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The homely beauty of the good old cause In thee a bulwark of the cause of men;
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And I by my affection was beguiled.
And pure religion breathing household-laws. What wonder, if a Poet, now and then,

Among the many movements of his mind,

Felt for thee as a Lover or a Child.

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the sea;

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:

October, 1803. England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword and pen, One might believe that natural miseries Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Had blasted France, and made of it a land Have forfeited their ancient English dower Unfit for Men; and that in onc great Band of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Her Sons were bursting forth, to dwell at Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue,freedom, power. But 'tis a chosen soil, where sun and brecze Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart: Shed gentle favors; rural works are there; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like And ordinary business without care;

Spot rich in all things that can soothe and Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

please! So didst thou travel on life's common way, How piteous then that there should be such In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart

dearth The lowliest duties on itself did lay. Of knowledge; that whole myriads should

unite To work against themselves such fell despite: XV.

Should come in phrenzy and in drunken mirth,

Impatient to put out the only light It is not to be thought of that the Flood

Of Liberty that yet remains on Earth! Of British freedom, which to the open Sea Of the world's praise from dark antiquity

XVIII. Hath flowed, with pomp of waters, unwith

stood, Road by which all might come and go that There is a bondage which is worse to bear


Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, And bear out freights of worth to foreign

and wall, lands;

Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall : That this most famous Stream in Bogs and 'Tis his who walks about in the open air,


One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear Should perish ; and to evil and to good

Their fetters in their Souls. For who could be, Be lost for ever. In our Halls is hung

Who, even the best, in such condition, free Armoury of the invincible Knights of old : From self-reproach, reproach which he must We must be free or die, who speak the tongue

share That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals With Human Nature? Never be it ours


To see the Sun how brightly it will shine, Which Milton held. In every thing we are And know that noble Feelings, manly Powers,


Instead of gathering strength must droop Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

and pine, And Earth with all her pleasant fruits and

flowers XVI.

Fade, and participate in Man's decline.

WHEN I have borne in memory what has

Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When Men change Swords for Ledgers, and

October, 1803. desert The Student's bower for gold, some fears These times touch money'a Worldlings with unnamed

dismay: I had, my Country! am I to be blamed ? Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air But, when I think of Thee, and what Thou With words of apprehension and despair:


While tens of thousands, thinking on the Verily, in the bottom of my heart,

aff'ray, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. Men unto whom sufficient for the day But dearly must we prize thee; we who find And minds not stinted or untilld are given, Sound, healthy Children of the God of | In brightest sunshine bask,—this nipping air,


Sent from some distant clime where Winter Are cheerful as the rising Sun in May.

wields What do we gather hence but firmer faith His icy scymetar, a foretaste yields That every gift of noble origin

Of bitter change--and bids the Flowers Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath;

beware; That virtue and the faculties within And whispers to the silent Birds, “prepare Are vital, and that riches are akin Against the threatening foe your trustiest To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death!

For me, who under kindlier laws belong

To Nature's tuneful quire, this rustling dry
Through the green leaves, and yon crystal-

line sky, ENGLAND! the time is come when thou Announce a season potent to renew,

shouldst wean Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of Thy heart from its emasculating food;

song, The truth should now be better understood; And nobler cares than listless summer knew. Old things have been unsettled; we have seen Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been

But for thy trespasses; and, at this day,
If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa,

November 1, 1815.
Aught good were destined, Thou wouldst

step between. How clear, how keen, how marvellously England ! all nations in this charge agree:

bright But worse, more ignorant in love and hate, The effluence from yon distant mountain's Far, far more abject is thine Enemy:

head, Therefore the wise pray for thee, though Which, strewn with snow as smooth as the freight

Heaven can shed, of thy offences be a heavy weight:

Shines like another Sun-on mortal sight, Oh grief! that Earth's best hopes rest all Uprisen, as if to check approaching night, with Thee! And all her twinkling stars. Who now

would tread, XXI. If so he might, yon mountain's glittering


Terrestrial-but a surface, by the flight November, 1806.

Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing, ANOTHER year!-another deadly blow!

Unswept, unstained ? Nor shall the aerial

Another mighty Empire overthrown!
And we are left, or shall be left, alone;

Dissolve that beauty--destined to endure The last that dare to struggle with the Foe. Through all vicissitudes-till genial spring

White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure, "Tis well! from this day forward we shall Have filled the langhing vales with welcome know

flowers. That in ourselves our safety must be

sought; That by our own right hands it must be

XXIV. wrought, That we must stand unpropp'd, or be laid low. 0 Dastard whom such foretaste doth not

cheer! We shall exult, if They who rule the land

Ye storms, resound the praises of your King! Be Men who hold its many blessings dear,


ye mild seasons-in a sunny clime, Wise, upright, valiant; not a venal Band, Midway on some high hill, while Father Time Who are to judge of danger which they Looks on delighted-meet in festal ring,


And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing! And honour which they do not understand.

Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits,

and flowers,

Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety XXII.


And the dire flapping of his hoary wing ! September, 1815.

Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green

grass; WALE not a Icaf seems faded,--while the With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report fields,

your gain; With ripening harvests prodigally fair, Whisper it to the billows of the main,



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And to the aerial Zephyrs as they pass, Want, through neglect of hoar Antiquity. That old decrepit Winter- He hath slain Rise, then, ye votive Towers, and catch a That Host, which rendered all your boun

gleam ties vain!

Of golden sun-set-ere it fade and die!

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The Imperial Consort of the Fairy-King Pure element of waters! wheresoe'er Owns not a sylvan bower, or gorgeous cell Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts, With emerald floor'd, and with purpureal Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry

shell bearing plants, Ceiling'd and roof'd; that is so fair a thing Rise into life and in thy train appear: As this low structure—for the tasks of Spring And, through the sunny portion of the year, Prepared by one who loves the buoyant swell Swift insects shine,thy hovering pursuivants: Of the brisk waves, yet here consents to And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants ;

dwell; And hart and hind and hunter with his And spreads in steadfast peace her brooding spear

wing: Languish and droop together. Nor unfelt Words cannot paint the o'ershadowing yewIn man's perturbed soul thy sway benign;

tree-bough, And, haply, far within the marble belt And dimly-gleaming Nest,-a hollow crown Of central earth, where tortured Spirits pine Of golden leaves inlaid with silver down, For grace and goodness lost, thy murmurs Fine as the Mother's softest plumes allow :


I gaze--and almost wish to lay aside Their anguish,—and they blend sweet songs Flumanity, weak slave of cumbrous pride!

with thine!


At early dawn,-or rather when the air

As the cold aspect of a sunless way Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy eve Strikes through the Traveller's frame with Is busiest to confer and to bereave,

deadlier chill, Then, pensive votary, let thy feet repair To Gordale-chasm, terrific as the lair

Oft as appears a grove, or obvious hill, Where the young lions couch;— for so, by Or shining slope where he must never stray;

Glistening with unparticipated ray,

leave of the propitious hour, thou mayst perceive Sharpen the keenest edge of present ill, –

So joys, remembered without wish or will The local Deity, with oozy hair And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn

On the crush'd heart a heavier burthen lay.

Just Heaven, contract the compass of my Recumbent:-him thou mayst behold, who

mind hides Ilis lineaments by day, and there presides, Quench those felicities whose light I find

To fit proportion with my altered state! Teaching the docile waters how to turn; Or, if need be, impediment to sparn,

Burning within my bosom all too late! And force their passage to the salt-sea-tides! And like mine eyes, that'stream with sorrow,

O be my spirit, like my thraldom, strait;


AERIAL Rock---whose solitary brow
From this low threshold daily meets my sight; TO A SNOW-DROP, APPEARING
When I look forth to hail the morning-light,

Or quit the stars with lingering farewell —


Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and Shall I discharge to thee a grateful vow?-

white as they By planting on thy head (in verse at least, But hardier far, though modestly thou bend As I have often done in thought) the crest Thy front--as if such presence could offend ! Of an imperial Castle, which the plough Who guards thy slender stalk, while, day Of ruin shall not touch. Innocent scheme!

by day, That doth presume no more than to supply Storms, sallying from the mountain - tops, A grace the sinuous vale and roaring stream



The rising sun, and on the plains descend? What are fears but voices airy?
Accept the greeting that befits a friend Whispering barm where harm is not,
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed And deluding the unwary


Till the fatal bolt is shot!
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing What is glory?-in the socket
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers; See how dying tapers fare!
Yet will I not thy gentle grace forget What is pride?-a whizzing rocket
Chastc Snow-drop, vent'rous harbinger of That would emulate a star.

And pensive monitor of fleeting years! What is friendship?-do not trust her,

Nor the vows which she has made;

Diamonds dart their brightest lustre

From a palsy-shaken head.

What is truth?–a staff rejected; Among the mountains were we nurs’d, lov’a Duty ?-an unwelcome clog;



-a dazzling moon reflected
Thou, near the eagle's nest—within brief sail, In a swamp or watery bog ;
I, of his bold wing floating on the gale,
Where thy deep voice could lull me!-Faint Bright, as if through ether steering,

the beam

To the Traveller's eye it shone :
of human life when first allowed to gleam He hath hailed it re-appearing-
On mortal notice.-Glory of the Vale, And as quickly it is gone;
Such thy meek outset, with a crown though


Gone, as if for ever hidden, Kept in perpetual verdure by the steam Or misshapen to the sight; Of thy soft breath!-Less vivid wreaths en- And by sullen weeds forbidden


To resume its native light.
Nemæan Victor's brow; less bright was worn
Meed of some Roman Chief-in triumph borne What is youth?-a dancing billow,
With captives chain'd, and shedding from Winds behind, and rocks before!

his car

Age ?–a drooping, tottering willow
The sunset-splendors of a finish'd war On a flat and lazy shore.
Upon the proud enslavers of mankind !

