace, when Vengeance like a flood From the four corners of the world cries out 2. Woe, woe to England! woe and endless shame, False to her feelings and unspotted fame, For by what names shall Right and Wrong be known, Still his detested reign, And France, who yearns even now to break her chain, Beneath his iron rule be left to groan? No! by the innumerable dead Whose blood hath for his lust of power been shed, Death only can for his foul deeds atone; That peace which Death and Judgment can bestow, That peace be Buonaparte's.. that alone! 3. For sooner shall the Ethiop change his skin, Fair name night he have handed down, Fool! should he cast away that bright renown! Before him, which to choose. 4. But Evil was his Good, For all too long in blood had he been nurst, And ne'er was earth with verier tyrant curst. Bold man and bad, Remorseless, godless, full of fraud and lies, And black with murders and with perjuries, Himself in Hell's whole panoply he clad; No law but his own headstrong will he knew, No counsellor but his own wicked heart. From evil thus portentous strength he drew, And trampled under foot all human ties, All holy laws, all natural charities. 5. O France! beneath this fierce Barbarian's sway Disgraced thou art to all succeeding times; Rapine, and blood, and fire have mark'd thy way, All loathsome, all unutterable crimes. A curse is on thee, France! from far and wide It hath gone up to Heaven; all lands have cried For vengeance upon thy detested head; All nations curse thee, France! for wheresoe'er Cry out alike against thee! They who bear, Whose slaughtered spirits day and night invoke 6. A merciless oppressor hast thou been, Thyself remorselessly oppress'd meantime; Greedy of war, when all that thou couldst gain Was but to dye thy soul with deeper crime, And rivet faster round thyself the chain. O blind to honour, and to interest blind, When thus in abject servitude resign'd Thyself the while a miserable slave; Give their triumphant banners to the wind, 7. One man hath been for ten long wretched years The cause of all this blood and all these tears; One man in this most aweful point of time Draws on thy danger, as he caused thy crime. Wait not too long the event, For now whole Europe comes against thee bent; His wiles and their own strength the nations know; Wise from past wrongs, on future peace intent, The People and the Princes, with one mind, From all parts move against the general foe: One act of justice, one atoning blow, One execrable head laid low, Even yet, O France! averts thy punishment: Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind; Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind! 8. France! if thou lov'st thine ancient fame, Of frozen Muscovy; By the bodies that lie all open to the sky, By the lives which he hath shed, By the prayers that rise for curses on his head, Open thine eyes! . . too long hast thou been blind; 9. By those horrors which the night Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind! FUNERAI, ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE In its summer pride array'd, Visiting the bridal bower, Death hath levell'd root and flower. Is the Flower of Brunswick laid! |