-NRLF 
 
 lt.7 351 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
*&} 
 
POEMS. 
 
POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 George f otnarD, Carl of Carlisle 
 
 SELECTED BY HIS SISTERS 
 
 IN MEMORIAM MATRIS 
 
 1 Not wholly lost ! thy letter'd fame shall tell 
 A part of what thou wast, farewell, farewell ! " 
 
 LONDON : 
 E. MOXON, SON & CO., DOVER STREET. 
 
 1869. 
 
IOAN STACK 
 
 LONDON : 
 SWIFT AND CO., KING STREET, REGENT STREET, W. 
 
C 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 OXFORD PRIZE POEM, 1821 .. .. .. .. .. i 
 
 FROM THE AGAMEMNON . . . . . * - , . . 5 
 
 FROM THE AGAMEMNON 8 
 
 FROM HORACE . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1 
 
 EXTRACT FROM A LETTER. 1821 .. .. .. .. 13 
 
 To LADY M. S. ON HER MARRIAGE. 1821 .. .. 14 
 
 To A SISTER IN SCOTLAND. August, 1823 .. .. .. 16 
 
 ON A TREE IN THE ISOLA BELLA . . . . . . . . 19 
 
 NAPLES.. .'*.. .. .. .. .. .. .. 20 
 
 ON VIRGIL'S TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 
 
 BOLOGNA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 
 
 ROME . . ... . . . . . . . . . . 26 
 
 ON LEAVING ITALY . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 
 
 LORD OF ALL LIFE . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 
 
 LlNES PLACED ON SOME FRAGMENTS BROUGHT FROM SuNIUM 
 
 TO CHATSWORTH ., .. .... .. .. 33 
 
 b 
 
VJ CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Moscow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 
 
 LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH, 1826 .. .. .. .. 37 
 
 LlNES SUGGESTED BY THE FUNERAL OF MR. CANNING . . 40 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, 1829 43 
 
 THE NUPTIALS OF THE DOGE OF VENICE WITH THE ADRIATIC 
 
 SEA 48 
 
 ODE TO THE NEW SOVEREIGN OF GREECE. 1829 .. .. 53 
 
 IMPROMPTU CHARADE .. .. .. .. .. .. 58 
 
 LEANDER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 
 
 ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 1832 .. .. 61 
 
 THE BIRTH OF RHODES . . . . . . . . . . 69 
 
 To A JESSAMINE TREE . . . . . . . . . . 72 
 
 THE THREE GUESTS . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 
 
 FRAGMENT FROM THE LAST OF THE GREEKS . . . . 78 
 
 LORD, I BELIEVE . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 
 
 STANZAS ... .. .. 82 
 
 STANZAS ,.;.. ^. 84 
 
 STANZAS .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 86 
 
 INSCRIPTION IN THE CATHEDRAL AT KILKENNY. 1833 ^8 
 
 THE LADY AND THE NOVEL . . . . . . . . . . 89 
 
 FOR G. C. 1834 .. V. .. .. / .. .. 93 
 
 LINES ON Miss HELEN CLIFFORD . . . . . . . . 94 
 
 To THE EDITOR OF HEATH'S BOOK OF BEAUTY. 1834 .. 95 
 
 THE BEATEN CANDIDATE . . . . . . . . . . 97 
 
 PROLOGUE TO SOME AMATEUR THEATRICALS TOWARDS THE 
 
 RELIEF OF THE IRISH FAMINE . . . . . . . . 98 
 
 AMERICA . . . . . . i o i 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ON NIAGARA . . .-/ . . . . . , . . . . 102 
 
 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS IN VIRGINIA . . . . . . 104 
 
 CUBA .. .; .. .. .. .. .. 105 
 
 SCOTLAND . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 
 
 FROM H. M. S. WASP OFF THE COAST OF SYRIA .. .. 107 
 
 To CAPTAIN MOORE, ON THE HIGHFLYER BEING ORDERED 
 
 TO SEA .. , * ,. .. .. .. 109 
 
 ON A TREE PLANTED BY THE COUNTESS OF ST. GERMAN'S . no 
 
 ON A HAWTHORN TREE IN THE V. R. GARDENS. 1863 . in 
 IN MEMORIAM ... . . . . . . . . ..112 
 
 THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL .. .. .. .. 1(5 
 
OXFORD PRIZE POEM, 1821. 
 
 P JEST UM. 
 
 'Mm the deep silence of the pathless wild, 
 Where kindlier Nature once profusely smil'd, 
 Th' eternal Temples stand untold their age, 
 Untrac'd their annals in historic page ; 
 All that around them stood, now far away 
 Single in ruin, mighty in decay, 
 Between the mountains and the azure main, 
 They claim the empire of the lonely plain. 
 
 In solemn beauty, through the clear blue light, 
 The Doric pillars rear their massive height, 
 
 B 
 
OXFORD PRIZE POEM. 
 
 Emblems of strength untam'd ; yet conqu'ring Time 
 Has mellow'd half the sternness of their prime, 
 And bade the lichen 'mid their ruins grown 
 Imbrown with darker tints the vivid stone. * 
 Each channell'd column of the pile appears 
 Unspoil'd, yet soften'd, by consuming years ; 
 So calmly awful, so serenely fair, 
 The gazer's heart still mutely worships there. 
 
 Not always thus when beam'd beneath the day 
 No fairer scene than Passtum's lovely bay, 
 When her light soil bore plants of every hue, 
 And twice each year her storied roses blew ; 
 While Bards her blooming honours lov'd to sing, 
 And Tuscan zephyrs fann'd th' eternal spring. 
 
 Proud in her port the Tyrian moor'd his fleet, 
 And wealth and commerce fill'd the peopled street; 
 While there the rescued mariner ador'd 
 The sea's dread sovereign, Posidonia's lord : 
 
 * Age has given the great temple a deep tint of luddy brown. 
 
OXFORD PRIZE POEM. 3 
 
 With votive tablets decked yon hallow'd walls, 
 Or sued for justice in her crowded halls.* 
 There stood on high the white-rob'd Flamen, there 
 Thro' th' opening portal pour'd the choral prayer, 
 While to th' o'erarching heav'n swell'd full the 
 
 sound, 
 And incense blaz'd, and myriads knelt around. 
 
 'Tis past the echoes of the plain are mute, 
 E'en to the herdsman's voice, or shepherd's flute : 
 The toils of art, the charms of nature fail, 
 And Death triumphant rides the tainted gale;f 
 From the lone spot the trembling peasants haste. 
 A wild, the garden ; and the town, a waste. 
 
 But They are still the same alike they mock 
 Th' invader's menace and the tempest's shock ; 
 Such, ere the world had bow'd at Caesar's throne, 
 Ere yet proud Rome's all-conqu'ring name was 
 known, 
 
 * One of the buildings is supposed to have been a Court of 
 Justice. f The Mai' aria. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 OXFORD PRIZE POEM. 
 
 They stood and fleeting centuries in vain 
 Have pour'd their fury o'er th' enduring fane : 
 Such long shall stand, proud relics of a clime, 
 Where man was glorious and his works sublime, 
 While in the progress of their slow decay, 
 Thrones sink to dust and nations pass away. 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 
 
 THE wanton boy a winged bird pursues, 
 A chace his ruined country deeply rues. 
 So Dardan Paris, Troy's eternal shame, 
 To great Atrides' wealthy mansion came ; 
 Profan'd with lust the hospitable board, 
 And bore his consort from her injur'd lord. 
 
 To Greece she left the jav'lin and the shield, 
 Th' embattled navy, and the tented field ; 
 While to ill-fated Ilion's war-girt tower, 
 She bore perdition for her bridal dower : 
 Light thro' the portal see the frail one glide, 
 Each tie neglected and each law defied ; 
 While with loud wailings, and prophetic tears, 
 Thus of the mansion spake the hoary peers : 
 
6 FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 
 
 " O hapless palace, and O chief rever'd ! 
 O couch by nuptial blisses long endear'd ! 
 Unhonour*d, mute, and baffled at our view, 
 She passes by, but beauteous as untrue. 
 A spectre he o'er these lone halls shall sway, 
 In fond regret for her now far away : 
 The breathing beauty of the sculptur'd form 
 The pensive widower no more shall warm ; 
 Their lustre withers, and their graces fly 
 In his fix'd gaze of heedless vacancy. 
 Save when the fond delusions of the night 
 In fleeting dreams shall waft a dim delight ; 
 E'en as he clasps the visionary charms, 
 They fade and wither in his longing arms, 
 Swift on the wings of sleep are borne away 
 And melt, dissolv'd amid the blaze of day. 
 These woes each lone domestic hearth-stone fill, 
 Mark of wide Greece the universal ill ; 
 The blighting sorrows burst on every head, 
 Each home has felt them, and each heart has bled. 
 Each breast that knows and prides in those it sent 
 
FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 7 
 
 To join Achaia's leagued armament, 
 
 Sees to their lonely home for them return 
 
 The empty corslet, and the narrow urn. 
 
 Mars, whose stern balance weighs the battle field, 
 
 Maddens the rout, and bids the mighty yield, 
 
 Sends to his orphan race and weeping sire 
 
 A small parch'd relic of the funeral pyre, 
 
 And bids the decent vase alone supply 
 
 The place of him whom war had doom'd to die. 
 
 Each his own hero's bright achievements tell ; 
 
 " He faced the foe and fought the battle well ;" 
 
 " He, 'mid the heaps of slain, and hottest strife 
 
 With glory perish'd for another's wife." 
 
 Thus brooding envy points her hidden stings 
 
 In sullen whispers at the Brother- Kings : 
 
 While they, on distant Ilion's hostile shore 
 
 Sleep in renown " and dream of wars no more."* 
 
 * Pope's Iliad, 3. 
 
FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 
 
 WITH Hate, and War, and Carnage in her train 
 Of hosts and fleets the snare, in luckless hour, 
 
 By earth-sprung Zephyr wafted o'er the main 
 Sail'd the bright Helen from her tapestried 
 bower. 
 
 Fleet in their war-array, the hunter band 
 Across the deep her vans' faint track pursue, 
 
 Move their arm'd barks on Simois' wooded strand, 
 To mix in murd'rous strife their gore-stained 
 crew. 
 
 She came impell'd by Jove's recording ire 
 
 For them who dared the stranger right to wrong 
 
 For them, who then amid the kindred choir, 
 Swell'd the glad chorus of the bridal song. 
 
FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 9 
 
 Chang'd the gay note, unlearn'd the strain of 
 
 joy, 
 
 Now on the woe-wed Paris bid to call, 
 The loud lament from all the towers of Troy 
 
 Mourns for her sons, that bleed around her 
 wall. 
 
 The herdsman thus an infant lion rear'd, 
 Bane of his store, and ruin of his fold, 
 
 In life's first scene to all his home endear'd, 
 Joy of the young, and darling of the old ; 
 
 Then to his bosom oft his fost'rer drew 
 As the young offspring of his consort's bed, 
 
 His eyes beam'd pleasure at the voice he knew, 
 And his tongue fawn'd upon the hand that fed. 
 
 But when to age and years matur'd he grew, 
 He proved the nature of his earlier sire, 
 
 And while the herds in mingled heaps he slew, 
 Thus for his nurture paid the grateful hire. 
 
10 FROM THE AGAMEMNON. 
 
 O'er the lone house, with blood and death defil'd, 
 A guest unhid, his horrid feast he spread ; 
 
 A mighty bane, Perdition's gory child, 
 A priest of carnage in the mansion bred. 
 
 She came to lofty Ilion's heaven-built tower, 
 With every art to win and charm to please ; 
 
 Mild as the deep at noon-tide's breezeless hour ; 
 The pride of wealth, and luxury of ease. 
 
 She came, light glancing from her roving eye, 
 The soft and soul-consuming dart of love ; 
 
 The torch was lit ; a Fury hover'd nigh ; 
 The knot was fasten'd Ruin burst above. 
 
( II ) 
 
 FROM HORACE. 
 
 DONEC GRATUS ERAM TIBI. 
 
 Hor. WHEN I was lov'd, and nought beside 
 
 Your envied kisses stor'd, 
 Happier I liv'd by Tiber's side 
 Than Ilia's fabled lord. 
 
 Lyd. When Lydia could your wishes crown, 
 
 Nor Chloe fed your flame, 
 Not Roman Ilia's fair renown 
 Could vie with Lydia's name. 
 
 Hor. Me, mistress of the golden lyre, 
 
 Her slave has Chloe made, 
 For whom I'd brave death's vengeful ire, 
 Would death but spare the maid. 
 