What is peace?-when pain is over,

And love ceases to rebel,

Let the last faint sigh discover
GRIEF, thou hast lost an ever ready Friend That precedes the passing knell !
Now that the cottage-spinning-wheel is mute;
And Care-a Comforter that best could suit
Her forward mood, and softliest reprehend;
And Love--a Charmer's voice, that used to

More efficacionsly than aught that flows

From harp or lute, kind influence to compose
The throbbing pulse,-else troubled without

end :
Ev’n Joy could tell, Joy craving truce and rest

From her own overflow, what power sedate
On those revolving motions did await
Assiduously, to sooth her aching breast;

PERHAPS some needful service of the State And—to a point of just relief-abate

Drew Titus from the depth of studioos The mantling triumphs of a day too blest.

bowers And doomed him to contend in faithless

courts, Where gold determines between right and


Yet did at length his loyalty of heart

And his pure native genius lead him back SUPPOSED TO BE POUND IN A AERMIT'S CELL. To wait upon the bright and gracious Muses

Whom he had early loved. And not in vain Hopes what are they?– Beads of morning Such course he held! Bologna's learned Strung on slender blades of grass;

schools Or a spider's web adorning

Were gladdened by the Sage's voice, and In a strait and treacherous pase.


With fondness on those sweet Nestorian | And the broad gulfs I traversed oft-andstrains.

oft: There pleasure crowned his days; and all of every cloud which in the heavens might his thoughts

stir A roseate fragrance breathed,-0 human life, I knew the force; and hence the rough sea's That never art secure from dolorous change!

pride Behold a high injunction suddenly

Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow. To Arno's side conducts bim, and he charmed What noble pomp and frequent have not I A Tuscan audience: but full soon was called On regal decks beheld! yet in the end To the perpetual silence of the grave. I learn that one poor moment can suffice Monrn, Italy, the loss of him who stood To equalize the lofty and the low. A Champion steadfast and invincible, We sail the sea of life--a Calm One finds, To quell the rage of literary War! And One a Tenipest—and, the voyage o'er,

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

If more of my condition you would know, II.

Savona was my birth-place, and I sprang

Of noble Parents : sixty years and three O thou who movest onward with a mind

Lived I-then yielded to a slow disease. Intent upon thy way, pause, though in haste! "Twill be no fruitless moment. I was born Within Savona's walls of gentle blood.

IV. On Tiber's banks my youth was dedicate To sacred studies; and the Roman Shepherd Destined to war from very infancy Gave to my charge Urbino's numerous Flock. Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took Much did I watch, much laboured, nor had In Malta the white symbol of the Cross.


Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun To escape from many and strange indignities; Hazard or toil; among the Sands was seen Was smitten by the great ones of the world of Lybia, and not seldom on the Banks But did not fall, for virtue braves all shocks, of wide Hungarian Danube 'twas my lot Upon herself resting immoveably.

To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded. Me did a kindlier fortune then invite

So lived I, and repined not at such fate ; To serve the glorious Henry, King of France, This only grieves me, for it seems a wrong, And in his hands I saw a high reward

That stripped of arms I to my end am brought Stretched out for my acceptance-but Death On the soft down of my paternal home.

Yet haply Arno shall be spared all cause Now, Reader, learn from this my fate

To blush for me. Thou, loiter not nor halt how false,

In thy appointed way, and bear in mind How treacherous to her promise is the World, How Aceting and how frail is human life. And trust in God- to whose eternal doom Must bend the sceptred Potentates of Earth.



Pause, courteous Spirit!-Balbi supplicates III.

That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him

Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer There never breathed a man who when his A prayer to the Redeemer of the World.


This to the Dead by sacred rights belongs; Was closing might not of that life relate All else is nothing.–Did occasion suit Toils long and hard. — The Warrior will To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb


Would ill suffice, for Plato's love sublime Of wounds, and bright swords flashing in And all the wisdom of the Stagyrito

the field,

Enriched and beautified this studious mind: And blast of trumpets. He who hath been with Archimedes also he conversed


As with a chosen Friend, nor did he leave To bow his forehead in the courts of kings, Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Will tell of fraud and never-ceasing hate,

Nymphs Envy, and heart-inquietude, derived Twine on the top of Pindus.--Finally, From intricate cabals of treacherous friends. Himself above each lower thought uplifting, 1, .who on ship-board lived from earliest Ilis ears he closed to listen to the song


Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old; Could represent the countenance horrible And fixed his Pindus upon Lebanon of the vexed waters, and the indignant rage A blessed Man! who of protracted days Of Auster and Boötes. Forty years Made not, as theyrands do, a vulgar sleep; Over the well-steered Gallies did I rule :- But truly did He live his life.- Urbino From huge Pelorus to the Atlantic pillars Take pride in him ;-0 Passenger farewell! Rises no mountain to mine eyes unknown;

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