12 FROM HORACE. 
 
 Lyd. Me fires with mutual ecstasy 
 
 Calais my lovely joy, 
 For whom I twice would dare to die, 
 Would death but spare the boy. 
 
 Hor. What should my former love return, 
 
 And lead me back to you, 
 For Chloe I no longer burn, 
 For Lydia pant anew. 
 
 Lyd . Though he, as every star be fair, 
 
 Thou fickle as the sea, 
 Yet still with thee to live I'll dare, 
 I'd dare to die with thee. 
 
EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.i82i. 
 
 NOT theirs the beauties that to thee belong, 
 O Jersey, Empress of th' adoring throng ; 
 Not theirs the glories that in Foley shine, 
 Or beam, proud Rutland, from a brow like thine-, 
 
 Not theirs the young and winning charms that 
 
 spread 
 
 In life and lustre round our Graham's head, 
 Play in the tangles of her glossy hair, 
 And modulate a form, how more than fair ! 
 
 Not theirs the fresh and sparkling tints that speak 
 In playful eloquence thro* Belgrave's cheek ; 
 The classic mould of Vernon's magic face, 
 Paget's dark eye, or Richmond's milder grace* 
 
14 
 
 TO LADY M. S. ON HER MARRIAGE. 
 
 1821. 
 
 Go ! peerless maid, whose modest beauty warms, 
 Whose artless virtue without awing, charms : 
 Go, and be blest ! a happy, honour'd bride, 
 The world's bright wonder, as thy consort's pride. 
 Still would the muse once more recall the theme, 
 That fires, yet sanctifies, her idle dream ; 
 All that thou e'er hast been, still bid thee be, 
 And breathe a prayer, as innocent as thee. 
 Pleas'd she escapes from Fashion's glitt'ring ray, 
 And all the frivolous, and all the gay, 
 To court thy milder orb, whose hallow'd light 
 Beams, but to bless, on Man's bewilder'd sight. 
 
TO LADY M. S. ON HER MARRIAGE. 15 
 
 May health and honours on thy days attend, 
 May virtue guide thy path, and gild thine end, 
 May thy young charms with purer lustre glow, 
 Thy early worth on firmer basis grow, 
 And while increasing years waft added loves, 
 Thy life but follow what thy heart approves. 
 
16 
 
 TO A SISTER IN SCOTLAND, AUGUST, 1823. 
 
 SAY, as thy wand'ring feet now tread the soil 
 To ancient song, and mountain-legend dear, 
 
 Say what fair scenes have crown'd thy roving 
 
 toil, 
 And wake again their lov'd remembrance here. 
 
 With thee again, by fond illusion led, 
 
 O'er heath, and hill, and dale, I seem to go ; 
 
 With thee each rich or rugged path to tread, 
 Through fertile Clydesdale, or 'mid dark Glencoe. 
 
 Onward with thee my fancy wings her flight 
 O'er every varied scene of broad Strathearn ; 
 
 Wood-girt Duneira, Drummond's princely height, 
 And smiling Ochtertyre's romantic burn. 
 
TO A SISTER IN SCOTLAND. IJ 
 
 Thence 'mid the Northern minstrel's hallow'd 
 ground, 
 
 His own Loch Katrine opes her waters blue ; 
 Through the wild Trosach's deepest glen I bound, 
 
 Or climb the wooded cliffs of Benvenue. 
 
 Or where with ampler sweep round hill and dale, 
 Matchless Loch Lomond girds each fairy isle ; 
 
 Or where embosom'd in their highland vale, 
 Glitter the lawns and towers of high Argyll. 
 
 But go ! to rougher scenes I see thee haste, 
 Thro' wilds untenanted to bend thy way ; 
 
 Giant Ben Nevis towers above the waste, 
 
 And frowns o'er dark Lochaber's winding bay. 
 
 And when from high Dunrobin's castled steep, 
 Where love and worth your welcome footsteps 
 
 call, 
 
 Ye gaze in rapture on the subject deep, 
 Or share the pleasures of its friendly hall, 
 
 c 
 
l8 TO A SISTER IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 Then spare one thought on him, who ere he goes 
 To lands of strangers, and a distant sphere, 
 
 On thee, on all thy fellow group, bestows 
 An uncouth rhyming, and a love sincere. 
 
ON A TREE IN THE ISOLA BELLA. 
 
 WHERE BUONAPARTE HAD CARVED SOME LETTERS 
 BEFORE THE BATTLE OF MARENGO 1823. 
 
 PERCHANCE as here, beside the crystal flood, 
 In pleas'd repose, the hero-despot stood, 
 Where Art and Nature emulously smile 
 With all their claims on each enchanted isle, 
 The scene's own soft contagion gently stole 
 O'er each stern purpose of his toil-worn soul : 
 Perchance e'en here he grieved awhile to mar 
 Such climes of beauty with the waste of war ; 
 Wish'd that the tumult of his days might cease 
 In some bright vale, in some blest home of peace ; 
 Sigh'd for the rest he ne'er was doom'd to gain ; 
 Then, rush'd to conquer on Marengo's plain. 
 
 C 2 
 
NAPLES. 
 
 YES ! I have gazed from high Misenum's steep 
 On the blue waters of the Tyrrhene deep ; 
 Thence seen display'd before my ravish'd eyes, 
 The glowing rivalry of seas and skies ; 
 All the bright classic shore around me lay, 
 Each vine-clad precipice, each silv'ry bay : 
 There rose fair Pozzuoli's patrician bowers, 
 Baiae's rent fanes, and Cumas's mould'ring towers; 
 Green wav'd the copse round lone Avernus' side, 
 And the rays glittered o'er Foscaro's' tide. 
 Capri's steep rock, and Ischia's sloping height 
 Trac'd their dark outline in the vivid light ; 
 While o'er the scene's whole calm yet bright repose 
 With soften'd terrors far Vesuvius rose. 
 
NAPLES. 21 
 
 No step of earth I view'd but breath'd its tale, 
 Since the first gleaming of the Phrygian sail, 
 That wafted to this strand this Trojan throng, 
 Whence sprang great Rome, and Virgil's deathless 
 
 song; 
 
 Through Italy's free glorious age of fame, 
 To her last days of luxury and shame : 
 When here the purple masters of mankind 
 The gorgeous cares of Empire, pleas'd, resign'd, 
 And sought beneath Campania's azure sky 
 Charms that a subject world could ne'er supply ; 
 While Rome's degen'rate nobles, fear'd no more 
 On Parthia's cliffs or Africa's burning shore, 
 Sprung from the chiefs, who fought on Zama's 
 
 plain, 
 
 Or dyed with Punic blood yon rolling main, 
 Forgot to sigh, in Baias's sunny bay, 
 For virtue lost, and freedom cast away. 
 
 May 6th, 1824. 
 
ON VIRGIL'S TOMB. 
 
 AND dost thou sleep e'en here, thou mighty shade ! 
 
 Can yon grey mound be so indeed divine ? 
 Was all of thee that could remain here laid ? 
 
 All save thy deathless, save thy matchless line ? 
 
 For none like thine, howe'er the creed be wrong, 
 E'er o'er my soul held such resistless sway : 
 
 Not e'en blind Homer's universal song, 
 
 Not my own Shakespeare's wild and passioned 
 lay. 
 
 And oh ! the vision to my view unfurFd, 
 That makes thy tomb be worthy e'en of thee, 
 
 Sea, earth, and sky, the brightest of the world : 
 Beneath me is thine own Parthenope. 
 
ON VIRGIL'S TOMB. 23 
 
 Still where the vine's young tendrils freshest creep, 
 Where all is lovely that is not sublime, 
 
 Honour'd thy grave, and peaceful be thy sleep ; 
 Art's fav'rite son, and Nature's fairest clime. 
 
 Naples, May 15, 1824. 
 
BOLOGNA. 
 
 FAREWELL Bologna ! peace be on thy walls, 
 Thy long-drawn porticoes, thy marble halls : 
 I would not sing of thee because thy plain 
 With plenty girds the Adriatic main, 
 That in thy valleys blooms the purple vine, 
 Or loves to climb the neighb'ring Apennine. 
 But that the muse would fondly seek to raise 
 At painting's sister shrine one note of praise. 
 With heart unerring, since to Nature true, 
 The bold design here each Caracci drew ; 
 Here great Domenichino caught the flame 
 Surpass'd, but not obscur'd his master's fame ; 
 Here on the canvas Guido learnt to trace 
 The might of Passion and the soul of Grace, 
 
BOLOGNA. 25 
 
 The virgin's glance of love, the anguish wild 
 Of frantic mothers o'er a slaughter'd child : 
 With sterner lineaments and deeper shade 
 Guercino's skill each manly limb array'd, 
 While soft Albano from the Paphian grove 
 Stole every gentle form of infant love. 
 
ROME. 
 
 O THOU eternal Rome ! for to have been 
 Is still to be, the world's imperial queen ; 
 Who but must feel thy long bright tale of fame 
 O'er his rapt heart as wide an empire claim, 
 As when on conquest's wing thy eagle flew 
 Where'er the billows roll'd, the breezes blew ; 
 As when the sun, that beam'd but on thy sway, 
 Saw not thy rival 'neath his fav'ring ray. 
 
 'Mid each dim vestige of thy seven-fold hill, 
 How fallen, but how beauteous art thou still. 
 Home of the wise, the warlike, and the free, 
 E'en in thy ruin what is like to thee ? 
 Not earth's wide compass boasts a scene so bright 
 As the lone relics of thy vanish'd might. 
 
ROME. 27 
 
 Nor could the sons of all thy pomp and power 
 More fondly love thee in thy loftiest hour, 
 Not 'mid the Lictor band's encircling state, 
 Not in the Forum's high and free debate, 
 Not in the mingling frenzy of the war, 
 Not in the rapture of the victor's car, 
 Than he, who dares to frame this lay, and be 
 Not all o'erwhelm'd in gazing e'en at thee : 
 Who, wand'ring 'mid thy scatter'd wrecks alone, 
 Inhales each vision of thy glory gone, 
 Explores the moulding arch, the shatter'd fane, 
 The storied mount, the desolated plain, 
 Or idly stoops to cull the flowers that wave, 
 Fair and inglorious, o'er a Cassar's grave. 
 
 June 3, 1824. 
 
ON LEAVING ITALY. 
 
 MY steps are turn'd to Albion, yet I sigh 
 
 To leave Ausonia's blue and balmy sky, 
 
 I fain would linger 'mid her hills and plains, 
 
 Their living beauty or their bright remains, 
 
 Still tread each ruin's hallow'd round, and still 
 
 Explore the windings of each classic rill. 
 
 The cypress grove, the vineyard's trellis'd shade, 
 
 The olive thicket, and the poplar glade. 
 
 My steps are turn'd to Albion, yet I grieve 
 That this should be my last Italian eve ; 
 And ye, eternal snows, whom now I view 
 From Turin's vale in twilight's roseate hue, 
 Whom Nature to the land a barrier gave 
 Sublime to view, but impotent to save, 
 
ON LEAVING ITALY. 2Q 
 
 Thus the next sun shall o'er you set, but I 
 Must gaze upon it in a colder sky. 
 
 My steps are turn'd to Albion, and oh, shame 
 To son of hers who thrills not at that name. 
 Call'd by th' inspiring sound before my eyes 
 My home's lov'd scenes, my country's glories rise, 
 The free and mighty land that gave me birth, 
 Her moral beauty and her public worth, 
 All that can make the patriot bosom swell 
 Yet one more sigh bright Italy farewell. 
 
 June 1 4th. 
 
LORD OF ALL LIFE. 
 
 LORD of all life, and strength, and power, and love, 
 Oh not to me, oh not to me, 'tis given, 
 
 To breathe thy name supreme, attun'd above 
 To songs of seraphs and the choir of Heaven. 
 
 Oh not to me, to me, 'tis given to soar 
 To thy unmeasur'd, thy eternal height, 
 
 Where sainted spirits tremble and adore, 
 
 And angels shrink before the excess of light ; 
 
 Where flow the joys of everlasting years 
 
 No tongue can utter, and no heart conceive ; 
 
 Where glad creation bids the echoing spheres 
 Their choral harmony of rapture weave. 
 
LORD OF ALL LIFE. 3! 
 
 And if on earth those strains e'er deign'd to 
 dwell, 
 
 Thy breath alone was potent to inspire 
 With honey'd sweetness David's chorded spell, 
 
 With fervid transport rapt Isaiah's lyre. 
 
 4 
 
 When the full tide of prophecy and song 
 Foretold the Heir of all thy bless'd abode 
 
 A stranger in this world of want and wrong, 
 The man of suffering and the atoning God. 
 
 Or if in any son of human birth 
 
 A portion of that flame e'er seem'd to glow, 
 The fire divine, whose source is not on earth, 
 
 T'was Milton's once, and only his below. 
 
 Then seek, O Muse, no further to profane 
 
 The hopes, the truths, that live beyond the sky, 
 
 How cold must be thine uninspired strain, 
 How powerless thy mortal minstrelsy. 
 
32 LORD OF ALL LIFE. 
 
 Content, that to thy lawful gaze is spread 
 
 Fancy's wide realm and Nature's boundless store, 
 
 There range, by youth's permitted visions led, 
 Idle but innocent, nor ask for more. 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 LINES 
 
 PLACED ON SOME FRAGMENTS BROUGHT FROM 
 SUNIUM TO CHATSWORTH. 
 
 THESE fragments stood on Sunium's airy steep ; 
 
 They rear'd aloft Minerva's guardian shrine ; 
 Beneath them roll'd the blue ^Sgean deep ; 
 
 And the Greek pilot hail'd them as divine. 
 
 Such was e'en then their look of calm repose, 
 As wafted round them came the sounds of 
 fight, 
 
 When the glad shout of conqu'ring Athens rose 
 O'er the long track of Persia's broken flight. 
 
 D 
 
34 LINES, &C. 
 
 Tho' clasp'd by prostrate worshippers no more, 
 They yet shall breathe a thrilling lesson here, 
 
 Tho' distant from their own immortal shore, 
 The spot they guard is still to freedom dear. 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 MOSCOW. 
 
 OH sacred passion, kindled at our birth, 
 Allow'd by heaven, altho' allied to earth, 
 Mock'd by the cold, and by the vain decried, 
 Of every generous soul the test and pride, 
 Love of our country ! while I gaze around, 
 Thou, only thou, hast hallow'd all the ground. 
 Unmov'd I might have view'd the glittering scenes 
 Of sunny dwellings and of hanging greens ; 
 The colour'd cupola, the gilded spire, 
 Had won no murmur from the listless lyre ; 
 Though in the mazes of each crowded street 
 The pomp of Europe and of Asia meet, 
 The costly grandeur of barbaric times, 
 The gather'd products of a hundred climes 
 
 D 2 
 
36 MOSCOW. 
 
 That court the sun, or brave the icy gales, 
 By Irtish streams, and Georgia's perfum'd vales : 
 Think you for ought despotic power can bring 
 A freeborn Muse had ever deign'd to sing ? 
 No, by the theme that this faint lay inspires, 
 The gleaming, Moscow, of thy patriot fires, 
 A saving beacon 'mid thy country's woes, 
 Rapid and wide the bright destruction rose ; 
 Burst from each palace, gleam'd o'er every fane, 
 And shed fierce splendour on the tented plain. 
 Flame rolled on flame, while with admiring awe 
 His alter'd fate the pale invader saw, 
 Mark'd in the blazing dome, the crashing tower, 
 A type and omen of his waning power, 
 Then with blind impotence of fury rav'd ; 
 Moscow had perish'd, but the world was sav'd : 
 While Freedom, 'mid the undying deeds of Fame 
 Envied a sacrifice she could not claim. 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN MARCH, 1826. 
 
 DOWN to the dust, degenerate Oxford, bow 
 The lofty glories* of thy tower-crown'd brow ; 
 Bid Isis mourn through all her alder glades, 
 Bid thy sad Muses leave their tainted shades; 
 For not to them thy once-lov'd haunts belong, 
 Hallow'd no more to learning or to song. 
 
 Say while a band of irritated foes 
 Scare the deep slumbers of thy long repose, 
 Was there none living whose transcendent fame 
 Could guard thy honours and attest thy fame ? 
 Yes, thefe was one whose grateful spirit lov'd 
 The classic precincts where his youth had rov'd, 
 And panted, eager in thy cause to wield 
 
38 LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH, 1826. 
 
 The sure protection of his temper'd shield. 
 His various eloquence bade language pour 
 Treasures undreamt of from her ample store, 
 Each theme in its harmonious order lit 
 With graceful wisdom or with easy wit, 
 As reason or as fancy bore the sway, 
 Or brightly clear, or innocently gay. 
 Nor form'd alone our passions to control, 
 To please, to fix, and fascinate tfre soul, 
 True to his country's destinies, his mind 
 Watched o'er the growing welfare of mankind ; 
 Sent Britain's flag with wider range unfurl'd 
 To waft new wealth around a smiling world ; 
 And prompt to serve, and powerful to save, 
 Breath'd hope and freedom to the toiling slave. 
 Then in the zenith of his fame and power, 
 In satisfied ambition's happiest hour, 
 He paus'd a moment in the high career 
 To pay the tribute of his homage here ; 
 And sought in more than filial love to crown 
 With his own Oxford's smile, ev'n his renown. 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH, 1826. 39 
 
 Ye cloister'd walls, ye fair and lordly towers, 
 
 Ye classic groves, and academic bowers, 
 
 Shades that have nurs'd by yonder winding stream, 
 
 The lofty musing and the idle dream, 
 
 Majestic records of an earlier age, 
 
 Haunts of the bard, and mansions of the sage, 
 
 Your fatal genius hover'd darkly nigh, 
 
 What Canning sought, when Oxford could deny, 
 
 Shrunk from the excess of light to deeper shade, 
 
 And fled to mute intolerance for aid. 
 
LINES 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE FUNERAL OF MR. CANNING. 
 
 CANNING is dead. I heard the sound, and cried, 
 " Let funeral splendours wait on him who died ; 
 Let all the land he liv'd to serve and save 
 Heap gorgeous honour round his patriot grave." 
 
 I stood beside his tomb : no choral strain 
 Peal'd through the aisle above the mourning train ; 
 But purer, holier, seem'd to rise above 
 The silent sorrows of a people's love. 
 
 No banner'd scroll, no trophied car was there, 
 No gleaming arms, no torches' murky glare ; 
 The plain and decent homage best defm'd 
 The simple tenor of his ample mind. 
 
LINES, &C. 41 
 
 His hard-earn'd, self-acquir'd, enduring fame 
 Needs not what wealth may buy, or birth may 
 
 claim ; 
 
 His worth, his deeds, no storied urns confine, 
 The page of England's glory is their shrine. 
 
 Nor hers alone ? Go : mark the dawn of peace 
 That gilds the struggle of regen'rate Greece ; 
 On Lisbon's rock see Britain's flag unfurl'd, 
 See freedom bursting o'er an infant world. 
 
 Ask ye, how some have lov'd, how all revere ? 
 Survey the group that bend around his bier ; 
 Read well the heaving breast, the stifled moan, 
 Kings with their kingdoms could not win that 
 groan. 
 
 Away ! a scene like this brooks no control ; 
 Theme of my lyre, and master of my soul, 
 In dreams more rapt than ever bard has sung 
 How my young fancy on his accents hung. 
 
42 LINES, &C. 
 
 Others, they tell, more terribly sublime 
 Have hurl'd their thunder against fraud and crime; 
 Could harping seraphs charm our earthly sphere 
 While he but spoke, I had not wish'd to hear. 
 
 His was the high indomitable zeal, 
 The spirit to aspire, the heart to feel ; 
 The mind with every brilliant treasure stor'd, 
 So vast, so mild, so fear'd, and so ador'd. 
 
 Disease unnerv'd him, calumny assail'd, 
 His labours paus'd not, nor his spirit quail'd ; 
 In its last tortures of its frail abode 
 His soul was turn'd to England, and to God. 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, 1829. 
 
 FROM grateful nations to assenting skies, 
 While shouts of joy and hymns of concord rise ; 
 While worthier bards, and lyres more sweetly 
 
 strung, 
 
 Catch the glad accents from the patriot's tongue, 
 In Wellesley's honour wreath the laurell'd verse, 
 The healing victories of Peace rehearse, 
 And in the hero of a hundred plains 
 Proclaim the avenger of his country's chains ; 
 My unambitious Muse must leave awhile 
 The pomps that glitter and the crowds that smile, 
 And from the honour' d living turn, to shed 
 One tear above the still lamented dead. 
 
44 THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, 1829. 
 
 Lo ! as I speak, a shadowy train appears, 
 The wise and eloquent of other years ; 
 They, at whose name our feeble spirits bow, 
 Their age's wonder once its worship now : 
 Nor yet unmindful of their earthly home, 
 In still and solemn jubilee they come, 
 Pause to acknowledge this auspicious day, 
 Own the high call, and swell the bright array. 
 Stateliest and first of all that gifted throng, 
 With slow and measur'd tread, Pitt moves along. 
 Nor yet foregoes the aspect of command 
 That awed the spirits of a doubting land, 
 The lofty port, the conscious glance of sway, 
 While to the patriot band he points the way, 
 Accomplish'd views his own deferr'd intent, 
 Waves his proud arm, and nods his pleas'd assent. 
 
 See on his steps a rival shade attend, 
 In all beside a foe ; but here, a friend. 
 The statesman of a vast but gentle mind, 
 Champion of freedom, patron of mankind ; 
 
THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, 1829. 45 
 
 Who claim'd for young America the right 
 For which she bent to sue, and rose to fight, 
 Who chas'd extortion from her Indian plain, 
 Who riv'd the links of Afric's torturing chain, 
 Who bade the groaning universe be free : 
 Speak then, green Erin, did he feel for thee ? 
 
 A step more buoyant, a more sparkling eye, 
 
 Arrest the gaze, and Grattan passes by ; 
 
 Greet him, thou lovely isle, from whom he 
 
 brought 
 
 The fervid gesture, the impassion'd thought, 
 The mind serenely brave, and simply wise, 
 Rich as thy soil, and tender as thy skies, 
 The flow of language, and the tide of heart, 
 That reach'd the heights, but scorn'd the aids of 
 
 art: 
 
 Thine was his midnight care, his morning theme, 
 His patient labour, and his gorgeous dream ; 
 Thine in each changing scene of chequ'red life, 
 The calm of solitude, the clash of strife, 
 
46 THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, l82Q. 
 
 Thine, when his meditative step would rove 
 Thro' his romantic Wicklow's mountain grove, 
 Thine, when aloft his lion spirit rose 
 'Mid the full conclave of his country's foes, 
 Tore from detected fraud the flimsy veil, 
 And bade corruption's palsied legions quail. 
 Oh ! that he might, on this bright-omen'd day, 
 Bask in the promise of its dawning ray, 
 And bless the younger hands which now restore 
 To Ireland all that he once gave before. 
 
 And thou ! whom still regen'rate nations bless, 
 Whose worth our love, whose loss our tears 
 
 confess, 
 
 Leave, Canning, leave awhile thy long repose 
 From stormy greatness and exalted woes ; 
 Thou radiant, injur'd, vindicated shade ! 
 Behold, the expiating rite is paid ; 
 Thy fierce assailants check their keen career, 
 Thy life's last foes heap incense on thy bier : 
 Then let me pluck from triumph's gaudy wreath 
 
THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL, l82Q. 47 
 
 One cypress branch for thy cold corse beneath ; 
 
 Oft has thy voice my fancy captive led, 
 
 I lov'd thee living ; I adore thee dead ; 
 
 And hail with thrilling pride, and added bliss, 
 
 Thy fame asserted by an hour like this. 
 
THE NUPTIALS OF THE DOGE OF 
 VENICE WITH THE ADRIATIC SEA. 
 
 Doge. 
 THOU blue and buoyant wave 
 
 That lav'st my ducal tower, 
 Whom nature to me gave 
 
 For pastime and for power ; 
 I ride upon thy foam, 
 
 I revel by thy side, 
 I claim thee as my home, 
 
 I woo thee for my bride. 
 
 Adriatic. 
 
 Lord of the glitt'ring town, 
 The vineyard and the lea, 
 
NUPTIALS, &C. 49 
 
 The mountain and the down, 
 What would'st thou on the sea ? 
 
 Thy mandates cannot sway 
 My waters as they roll ; 
 
 My wild waves in their play 
 Will spurn at thy control. 
 
 Doge. 
 
 The portion of my hand 
 
 No monarch ever bore, 
 A gift from every land, 
 
 A spoil from ev'ry shore ; 
 Lo ! Venice is thine own, 
 
 Her beauty and her might, 
 The lions of her throne, 
 
 The bowers of her delight. 
 
 Her massive domes and halls, 
 
 Her pillar' d corridors, 
 Her painting-covered walls, 
 
 Her marble chequer'd floors ; 
 
 E 
 
50 THE NUPTIALS OF THE DOGE OF VENICE 
 
 The portico and shrine, 
 
 The arsenal and quay, 
 Fair daughter of the brine, 
 
 I give them all to thee. 
 
 Adriatic. 
 
 I bathe Gargano's steep, 
 
 Otranto's castled tower, 
 Ravenna's mould'ring keep, 
 
 Ancona's Doric bower ; 
 But, Venice, on my strand 
 
 I see not aught like thee ; 
 Then, first upon the land 
 
 Be first upon the sea. 
 
 Ev'ry gem of the wave 
 
 Shall deck the spouse I wed, 
 
 Of my pearl-lighted cave, 
 My coral-pillowed bed ; 
 
 All precious things that grow 
 Beneath the amber-shower, 
 
WITH THE ADRIATIC SEA. 5! 
 
 A thousand fathoms low, 
 
 Shall be the sea-maid's dower. 
 
 Doge. 
 I pledge to thee my vow, 
 
 Long as my ruling star 
 Binds commerce to my prow, 
 
 And conquest to my car : 
 Each accurs'd Moslem slave 
 
 From thy waters shall flee ; 
 None may tread on thy wave 
 
 But the faithful and free. 
 
 Adriatic. 
 Thy fleets, where'er they sail, 
 
 For glory or for gain, 
 Through sunshine and through gale, 
 
 I'll speed across the main ; 
 The thunder of my deep 
 
 Shall rescue thee from harm, 
 I'll shed, too, round thy sleep, 
 
 The music of my calm. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 NUPTIALS, &C. 
 
 Doge. 
 Uplift the streamer bright, 
 
 Upraise the golden spear, 
 Each armour-girded knight, 
 
 Each gay-clad gondolier ; 
 A thousand voices sing, 
 
 As in their azure tide 
 I drop the mystic ring, 
 
 My Adriatic bride. 
 
 Adriatic. 
 
 Strike your ocean-tun'd shell, 
 
 Sister choirs of the deep, 
 In your emerald cell 
 
 Lofty festival keep : 
 Chief of the countless gold ! 
 
 Chief of the fearless sword ! 
 The nuptial rite is told, 
 
 I take thee for my lord. 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 ODE TO THE NEW SOVEREIGN OF 
 GREECE.* 
 
 1829, 
 
 WHEN Jason hew'd the ancient pine, 
 That waved in Pelion's hoary steep, 
 
 And first of man's aspiring line, 
 
 Launch'd the oar'd bark upon the deep; 
 
 Amid the blooming Argive band, 
 
 High on the deck young Orpheus stood ; 
 
 Fearless he view'd the lessening strand, 
 Th' expanding sky, the boundless flood. 
 
 * The first five stanzas are closely translated from the opening 
 of a beautiful Italian ode to Montgolfier, the aeronaut, by Monti. 
 
54 ODE TO THE 
 
 Then with a flying, hand he swept 
 His mother's gift, the golden lyre, 
 
 And at the Thracian accents slept 
 Of wind and wave the warring ire; 
 
 In wonder rapt, from near and far, 
 The hundred maids of ocean came, 
 
 And Neptune, on his bounding car 
 Of winged coursers, dropped the rein. 
 
 The bard of the Odrisian hill 
 To Argos' glory tun'd the lay, 
 
 While every Grecian bosom's thrill 
 Of inspiration own'd the sway. 
 
 The western breezes that of yore 
 Wafted the heroes of the Fleece, 
 
 Now gently to their own glad shore 
 Woo the new lord of rescued Greece. 
 
NEW SOVEREIGN OF GREECE. 55 
 
 To speed his galley o'er the sea, 
 
 To fan the breeze, to smooth the tide, 
 
 Ah ! why has Fate's perverse decree 
 That gave the chief, the bard denied ? 
 
 Of ancient line, of princely birth, 
 
 Go loftier destinies attain ; 
 Upon a fair and classic earth, 
 
 O'er freemen, and o'er Greeks to reign. 
 
 The vessel wins her easy way 
 
 Through sunny isles and azure seas ; 
 
 Pause not, by soft Cythera's bay, 
 Nor 'mid the greeting Cyclades. 
 
 On glides the prow beneath the shade 
 Of Sunium's column-crested steep, 
 
 Where home-bound crews their course delay'd, 
 And shouted " Athens " from the deep ;* 
 
 * Soph. Ajax. 
 
56 ODE TO THE 
 
 The name that rouses and inspires 
 Leap to the land, ascend thy throne ; 
 
 The dauntless swords, the matchless lyres, 
 Shall start to life, and be thine own. 
 
 Again within Minerva's wall 
 
 Bid Painting glow and Sculpture gleam, 
 Again Philosophy recall 
 
 To the still groves of Academe. 
 
 To native purity restore 
 
 The sounds that dropp'd from Plato's tongue, 
 Or thunder'd from the Attic shore 
 
 O'er Macedon terrific rung. 
 
 For thee her wing the bee shall lade 
 On wild Hymettus* thymy hill ; 
 
 For thee beneath the olive shade 
 Cephisus wind his storied rill. 
 
NEW SOVEREIGN OF GREECE. 57 
 
 O'er high Taygetus shall bound 
 Th' elastic forms of Spartan maids, 
 
 And clear Sperchius waft the sound 
 Of lowing herds from (Eta's glades. 
 
 Go, ruler of th' immortal clime, 
 
 Chief of the gifted and the free, 
 Call back thy Hellas to her prime ; 
 
 She yet retains Thermopylae. 
 
 By Malia's * wave sleeps Sparta's lord, 
 That narrow path protects thy throne ; 
 
 If navies waft the turban'd horde, 
 Go meet thy foes at Marathon. 
 
 And if this lyre has dwelt too long 
 Amid the haunts of song and strife, 
 
 To thee more hallow'd cares belong, 
 To guard in peace the cross of life. 
 
 * Thermopylae was situated on the Sinus Maliacus. 
 
IMPROMPTU CHARADE. 
 
 MY first is lord beneath the sky, 
 
 O'er field and waste, o'er tree and tower, 
 
 O'er all that live, o'er all that die, 
 
 O'er sorrow's day, and pleasure's hour. 
 
 My dog, my gun, my pony bring, 
 
 I'll roam along the heath-clad 'height ; 
 
 Soon the young brood are on the wing, 
 And from my second take their flight. 
 
 See now upon my luckless whole 
 The hour of sad discovery come, 
 
 Torn from the favourites of his soul, 
 Doom'd to forego his former home. 
 
 Castle Howard, 1830. 
 
( 59 ) 
 
 LEANDER. 
 
 THE night is dark, my torch is bright, 
 It knows love's soft and shadow'd hour, 
 
 Come my Leander, come to-night, 
 And rest thee in my turret bower. 
 
 There wait thee here, for all is thine, 
 The fragrant oil, the downy vest, 
 
 The cooling fruit, the sparkling wine, 
 These, and thy Hero's constant breast. 
 
 The night is calm, my torch is still, 
 It shoots across the rippling tide, 
 
 It gleams athwart Sigeum's hill, 
 And lights thee to thy lonely bride. 
 
6o LEANDER. 
 
 Thy young limbs win their easy way 
 Thro' meeting seas and currents strong ; 
 
 Thy long hair floats upon the spray ; 
 Leander, list to Hero's song. 
 
 The night is chang'd, my torch is dim, 
 Turn, my Leander, backward turn ; 
 
 The expiring brands I cannot trim, 
 The flickering sparks no longer burn. 
 
 Wait till yon scudding clouds be past, 
 The rash design no further urge ; 
 
 Tempt not to-night the rising blast, 
 Trust not to-night the swelling surge. 
 
 The night is wild, my torch is out, 
 Loud swells the elemental war, 
 
 I sink, I madden at the doubt, 
 A star, ye pitying heavens, one star ! 
 
LEANDER. 6l 
 
 What mingled with the tempest's roar ? 
 
 It was Leander's dying cry ; 
 What gleaming form rolls on to shore ? 
 
 Leander's corse ; die, Hero, die. 
 
 Chatsworth, 1830. 
 
ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 
 1832. 
 
 BE not our title scorn'd if wide domain, 
 If smiling nature, if triumphant art, 
 
 If high tradition, vindicate the strain, 
 
 Yorkshire may claim, and will maintain her part. 
 
 List, doubting jester if there be that jest 
 While with a faltering voice and trembling hand 
 
 I call proud names from their historic rest, 
 And point to all the beauties of our land. 
 
 Go, where the Don's young waters brightly glide, 
 'Mid tufted woods and legendary caves ; 
 
 No dragon prowls on Wharncliffe's sylvan side, 
 Or scares the current of the peaceful waves. 
 
ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 63 
 
 Then onward Sheffield's busier haunts survey, 
 Where art and industry their power reveal, 
 
 That power that moulds with well-adjusted sway 
 Each pliant form of adamantine steel. 
 
 Pass not the lordly pile of Wentworth's line, 
 To patriot worth and social friendship dear ; 
 
 There love yet gilds Fitzwilliam's mild decline 
 And gentle virtues weep round Milton's bier. 
 
 Where Wakefield rears her fair and fretted spire 
 No banner'd roses float o'er fields of gore ; 
 
 Gay villas and their clust'ring groves retire, 
 And golden Ceres piles her massive store. 
 
 The muse, less daring than the Argive raft, 
 Shrinks from the classic region of the Fleece ; 
 
 How vain an idle rhymester's idle craft, 
 To hymn the trophies of Britannia's peace 
 
64 ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 
 
 Still, Commerce, thine unfetter'd track pursue, 
 Court torrid zephyrs, brave the icy gale, 
 
 Rivet Creation's severed links anew, 
 With thy light rudder and thy roving sail. 
 
 Crown'd with the myrtle, vine, and olive leaf, 
 Before thy peaceful keel chase gory strife, 
 
 Waft to each want that visits man, relief, 
 The lamp of knowledge, and the cross of life. 
 
 But thou, coy maiden of the rustic shell, 
 
 Hie from yon busy haunts, where Airdale leads 
 
 Thy silent step, o'er tangled brake and dell, 
 Thro' wooded slopes and intermingled meads. 
 
 Or where romantic Wharfe, 'mid wilder steeps, 
 Tosses the gladness of his torrent spray, 
 
 Round Bolton's shrine with softer murmur creeps, 
 Then winds thro' opening plains his ampler way. 
 
ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 65 
 
 All lovely Bolton ! tho' no incense roll 
 
 O'er cloister'd courts by holy footsteps trod, 
 
 Where, from earth's thousand altars, could the soul 
 Hold a more rapt communion with its God ? 
 
 As Clifford erst, in Barden's neighbouring tower, 
 The shepherd Lord, unscath'd by civil jars, 
 
 Undazzled by the blaze of sudden power, 
 Train'd his meek spirit 'mid the silent stars. 
 
 Vaunt not Helvetian hills, Ausonian vales, 
 Vaunt not each painted, each poetic scene ; 
 
 Still, still I cling to Craven's pastoral dales, 
 Their purple heather and their emerald green. 
 
 Pause, my bewildered harp, nor leave unprais'd 
 Farnley's green upland, Harewood's stately 
 
 glade, 
 
 The antique pile by mail-clad Templars rais'd, 
 Backfall's wild glen, and Bramham's alley'd 
 shade. 
 
66 ADDRESS OF THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 
 
 Ye towers of Pomfret ! in yon blighted round, 
 No rose shall blossom, and no muse shall sing ; 
 
 Blood, blood bedews the rank and tainted ground 
 Of unarm'd nobles and an uncrown'd king. 
 
 Nor gaze unmov'd on Ebor's ancient wall ; 
 
 The purple masters of imperial power 
 Chang'd for its guarded hold, at honour's call, 
 
 Their Latin mount, or bright Byzantine bower. 
 
 Our peaceful streets no stranger legions fill, 
 No Eastern pomps in gay procession smile ; 
 
 But say, can Roman power, or Grecian skill, 
 O'ermatch the grandeurs of our Gothic pile. 
 
 This lyre might linger with too fond a praise 
 On Vanburgh's airy domes, and sculptur'd halls; 
 
 On,to the sterner works of earlier days, 
 Byland's rent fane and Gilling's ivied walls. 
 
ADDRESS TO THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 67 
 
 In Helmsley's tower no Villiers revels now, 
 On yonder hills he met untimely doom ; 
 
 At Rivaulx' shrine no sandall'd beadsmen bow, 
 But Nature's self has canoniz'd their tomb. 
 
 See Fountains' yet more massive glories rise, 
 On Studeley's lawns see spring eternal bloom ; 
 
 Let Wensley's fertile vale arrest thine eyes, 
 Richmond's gay terraces and castled gloom. 
 
 From Calder's fount to Cleveland's mossy hill, 
 From Humber's tide to Skipton's mountain hold, 
 
 All hues and forms the varied canvas fill, 
 The rich, the soft, the fertile, and the bold. 
 
 Mark where yon rocky barrier fronts the main, 
 And seems the guardian of the favour'd land ; 
 
 Oft has its iron strength repell'd the Dane, 
 Or the arm'd barks of Norway's rugged strand. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 ADDRESS TO THE YORKSHIRE ANNUAL. 
 
 Mark Scarborough's keep, and Whitby's shatter'd 
 aisle, 
 
 Once the proud sea-mark of the troubled deep ; 
 While Mulgrave's tower still views old ocean smile 
 
 From its lone crag and wood-embosom'd steep. 
 
 The darker spoils domestic struggles yield, 
 May not on page so light as mine be read ; 
 
 How Yorkshire mourn'd o'er Towton's crimson'd 
 
 field, 
 How Fairfax triumph'd while her bravest bled. 
 
 Not now the theme : may all her future years 
 In peace, in wealth, in freedom roll along ; 
 
 Unstain'd by crimes, by conflicts, and by tears, 
 Brighten'd by Virtue, and adorn'd by Song. 
 
69 
 
 THE BIRTH OF RHODES. 
 
 WHEN at creation's radiant dawn uncurFd, 
 Roll'd the grey vapours from a new made 
 
 world, 
 
 Each bright Immortal chose a home below, 
 Which most his presence and his name should 
 
 know. 
 
 Then Jove first trod his Ida's forest bower, 
 And Juno rear'd Mycenae's royal tower; 
 Minerva sat on Sunium's craggy throne, 
 And claim'd the Attic olive for her own ; 
 While Venus shed the lustre of her smile 
 Round high Cythera and her Paphian isle ; 
 No Deity but own'd some honour'd hill, 
 Some hallow'd grove, or consecrated rill, 
 
70 THE BIRTH OF RHODES. 
 
 Phoebus alone, as on the ethereal way 
 
 He sped the flaming coursers of the day, 
 
 Amid the conclave of the clouds forgot, 
 
 Upon the earth he gladdens, found no lot ; 
 
 When lo, far down beneath the glassy tide, 
 
 One hidden shore he view'd, and joyful cried, 
 
 " Change not for me the allotments of the sky, 
 
 Nought can escape Apollo's piercing eye ; 
 
 See in the folds of ocean's azure vest 
 
 A brighter, greener bower than all the rest ; 
 
 Rise, lovely island, from the crystal flood, 
 
 Rise, cloth'd with harvest, vintage, lawn, and 
 
 wood. 
 
 Rhodes be thy name : with shoot elastic, rise, 
 Spurn the salt depths, and bask beneath the 
 
 skies, 
 
 From thy moist surface heave the silvery spray, 
 Spread thy young bosom to my golden ray ; 
 On thee through all the year shall breathe and 
 
 gleam 
 The balmiest zephyr and the brightest beam, 
 
THE BIRTH OF RHODES. 71 
 
 Cities and harbours shall protect thy coast, 
 War, commerce, art, shall be alike thy boast, 
 Thy maids all beautiful, thy sons all brave, 
 And thou, the mistress of thy native wave/' 
 
TO A JESSAMINE TREE. 
 
 MY slight and slender Jessamine tree, 
 
 That bloomest on my border tower, 
 Thou art more dearly lov'd by me 
 
 Than all the wreaths of fairy bower. 
 I ask not, while I near thee dwell, 
 
 Arabia's spice or Syria's rose, 
 Thy light festoons more freshly smell, 
 
 Thy virgin white more purely glows, 
 
 My wild and winsome Jessamine tree, 
 That climbest up the dark grey wall, 
 
 Thy tiny flowrets seem in glee, 
 
 Like silver spray-drops, down to fall : 
 
TO A JESSAMINE TREE. 73 
 
 Say, did they from their leaves thus peep, 
 When mail'd moss-troopers rode the hill, 
 
 When helmed warders pac'd the keep, 
 And bugles blew for '< Belted Will. 1 ' 
 
 My free and feathery Jessamine tree, 
 
 Within the fragrance of thy breath, 
 Yon dungeon grated to its key, 
 
 And the chain'd captive sigh'd for death ; 
 On border fray or feudal crime, 
 
 I dream not while I gaze on thee, 
 The chieftains of that stern old time 
 
 Could ne'er have loved a Jessamine tree. 
 
 Naworth Castle, August, 1832. 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 THE THREE GUESTS. 
 
 THE world was dark, and comfortless, and chill, 
 
 The haunt of sordid care, and hideous ill, 
 
 Till three bright guests, beyond all utterance 
 
 bright, 
 Trod the dull orb, and woke it into light. 
 
 First Beauty came, from soft Idalian bowers, 
 Nurs'd 'mid the stealthy dew of summer flowers ; 
 She came with falt'ring step and downcast eye, 
 She came with mantling blush and melting sigh, 
 She came with brow of sway and glance of flame, 
 In doubt, in hope, in ecstacy, she came. 
 In each mood various, as in each supreme, 
 She scatter'd conquest from her rosy beam, 
 
THE THREE GUESTS. 75 
 
 Subdued alike the needy heirs of toil, 
 The lords of luxury, the sons of spoil, 
 Each sterner passion in its turn controll'd, 
 The thirst of empire and the lust of gold, 
 And saw before her bow the wise and brave, 
 Caesar her suppliant, Solomon her slave. 
 
 Next bounded forth young Poesy her hair 
 In golden tresses floated on the air, 
 Her roving eye a wayward lustre shed, 
 But lofty thought sat throned on her head ; 
 Calm as a seraph, sportive as a child, 
 She trod the rocky beach or heathy wild, 
 On Ilion's mound her earliest laurel grew, 
 Rich with the freshness of immortal dew ; 
 She nurs'd 'mid Attic rills her tragic vein, 
 By smooth Colonus and Egina's main ; 
 To softer raptures thrill'd the lyre awhile 
 With love-taught Sappho in her Lesbian isle ; 
 Urged o'er Olympia's course the foaming steed, 
 In Doric valleys tun'd the pastoral reed, 
 
76 THE THREE GUESTS. 
 
 Peal'd the high harp by Mincio's sedgy tide, 
 Breath'd the soft lute on Arno's vine-clad side ; 
 Nor yet withheld some notes from Britain's clime, 
 Not all unworthy of her elder time ; 
 And still where'er the vocal strain arose 
 'Mid torrid fervours, or eternal snows, 
 Through every large variety of man, 
 Savage or sage, the soft infection ran ; 
 Before the magic of her chorded shell, 
 The captive's chain, the tyrant's madness, fell, 
 And Nature's jarring discord paus'd to hear 
 The borrow'd language of a higher sphere. 
 
 I turn'd again the minstrel's fire was spent ; 
 I gaz'd around the lover's heart was rent ; 
 Neglect, and penury, and change, and death, 
 Spar'd not the glowing form or gifted breath, 
 But quench'd in one stern blight of cold decay 
 Love's purple gleam, and Fancy's meteor ray ; 
 Where are ye, solaces of human kind ? 
 I look'd and Piety remain'd behind ; 
 
THE THREE GUESTS. 77 
 
 Upon her radiant cheek and brow serene, 
 No fever'd throb, no fitful flush, were seen ; 
 Through every changing tide of various life, 
 The gaudy sunshine or the stormy strife, 
 She calmly shook from her resplendent veil 
 The puny drivings of each passing gale, 
 Gave to the earth her transient smile or sigh, 
 Her undetach'd communion to the sky ; 
 Yet, while she long'd for that celestial year 
 Without a limit and without a tear, 
 Still her bright presence with reflected glow 
 Diffus'd her own serenity below 
 The conscious presage of an endless rest, 
 The nether heaven of a pardon'd breast. 
 
FRAGMENT FROM THE LAST OF THE 
 GREEKS. 
 
 THE sun has sunk; 
 But still a bright reflected line of light 
 Plays on the outline of the opposite hills ; 
 While nearer me the palaces and domes 
 Of the fair city, and the lawns and gardens 
 Along the beach of either continent, 
 Sleep in the pale soft twilight. Scarce a breeze 
 Shakes the tall cypress branches, or a ripple 
 Stirs the calm surface of the wide Propontis. 
 O sight of matchless and o'erwhelming beauty ! 
 Thus dark and silent seem to sleep together 
 Europe and Asia ; but upon their verge 
 Are met their fierce and mutual ravagers. 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 On that still shore there gleam for many a league 
 The tents of Turkey ; while within these ramparts 
 The Greek expects each morrow's dawn, and 
 
 trembles. 
 
 Peaceful and soothing is the face of nature ; 
 How much unlike her stern defacer man, 
 Who counts the lagging moments of repose, 
 Then starts afresh to suffer and destroy. 
 
LORD, I BELIEVE. 
 
 As by the shrieking maniac's side 
 
 Stood our salvation's chief, 
 The weeping father sorely tried, 
 Half doubting, half confiding, cried, 
 
 Lord, I believe ; help thou mine unbelief. 
 
 If in this world of many sighs, 
 
 Our spirit sinks with grief, 
 Lean we on him whose mercy dries 
 Life's surging seas and stormy skies. 
 
 Lord, I believe : help thou mine unbelief. 
 
 If round the cup of glowing wine 
 
 We twine the rosy leaf, 
 Think we on him whose power divine 
 Alone bids fostering suns to shine, 
 
 Lord, I believe : help thou mine unbelief. 
 
LORD, I BELIEVE. Si 
 
 In wealth, in want, in weal, in woe, 
 
 Our guardian, our relief, 
 Whom once to love, whom once to know, 
 Is ne'er to feel a fear below ; 
 
 Lord, I believe : help thou mine unbelief. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 BE not thy tears too harshly chid, 
 
 Repine not at the rising sigh, 
 Who, if he might, would always bid 
 
 His breast be still, his cheek be dry ? 
 
 How little of ourselves we know, 
 Before a grief the heart has felt ; 
 
 The lessons that we learn of woe 
 May brace the mind as well as melt. 
 
 The energies too high for mirth, 
 
 The reach of thought, the strength of will, 
 'Mid cloud and tempest have their birth, 
 
 Thro' blight and blast their course fulfil. 
 
STANZAS. 83 
 
 Love's perfect triumph never crown'd 
 The passion by its pangs unwrung, 
 
 Its harvests choose a moisten'd ground, 
 And Sappho wept before she sung. 
 
 Tears at each pure emotion flow, 
 They wait on pity's tender claim, 
 
 On admiration's fervid glow, 
 On Piety's seraphic flame. 
 
 'Tis only when it mourns and fears, 
 
 The loaded spirit feels forgiven ; 
 And through the mist of falling tears 
 
 We catch the clearest glimpse of Heaven. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 WHO has not felt 'mid azure skies 
 At glowing noon or golden even, 
 
 A soft and mellow sadness rise 
 
 And tinge with earth the hues of heaven. 
 
 That shadowing consciousness will steal 
 O'er every scene of fond desire, 
 
 Linger in laughter's gayest peal, 
 And close each cadence of the lyre. 
 
 In the most radiant landscape's round, 
 Lurk the dim haunts of crime and care, 
 
 Man's toil must plough the teeming ground, 
 His sigh must load the perfum'd air. 
 
STANZAS. 85 
 
 Oh for the suns that never part, 
 The fields with hues unfading drest, 
 
 Th' unfalt'ring strain, the unclouded heart, 
 The joy, the triumph, and the rest. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 REJOICE not if the trump of fame 
 Ring to the accents of thy name, 
 If thronging crowds around thee press, 
 If monarchs love and nations bless : 
 Rejoice, that on th' eternal throne 
 The Saviour marks thee for his own. 
 
 Rejoice not if the rosy smile 
 
 Of woman's love thy path beguile ; 
 
 If passion's throb and pleasure's thrill, 
 
 The white-wing'd hour with rapture fill : 
 
 Rejoice if in a world of pain 
 
 The sorrow may efface the stain. 
 
STANZAS. 87 
 
 Rejoice not if the tuneful lay 
 Roll through thy lips its sounding way ; 
 If thy hand wake to life and fire, 
 The breathing and the burning lyre, 
 Rejoice, that thy faint note of praise 
 Shall swell the strain that seraphs raise. 
 
 Rejoice not if this earth display 
 The wealth and wonder of her day, 
 Her gay delights of sound and scene, 
 The vocal grove, the vernal green : 
 Rejoice, that to the meek are given 
 The golden palaces of heaven. 
 
INSCRIPTION IN THE CATHEDRAL AT 
 KILKENNY 1833. 
 
 WITHIN this hallow'd aisle 'mid grief sincere, 
 Friends, brothers, comrades, laid young Howard's 
 
 bier; 
 
 Gentle and brave his country's arms he bore 
 To Ganges' stream and Ava's hostile shore. 
 His God in war and shipwreck was his shield, 
 But stretch'd him lifeless on a peaceful field. 
 Thine are the times and ways, all-ruling Lord, 
 Thy will be done, acknowledg'd and ador'd. 
 
THE LADY AND THE NOVEL. 
 
 WHAT is the book, abstracted damsel, say : 
 The last new novel, or the last new play ? 
 Some tale of love, whose soft and melting tone 
 Reveals its passion, and recalls thine own, 
 Thy thoughts diverging as thou readest on, 
 From the feign'd Belmont to the real Sir John ? 
 Is it departed Scott's illumin'd page, 
 The wizard of our unenchanted age ? 
 Read, gentle lady, for no blush need rise 
 From love so frankly pure and gaily wise ; 
 Free to each clime, and camp, and court, repair 
 The virgin-monarch and her pedant heir 
 Anjou's lone matron in her father's hall 
 The bold Burgundian and the wily Gaul : 
 
90 THE LADY AND THE NOVEL. 
 
 With Amy weep in Cumnor's love-deck'd bower, 
 Glow with Rebecca on the Norman's tower, 
 Or her, the maid, whose Gospel-nurtur'd youth 
 Lov'd the frail sister much but more the truth ; 
 On Lammer-moor bewail the docile bride, 
 Greet Dandie Dinmont by the brown hill-side, 
 Track the Macgregor to his outlaw cave, 
 And quaff with mailed knights Tabaria's * wave. 
 Or does Hibernian Banim weave his spell 
 In moonlight glen and spectre-haunted cell ? 
 Does Cooper lure thee o'er the western deep, 
 Where red men prowl and boundless prairies 
 
 sweep ? 
 
 Feed'st thou the Decalogue-defying hope, 
 That Bulwer's heroes may escape the rope ? 
 Or can the tale of living manners please, 
 Granby's smooth grace, Matilda's sparkling ease ? 
 But haply thou hast deem'd the novelist's pen 
 111 suits the coarser grasp of lordly men ; 
 
 * The Sea of Galilee. 
 
THE LADY AND THE NOVEL. gi 
 
 Art thou in dim Udolpho's grated tower 
 Scar'd at the chiming of the midnight hour ? 
 In wild affright see Evelina run, 
 Or calm Cecilia leave the rite undone ? 
 Does Edgeworth blend in combination nice 
 Her sober humour and serene advice ; 
 Or Morgan's friskier pen awake thy smile 
 With the broad contrasts of their Emerald Isle ? 
 Beats thy quick pulse o'er Inchbald's thrilling leaf, 
 Brunton's high moral, Opie's deep-wrought grief? 
 Has the mild Chaperon claim'd thy yielding heart, 
 Carwell's dark page, Trevelyan's gentler art ? 
 Or is it thou, all perfect Austin ? Here 
 Let one poor wreath adorn thy early bier, 
 That scarce allow'd thy modest worth to claim 
 Its living portion of thy certain fame ; 
 Oh ! Mrs. Bennett ! Mrs. Norris too ! 
 While memory survives, she'll dream of you ; 
 And Mr. Wodehouse, whose abstemious lip 
 Must " thin but not too thin " his gruel sip ; 
 Miss Bates, our idol, though the village bore, 
 
92 THE LADY AND THE NOVEL. 
 
 And Mrs. Elton, ardent to " explore ;" 
 While the clear style flows on without pretence, 
 With unstrained purity and unmatch'd sense. 
 Or if a sister e'er approached the throne 
 She call'd the rich " Inheritance " her own. 
 Yet still, whate'er the tale, fond maid take heed 
 How seldom ill-assorted loves succeed; 
 Mark well what crosses wait the trusting fair ; 
 List not too rashly to the suitor's prayer, 
 Calm the wild tumult, probe the vain desire, 
 And more than all don't set the bed on fire. 
 
( 93 ) 
 
 FOR G. C. 1834. 
 
 WHEN sickly thoughts and jarring nerves invade 
 My morning sunshine and my evening shade, 
 When the dark mood careers without control, 
 And fear and faintness gather on my soul ; 
 O Lord, whose word is power, whose gift is peace, 
 Bid my spent bosom's tides and tempests cease, 
 Bid thy blest Jesus walk a stormier sea 
 Than ever chafd the azure Galilee ; 
 Or if too soon my spirit craves for ease, 
 Hallow the suffering that thy love decrees, 
 Work my soul's faith from out my body's fears, 
 And let me count my triumphs in my tears. 
 
( 94 ) 
 
 LINES ON MISS HELEN CLIFFORD. 
 
 SLEEP, lov'd and lost ! within thy peaceful grave, 
 'Mid scenes as soft as thy remember'd smile, 
 
 While the fond hearts that yearn'd in vain to save, 
 Feel the first pang which thou could'st not 
 beguile. 
 
 Gone is the sunshine of thy laughing eyes, 
 Gone the light form, blithe tread, and blameless 
 glee, 
 
 But when fly back the portals of the skies 
 Each guest that enters must be like to thee. 
 
( 95 ) 
 
 TO THE EDITOR OF HEATH'S BOOK OF 
 BEAUTY 1834. 
 
 O LADY, ask no lay from me ; 
 
 'Tis well, at morn's refulgent hour, 
 To sport beside the myrtle tree ; 
 
 Our noon demands a steadier bower: 
 The rays that dart fierce heat beneath, 
 
 The gales that drop the frosty gem, 
 Shiver or scorch the fluttering wreath, 
 
 But root and rear the hardy stem. 
 
 O Lady, ask no lay from me ; 
 
 'Tis well, on youth's unruffled tide, 
 With streaming pennon, rudder free, 
 
 Through gay and glassy seas to glide ; 
 
96 TO THE EDITOR OF HEATH'S BOOK OF BEAUTY. 
 
 But slack the sail and clear the deck, 
 Ere the dun whirlwind scour the wave, 
 
 Ere helpless drift the shatter' d wreck, 
 And the salt surge be all our grave. 
 
 Then Lady, ask no lay from me ; 
 
 The warblings of an idle lyre 
 Must soon unlearn'd and useless be, 
 
 And, even as thy smiles, expire. 
 Life calls us, ere its course be run, 
 
 To cares more stern, to hopes more sure; 
 Cares, that on earth we may not shun, 
 
 Hopes, that when earth has pass'd, endure. 
 
( 97 ) 
 
 THE BEATEN CANDIDATE. 
 
 FROM the green brow of Heath my eyes survey 
 Town, vale, and hill, beneath the parting ray ; 
 Near me, the fresh crisp furze, the clust'ring beech, 
 Beyond, the airy spire * and river's reach. 
 Scorn'd by the lordly owners of the soil, 
 Rejected by the hardier sons of toil, 
 With all Thy works around me, and Thy Word, 
 What further can Thy creature want, O Lord ! 
 
 Heath Common, July 9th, 1841. 
 
 * Then ringing a peal for the return of Wortley and Denison. 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 TO SOME AMATEUR THEATRICALS TOWARDS THE 
 RELIEF OF THE IRISH FAMINE. 
 
 IF the pale Muse, by whose heart-stirring power 
 Terror and pity rule their varied hour, 
 Could blend together, on one swelling stage, 
 The gather'd woes of each dramatic age ; 
 Each awful thrill that Siddons made us feel, 
 Each tear that flow'd unbid o'er soft O'Neill, 
 How slight the woes that wait on Fiction's 
 
 call! 
 Our dread realities efface them all. 
 
 Yes, leave with me the Drama's festive pile, 
 Life's sternest contrasts must be tried awhile, 
 
( 99 ) 
 
 Come all, in gay or captious mood who sit 
 
 In those bright boxes, in that social pit, 
 
 Come, where the surges break, with sullen roar, 
 
 On Kerry's cliff or Connemara's shore ; 
 
 Come, wherewith ceaseless plaint the wild sea-gull 
 
 Floats round deep-cavern'd Skye or storm-beat 
 
 Mull; 
 
 Pass o'er bleak moor and unfrequented hill, 
 Pause on yon mould'ring cabin's noiseless sill; 
 See, on the rotting straw the prostrate man, 
 Prop of his home or champion of his clan ; 
 The fever dims his eye and draws his cheek,. 
 His children moan,, they have not strength to 
 
 shriek ; 
 
 While the unmurm'ring wife, who with him bore 
 The long privations of their failing store, 
 With her uncoffin'd infant at her side, 
 Has wasted near him, blest him, kiss'd and died. 
 
 Seek one roof more I tell the naked truth 
 The wife has lost the husband of her youth ; 
 
 H 2 
 
Three blooming boys beside their father sleep, 
 Where the scant sods scarce hide each mou Wring 
 
 heap; 
 
 She sees her last remaining flow'ret fade, 
 Her wasted hands no more can grasp the spade, 
 But she has totter'd lonely forth, to crave 
 Alms not for bread but for her offspring's grave. 
 
 We do not bid you wear a brow of gloom, 
 Or don the sable trappings of the tomb ; 
 In meek contrition to the Power Divine, 
 Britain of late has knelt at every shrine ; 
 From every rank the generous aid has flown, 
 And caught its earliest impulse from the throne. 
 Then let the spirit's pulses still beat free 
 For letter'd musing or for blameless glee ; 
 But while ye taste each bounteous gift of heaven, 
 Give and give much and much to you be given. 
 
AMERICA. 
 
 INDIAN NAMES. 
 
 THINE were my thoughts by broad Ontario's side, 
 
 And the soft ripple of Cayuga's tide ; 
 
 Thy voice came whisper'd in the solemn breeze 
 
 That rustled through Oneida's waste of trees; 
 
 Thy image rose on Erie's peopled sh ore, 
 
 And 'mid Niagara's eternal roar. 
 
 November, 1841. 
 
ON NIAGARA. 
 
 THERE'S nothing great or bright, thou glorious 
 
 fall! 
 
 Thou mayst not to the fancy's sense recall : 
 The thunder-riven cloud, the lightning's leap, 
 The stirring of the chambers of the deep, 
 Earth's emerald green and many-tinted dyes, 
 The fleecy whiteness of the upper skies, 
 The tread of armies thickening as they come, 
 The boom of cannon and the beat of drum, 
 The brow of beauty and the form of grace, 
 The passion and the prowess of our race, 
 The song of Homer in its loftiest hour, 
 The unresisted sweep of Roman power, 
 
ON NIAGARA. 103 
 
 Britannia's trident on the azure sea, 
 
 America's young shout of liberty ! 
 
 Oh ! may the wars that madden in thy deeps 
 
 There spread their rage, nor climb their circling 
 
 steeps, 
 
 And till the conflict of thy surges cease, 
 The nations on thy banks repose in peace. 
 
104 
 
 WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS IN VIRGINIA. 
 
 HAIL Dome ! whose unpresuming circle guards 
 Virginia's flowing fountain : still may health 
 Hover above thy crystal urn, and bring 
 To cheek unus'd their bloom ! may beauty still 
 Sit on thy billowy swell of wooded hills, 
 And deep ravines of verdure ; may the axe 
 Improvement's necessary pioneer, 
 'Mid forest solitudes, still gently pierce, 
 Not bare their leafy bowers. This votive lay, 
 Like wreath of old on thy white columns hung, 
 Albeit from scentless flowers from foreign soil, 
 Scorn not, and bid the pilgrim pass in peace. 
 
 1842. 
 
105 
 
 CUBA. 
 
 YE tropic forests of unfading green, 
 
 Where the palm tapers and the orange glows, 
 
 Where the light bamboo waves her feathery screen, 
 And her tall shade the matchless ceyba throws. 
 
 Ye cloudless ethers of unchanging blue, 
 
 Save as its rich varieties give way 
 To the clear sapphire of your midnight hue, 
 
 The burnish'd azure of your perfect day. 
 
 Yet tell me not my native skies are bleak, 
 That flush'd with liquid wealth, no cane-fields 
 wave; 
 
 For virtue pines, and manhood dares not speak, 
 And nature's glories brighten round the slave. 
 
 1842. 
 
( io6 ) 
 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 THE mists that curling from the grey hill-side 
 Still fringe the dusky bosom of the Clyde, 
 On the broad lake the day's full glories spread 
 And bathe with summer light Ben Lomond's head. 
 On high Benmore th' unclouded lustres play, 
 And far Schehallion owns the vivid ray ; 
 Till eve, with softer shade and rosier beam, 
 Dips the wild cliffs that guard Glenorchy's stream; 
 The deep'ning shades sublimer horrors throw 
 Round each dread precipice of sad Glencoe; 
 The starlight trembles on soft Leven's tide, 
 The moon takes up the tale and gilds Ben Nevis' 
 side. 
 
 1851. 
 
FROM H. M. S. WASP, OFF THE COAST 
 OF SYRIA. 
 
 BLOW, gentle breeze ! though on thy wintry wing 
 I ask no flowery tributes of the spring, 
 No spicy buds in Antioch's vale that bloom, 
 No silken stores from rich Aleppo's loom, 
 Nor all the wealth that down Orontes' tide,* 
 With Syrian softness hardier climes supplied. 
 Blow, gentle breeze ! on this fair Eastern eve 
 With breath as holy as the land you leave ; 
 From Lebanon's peaks, from blue Genesareth's 
 
 shore, 
 On the worn heart divine refreshment pour ; 
 
 * Syrus in Tiberim defluxit Orontes. 
 
108 FROM H. M. S. WASP. 
 
 From Nazareth's slope, from high Capernaum's 
 
 crest, 
 
 Shed heavenly healing on the sinful breast ; 
 And in the peace and brightness mirror'd here 
 Waft the blest presage of a purer sphere. 
 
 Dec. 17, 1853. 
 
( 109 ) 
 
 TO CAPTAIN MOORE, 
 
 ON THE HIGHFLYER BEING ORDERED TO SEA. 
 
 YES, away to the struggle, away to the shock, 
 
 For even a spirit so gentle and bright, 
 Must be stern as the storm and unmov'd as the 
 
 rock, 
 
 When the flag of thy country gives the signal of 
 fight. 
 
 May thy God be thy shield in the battle's hot hour, 
 When the manhood of England is for combat 
 array 'd, 
 
 If the blood of her heroes be her pathway to power, 
 It flows in thy veins, but the debt has been paid. 
 
 April, 1854. 
 
ON A TREE 
 
 PLANTED BY THE COUNTESS OF ST. GERMAN'S, AT 
 THE VICE-REGAL LODGE, DUBLIN. 
 
 POOR tree, a gentle mistress placed thee here 
 To be the glory of the glade around, 
 
 Thy life has but surviv'd one fleeting year, 
 And she too sleeps beneath another mound. 
 
 But mark what different terms your fates allow, 
 Though like the period of your swift decay, 
 
 Thine are the wither'd branch and sapless bough, 
 Hers the green memory and immortal day. 
 
( III ) 
 
 ON A HAWTHORN TREE IN THE 
 V. R. GARDENS. 1863. 
 
 OH ! come to see me, when the soft warm May 
 Bids all my boughs their gay embroidery wear, 
 
 In my bright season's transitory day, 
 While my sweet perfume loads the enamour'd 
 air. 
 
 Oh ! come to see me, when the sky is blue, 
 And backs my spangles with an azure ground, 
 
 While the thick ivy bosses clust'ring through, 
 See their dark tufts with silvery circlets crown'd. 
 
 Then be the Spring in all its pomp array'd, 
 The lilac's blossom, the laburnum's blaze, 
 
 Nature hath rear'd beyond this hawthorn glade 
 No fairer altar to her Maker's praise. 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 MARK well, how through the rolling centuries 
 
 Some names have left a glitt'ring track of light, 
 
 And made their age an epoch. In old Rome 
 
 Augustus barr'd the grisly gates of war, 
 
 And bade the nations from the known world's end 
 
 Meet in the marble palaces of Art 
 
 He first uprear'd. On this our Island shore, 
 
 Arthur, the type of Christian chivalry, 
 
 Shone a bright beacon to a wayward age, 
 
 In gentle rectitude, calm, prudent, true, 
 
 In mien, in mind, of such ethereal mould, 
 
 That baser natures scarce could scan. That name 
 
 Has not been lost to later fame. Next rose 
 
 Alfred, whose patient spirit had drunk deep ; 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 113 
 
 The Courts of Justice and eternal Law, 
 Gave Learning honour, and bade Science bloom 
 In unaccustom'd bowers. Their rays converge, 
 Peace-maker, peerless knight, wise counsellor, 
 In thee, our lov'd, lost Albert. Thy renown t 
 Is hymn'd in loftier songs ; thy name embalm'd 
 In holier grief ; let this stray cypress wreath, 
 E'en 'mid the clusters of the bridal crown, 
 Hang on thy silent bier. 
 
 1863. 
 
THE 
 
 SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE IN VERSE. 
 
 I 2 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 1858. 
 
 IN a very able and elaborate work lately published 
 by Mr. Buckle, the First Volume of the * History 
 of Civilization in England/ it is much insisted 
 upon that the greatness and happiness of na- 
 tions increase in almost parallel proportions with 
 their sceptical tendencies. I do not wish to 
 fix upon the term of scepticism a more offensive 
 import than the author himself assigns to it ; 
 and if I can judge of myself aright, there can be 
 nothing which I should more wish to avoid than 
 any approach to dogmatism in the discussion of 
 religious subjects, and still more especially of 
 
Il8 PREFACE. 
 
 Scriptural Prophecy. I must further admit my- 
 self not to be aware how far critical research and 
 investigation have been brought to bear upon 
 the composition of the Book of the Prophet 
 Daniel. It has long, however, appeared to me 
 that if the eighth Chapter of this marvellous 
 Book, of which, principally with the view of 
 calling increased attention to it at the present 
 period, I have attempted the following Para- 
 phrase in verse, does really stand, as it is 
 assumed to do in our Bibles, without addition, 
 interpolation, or corruption, these three points 
 are established : 
 
 1. The inspiration of the sacred text. 
 
 2. The immediate superintendence of Divine 
 Providence in the order of events, and the govern- 
 ment of the world. 
 
 3. The high probability, when the Chapter is 
 viewed in connection with the associated Pro- 
 
PREFACE. IIQ 
 
 phecies and Chronologies of the Books of Daniel 
 and of the Revelation, that we are even now 
 upon the threshold of great events, and of the 
 close of our present economy. 
 
DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. 
 
 1 IN the third year of the reign of King Bel- 
 shazzar a vision appeared unto me, even unto me 
 Daniel, after that which appeared unto me at the 
 first. 
 
 2 And I saw in a vision ; and it carne to pass, 
 when I saw, that I was at Shushan in the palace, 
 which is in the province of Elam ; and I saw in a 
 vision, and I was by the river of Ulai. 
 
 3 Then I lifted up mine eyes, and saw, and, 
 behold, there stood before the river a ram which 
 had two horns : and the two horns were high ; but 
 one was higher than the other, and the higher came 
 up last. 
 
 4 I saw the ram pushing westward, and north- 
 ward, and southward ; so that no beasts might 
 
122 DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. 
 
 stand before him, neither was there any that could 
 deliver out of his hand ; but he did according to 
 his will, and became great. 
 
 5 And as I was considering, behold, an he-goat 
 came from the west on the face of the whole earth, 
 and touched not the ground ; and the goat had a 
 notable horn between his eyes. 
 
 6 And he came to the ram that had two horns, 
 which I had seen standing before the river, and 
 ran unto him in the fury of his power. , 
 
 7 And I saw him come close unto the ram, and 
 he was moved with choler against him, and smote 
 the ram, and brake his two horns : and there was 
 no power in the ram to stand before him, but he 
 cast him down to the ground, and stamped upon 
 him : and there was none that could deliver the 
 ram out of his hand. 
 
 8 Therefore the he-goat waxed very great : and 
 when he was strong, the great horn was broken ; 
 and for it came up four notable ones toward the 
 four winds of heaven. 
 
DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. . 123 
 
 9 And out of one of them came forth a little 
 horn, which waxed exceedingly great, toward the 
 south, and toward the east, and toward the pleasant 
 land. 
 
 10 And it waxed great, even to the host of 
 heaven ; and it cast down some of the host and of 
 the stars to the ground, and stamped upon them. 
 
 11 Yea, he magnified himself even to the prince 
 of the host, and by him the daily sacrifice was 
 taken away, and the place of his sanctuary was 
 cast down. 
 
 12 And an host was given him against the daily 
 sacrifice by reason of transgression, and it cast 
 down the truth to the ground ; and it practised, 
 and prospered. 
 
 1 3, IT Then I heard one saint speaking, and 
 another saint said unto that certain saint which 
 spake, How long shall be the vision concerning the 
 daily sacrifice, and the transgression of desolation, 
 to give both the sanctuary and the host to be 
 trodden under foot ? 
 
124 DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. 
 
 14 And he said unto me, Unto two thousand 
 and three hundred days ; then shall the sanctuary 
 be cleansed. 
 
 15 And it came to pass when I, even I Daniel, 
 had seen the vision, and sought for the meaning, 
 then, behold, there stood before me as the appear- 
 ance of a man. 
 
 16 And I heard a man's voice between the banks 
 of Ulai, which called, and said, Gabriel, make this 
 man to understand the vision. 
 
 17 So he came near where I stood ; and 
 when he came, I was afraid, and fell upon 
 my face : but he said unto me, Understand, O 
 son of man : for at the time of the end shall be 
 the vision. 
 
 18 Now as he was speaking with me, I was in a 
 deep sleep on my face toward the ground : but he 
 touched me, and set me upright. 
 
 19 And he said, Behold, I will make thee know 
 what shall be in the last end of the indignation : 
 for at the time appointed the end shall be. 
 
DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. 125 
 
 20 The ram which thou sawest having two horns 
 are the kings of Media and Persia. 
 
 21 And the rough goat is the king of Grecia : 
 and the great horn that is between his eyes is the 
 first king. 
 
 22 Now that being broken, whereas four stood 
 up for it, four kingdoms shall stand up out of the 
 nation, but not in his power. 
 
 23 And in the latter time of their kingdom, 
 when the transgressors are come to the full, a king 
 of fierce countenance, and understanding dark 
 sentences, shall stand up. 
 
 24 And his power shall be mighty, but not by 
 his own power : and he shall destroy wonderfully, 
 and shall prosper, and practise, and shall destroy 
 the mighty and the holy people. 
 
 25 And through his policy also he shall cause 
 craft to prosper in his hand ; and he shall magnify 
 himself in his heart, and by peace shall destroy 
 many : he shall also stand up against the Prince 
 of princes ; but he shall be broken without hand. 
 
126 DANIEL, CHAP. VIII. 
 
 26 And the vision of the evening and the morn- 
 ing which was told is true : wherefore shut thou 
 up the vision ; for it shall be for many days. 
 
 27 And I Daniel fainted, and was sick certain 
 days; afterward I rose up, and did the king's 
 business ; and I was astonished at the vision, but 
 none understood it. 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 IN that still hour, 1 when the declining sun 
 Gilded the towers of mighty Babylon, 
 While from Belshazzar's hall upon the breeze 
 Came fitful strains of festal harmonies, 
 Apart to Israel's God I watch'd, and wept, 2 
 Till peace came o'er my spirit, and I slept. 
 
 a In the third year of the reign of King Belshazzar a 'vision 
 appeared unto me. Daniel, ch. viii. ver. i. 
 
 1 B.C. 553. 
 
 2 And I set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and 
 supplications, with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes. Daniel, 
 ch. ix. ver. 3. 
 
128 THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 b Rapt in the vision of my mystic dream, 
 I stood by clear c Ulai's 3 royal stream, 
 Where Susa's glitt'ring palaces 4 record 
 Th' unnumber'd trophies of the Persian sword. d 
 Round Cyrus, call'd of Judah's God, 5 behold 
 e The silken Lydian pour his hoarded gold ! 6 
 f Thron'd 'mid the circuit of her hundred gates, 
 
 b And 1 saw in a 'vision ; and it came to pass, when I saw, 
 that I was at Shushan in the palace. Ver. 2. 
 c / was by the river of Ulai. Ver. 2. 
 
 3 The Eulseus. Susa was built between the rivers Eulasus and 
 Choaspes, both famous for their delicious water. Parthorum reges 
 ex Choaspe et Eulaeo tantum bibunt. PLINY, H.N. 31. 21. 
 
 The drink of none but kings. MILTON, Par. Reg. III. 289. 
 
 4 Thus the great palace at Persepolis contained inscriptions of 
 Darius, Xerxes, and later kings. Note to Rawlinson's Herodotus. 
 
 d There stood before the river a ram which had two horns. 
 Ver. 3. 
 
 The ram which thou sawest having two horns are the Kings 
 of Media and Persia. Ver. 20. 
 
 5 That saith of Cyrus, He is my shepherd. Isaiah xliv. 28. 
 
 e I saw the ram pushing northward . . . he did according 
 to his will, and became great. Ver. 4. 
 
 6 Croesus was taken prisoner by Cyrus, B.C. 549. 
 Southward. 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. I2Q 
 
 Imperial Babylon her victor waits : 7 
 8 Flush'd with mad pride, behold Cambyses 8 run 
 
 To the far chambers of the western sun ! 
 
 Yet from that West h in turn more fierce alarms 
 
 Rouse the pale East to unexpected 9 arms ; 
 
 He comes, by gifted eye descried afar, 
 
 Monarch of men, and Thunderbolt 10 of war ! 
 1 Through the cleft air with lightning leap he 
 springs 
 
 O'er subject Provinces, and suppliant Kings. 
 
 7 Babylon was taken by Cyrus, B.C. 539. Herodotus mentions 
 the hundred gates. 
 
 s Westward. 
 
 8 Cambyses invaded Egypt, B.C. 525. 
 
 h An he goat came from the west, and the goat had a 
 notable horn between his eyes. Ver. 5. 
 
 The rough goat is the king of Grecia : and the great horn 
 that Is between his eyes is thefrst king. Ver. 21. 
 
 By a fatal imprudence the Persians permitted Alexander to 
 carry over without opposition his grand army into Asia in the 
 spring of 334 B.C. GROTE, vol. 12, p. 104. 
 
 w Fulmen belli. VIRG. JEn. 6. 841. 
 
 i The goat came on the face of the whole earth, and touched 
 not the ground. Ver. 5. 
 
 K 
 
I3O THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 Speak, chaf'd Granicus ! n red Arbela, say ! u 
 What gory horrors crown 'd each dreadful 
 
 day. 
 
 k See Media's elder diadem unbound ! 
 See Persia's loftier sceptre kiss the ground ! 
 Sea-girt in vain, mourn, desolated Tyre ! 13 
 Wrap thy proud domes, Persepolis, 14 in fire ! 
 Him, climes and tribes he knew not, learn to 
 
 know, 
 
 The Parthian arrow, 15 and the Bactrian bow ; 
 Indus 16 his wat'ry barrier rolls aside, 
 
 11 Battle of the Granicus, B.C. 334. 
 
 !2 Battle of Arbela, B.C. 331. 
 
 k The ram had two horns : and the two horns were high ; 
 but one was higher than the other, and the higher came up 
 last. Ver. 3. 
 
 And the goat came to the ram that had two horns, and ran 
 unto him in the fury of his power. Ver. 6. 
 
 The goat smote the ram, and brake his two horns, cast him 
 down to the ground, and stamped upon him. Ver. 7. 
 
 13 Tyre taken, B,C. 332. 
 
 14 Persepolis burned, B.C. 330. 
 
 15 Parthia subdued, B.C. 330 ; Bactria, B.C. 319, 
 
 16 Indus crossed Hydaspes forced, B.C. 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 131 
 
 Hydaspes wafts him on his fabled 17 tide ; 
 J The Hero-King adoring nations own, 
 And Asia kneels at Alexander's throne. 
 
 With glories radiant as the noonday sun, 
 He sits aloft in ancient Babylon ; 
 In Babylon the royal feast is spread, 
 In Babylon the Hero-King lies dead. 18 
 
 With feebler sway, from these great obsequies, 
 m Four scepter'd dynasties together rise : 19 
 This, o'er their native Macedon bears sway, 
 And Greece's 20 silver isles and shores obey ; 
 
 17 Fabulosus Hydaspes. HOR. i. 22. 
 
 1 The hs goat waxed 'very great ; and when he was strong, 
 the great horn (was broken. Ver. 8. 
 
 18 Alexander died at Babylon, B.C. 323, immediately after the 
 feast in honour of the obsequies of Hephsestion. 
 
 m For it came up four notable ones toward the four winds of 
 heaven. Ver. 8. 
 
 Four kingdoms shall stand up out of the nation, but not in his 
 power. Ver. 22. 
 
 19 The four kingdoms may be assumed to be that of Cassander, 
 in Macedon and Greece; of Lysimachus, in Thrace and Bithynia ; 
 of Seleucus, in Syria ; and of Ptolemy, in Egypt. 
 
 Nitentes Cyclades. HOR. i. 14. 
 
 E 2 
 
132 THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 This rules o'er many a tempest-batter'd race, 
 From rich 21 Bithynia to the steppes of Thrace ; 
 This, as o'er Carmel breathes the fragrant gale, 
 Gathers the spices of each Syrian vale ; 
 This, sees the Nile his bounteous vest 22 expand, 
 And clothe with plenty Afric's glowing sand. 
 'Mid the dim twilight of declining power. 
 They fill th' allotted space, and bide th' appointed 
 hour. 23 
 
 21 The plain of Broussa retains to this day its ancient fertility. 
 
 22 Niium tota veste vocantem. VIRG. JE,n. viii. 711. 
 
 23 This may be said to conclude the first portion or half of the 
 Prophecy ; and thus far, the authenticity of the text being taken 
 for granted, there is no room for ambiguity, doubt, or denial ; the 
 interpreting Angel says directly, " This is the King of Persia : this 
 is the king of Greece;" and their real histories are accurately por- 
 trayed. For the solution of the remaining portion we are left to 
 our own conjectures, and there has accordingly been a great variety 
 of interpretation. By most of the older commentators, " The little 
 horn," or "The king of fierce countenance, and understanding dark 
 sentences," was supposed to be Antiochus Epiphanes. By Bishop 
 Newton, and Sir Isaac Newton the one, an high authority upon 
 Prophecy, the other, the highest of all human authorities in nearly 
 every respect the Roman Empire was understood to be signified. 
 Mr. Faber, in his "Sacred Calendar of Prophecy," adopts the 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 133 
 
 The lab'ring centuries in long career 
 Weave their dark web of wonder and of fear ; 
 The days of Rome's long glories wax and wane, 
 The vex'd earth moans beneath her guilty reign : n 
 E'en at that hour, in Mecca's rocky cell, 24 
 The Warrior-Prophet frames his wizard spell; 
 Cons the dark sentence, and the mystic lore, 25 
 Then bids the nations tremble, and adore. 
 O'er all the slumb'ring myriads burst afar 
 The flashes of the Moslem scymetar ; 
 
 religion of Mahomet and the Saracen dominion. Mr. Elliot, in 
 his "Horse Apocalypticse," prefers the Empire of the Ottoman 
 Turks. It will be seen that I have selected Mr. Faber's interpre- 
 tation, as it appears to me to proceed upon the most plausible 
 system of dates, and to have generally the greatest marks of import- 
 ance and propriety. I have naturally not attempted to put the 
 figures of dates into rhyme. 
 
 n Jn the latter time of their kingdom, when the transgressors 
 are come to the full. Ver. 23. 
 
 24 The cave of Hera, three miles from Mecca. GIBBON, c. L. 
 
 A king offeree countenance, and understanding dark sen- 
 tences, shall stand up. Ver. 23. 
 
 25 The copy of the Koran was said to have been brought down 
 to Mahomet by the Angel Gabriel. GIBBON. 
 
134 THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 The turban'd hordes of Araby advance, 
 
 Urge the fleet barb, and hurl th' unerring 
 
 lance. 
 
 p 'Mid Egypt's temples, 26 and o'er Barca's sands, 27 
 Copt, Moor, and Goth, uplift submissive hands : 
 28 On Xeres' bank, and Andalusia's plain, 
 
 Cowers all the recreant chivalry of Spain : 
 q Wealth sits enthron'd 'mid Cordova's 29 high 
 
 towers, 
 
 And Science dwells in soft Granada's bowers. 
 r Nor less, where Eastern ethers brightly smile, 
 
 P The little horn waxed exceeding great, toward the south. 
 Ver. 9. 
 
 He shall destroy wonderfully. Ver. 24. 
 
 26 Amram occupied Egypt the Coptic Christians submitted, 
 A.D. 638. 
 
 27 Abdallah subdued the sea-coast of Barbary, A.D. 647. 
 
 28 Tarik landed in Spain, A.D. 710. The Gothic Monarchy was 
 overthrown at the battle of Xeres, A.D. 711. 
 
 i He shall prosper and practise. Ver. 24. 
 
 29 Cordova contained 600 mosques, 900 baths, 200,000 houses. 
 GIBBON. 
 
 r And toward the east. Ver. 9. 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 135 
 
 30 To the chill Oxus from the sultry Nile, 
 The dusky tribes receive the Prophet's law, 
 And to his Caliphs bend with prostrate awe. 
 Cashmere's green vales obey the stern command, 
 
 81 Bassora's wharves, and marts of Samarcand, 82 
 And names to Greek and Roman arms unknown 
 Swell the proud pomp of Delhi's jewell'd throne. 33 
 8 Vain are the legions of Byzantium's Lord 34 
 'Gainst the dread sweep of Caled's M gleaming 
 
 sword : 
 Vain thy bright stores of luxury and toil, 
 
 30 The successful leader (Omar) neither halted nor reposed till his 
 foaming cavalry had tasted the waters of the Oxus. GIBBON, c. LI. 
 
 31 Bassora, on the junction of the Tigris and Euphrates, was 
 founded about A.D. 636. 
 
 32 Paper is said to have been first manufactured in Samarcand. 
 
 33 In the year 1858, the reader will not need to be reminded of 
 the Mogul dynasty of Delhi. 
 
 s And towards the pleasant land. Ver. 9. (Always under- 
 stood to be Palestine.) 
 
 He shall destroy the mighty and the holy people. Ver. 24. 
 
 34 The armies of the Emperor Heraclius were defeated by Caled 
 at Aiznadin, A.D. 633, and Yermuk, A.D. 636. 
 
 as Caled was called the Sword of God. 
 
136 THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 
 
 36 Damascus, loveliest scene on mortal soil ! 37 
 Where perfum'd gales from Lebanon descend, 
 
 88 And Pharpar's streams with clear Abana blend. 
 
 89 Thou, too, fair Zion's consecrated hill, 
 Kedron's scant brook, and lone Siloam's rill, 
 Haunts of my Saviour, footsteps of my God, 
 Down to the dust by new Blasphemers trod ! * 
 Where Bethlehem nurs'd Creation's lowly Lord, 
 Hark ! the fierce shout, " The Koran or the 
 
 Sword!" 40 
 In warlike pomp the haughty Emirs ride 
 
 36 Damascus was taken, A.D. 634. 
 
 37 Tys 'Edas airdo"r)s 6<f>6a\i*6s. Epistles attributed to Julian. 
 
 38 Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than 
 all the rivers of Israel ? 2 Kings v. 1 2. 
 
 39 Jerusalem capitulated, A.D. 637. 
 
 t He magnified himself even to the prince of the host . . . 
 and the place of his sanctuary was cast down. Ver. 1 1. 
 
 He shall stand up against the Prince of princes. Ver. 25. 
 
 40 I confess that I perceived with surprise Mr. Buckle's very 
 favourable estimate of the Mahomedan religion, especially as pro- 
 ceeding from one who generally professes himself so much averse to 
 mere military prowess. 
 
THE SECOND VISION OF DANIEL. 137 
 
 By the still hamlets on Gennesareth's tide, 
 And crafty u seers proclaim a heav'n of guilt, 
 Where the pure blood of Calvary was spilt. 
 Yet, ere the vision fades before my eyes, 
 See the regenerating dawn arise ! 
 Before the radiance of the Gospel beam,* 
 Down, baffled Crescent ! shrink, Euphrates' 
 
 stream ! * 
 
 Return, ye ransom'd, to your promis'd home ! 
 Feet, that are beauteous on the mountain, come ! 
 Foul Bigotry, avaunt ! fierce Discord, cease ! 
 Earth, sea, and sky, be glad, before the Prince of 
 
 Peace ! 
 
 u through his policy he shall cause craft to prosper. Ver. 15. 
 
 x He shall be broken without hand. Ver. 25. 
 
 41 And the sixth angel poured out his vial upon the great river 
 Euphrates; and the water thereof was dried up, that the way of 
 the kings of the east might be prepared. Re*v. xvi. 12. 
 
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