iJ-t-r "-z^ II. Alas for them, the would-be wise, Who all they cannot feel despise, To whom a universe is nought Beyond their narrow range of thought. The mole constructs his earthen cell, And deems it a vast citadel, And little thinks the eagle's eye Is piercing to the mid-day sky. The silver moon is bright above, The starlit heaven all beams with love, And countless worlds are rolling there ; Yet what doth plodding peasant care ? Home wendeth he with blithesome strains, Nor starlight him nor moon detains ; The moonbeam lights him to his cot, Yet otherwise he feels it not. The boatman sees the tide go past, Each following wave is like the last : What wonder is there in that sea, With all its dull monotony ? None he perceives ; but I can feel Its music o'er me gently steal ; And every passing wave to me Is full of new variety. THE POST'S DEB AM. III. The turtle labours for her brood, She watches long, she gathers food, She warms them with her downy breast, She spreads her wing to guard their rest ; And still she hovers round, as fear None there could be, while she was near : love maternal ! how I bless Thy self-devoting tenderness ! Yet are there who unmoved and cold That busy toil of love behold ; Versed in the schoolman's wordy lore, They call it instinct, think no more : As if 'twere not by Nature's plan A lesson meant for selfish man ! Dearer the Poet's dream to me Than all their vain philosophy. IV. T love the daisy of the green, 1 love the snowdrop's pensive mien, The honeysuckle's graceful twine, The primrose coy, the eglantine. Thou woodland sister of the rose ! The vale no sweeter blossom shows : Thine opening bud is like the smile Of infant joy, that knows no guile : THE POET'S DREAM. Thou lightest all the bramble rude, Thou bloomest in the solitude, Teaching that e'en the thorny shade Was for delight and beauty made. Yea, I should deem mine own heart dull, Did I not think thee wonderful : Yet thousands pass thee by, and see Nought but a poor wild flower in thee. v. The meanest of created things Kind Nature to perfection brings ; And nothing is so poor or small, But yet is great, as part of all. The leafage dropping to the ground Hath meaning in the faintest sound ; And thoughts with busy purpose rife Are call'd by shadows into life. The worldling with incessant gaze Himself in ample pride surveys : All else, as thro' a glass obscure, Before him flits in miniature. Intent upon his narrow self, And crawling after earthly pelf, He grasps the dust, calls that his own, Life, wealth, enjoyment, that alone. » THE POET S DREAM. Cling, reptile, cling to thy vile dnst ; Mingle with it full soon thou must. Dearer the Poet's dream to me Than thy misnamed reality. VI. For what is real ? Knowest thou, Vain-glorious mortal? Tell me how. The laws of Nature he must learn, Who false and real would discern. Behold, with generous hand profuse She scatters plenty for thy use, She biddeth thee the essence cull Of all the sweet and beautiful. The flower, the fruit, are all for thee, If thou wert like the honey-bee, Tasteful and wise : but oh, beware ! The fruit has gall, the flower a snare. Is thine a prudence, thine a power To treasure stores for winter's hour ? Or wastest thou the season's prime, Borne thoughtless down the stream of time : Thy joys, thy pleasures, what arc thej Wiih golden promise brighl to-day: But ere the morrow's dawn hath shone, Like wither'd blossouis, they are gone. THE POET S DREAM. VII. A carved monumental stone To passing strangers maketh known, That in yon grave doth one abide, Who pious lived, lamented died. Tis false ! his truth, his faith he sold, His peace, his slumber, all for gold ; He walk'd with purpose dark and blind ; He shut his heart 'gainst all mankind : He sought to frame 'gainst earthly want A buckler strong as adamant ; In vain : by avarice enslaved, For more and more he ever craved : He would not drink from Nature's well, Yet burn'd with thirst unquenchable ; His heart was arid as the sand That gleams on Libya's desert-strand : He died, and none lamented him, While many a scowl of pleasure grim Told that the very slaves he fed Rejoiced to see their tyrant dead. Did he then aught of real gain With all his care, his toil, his pain ? No : in a dream his life he spent, To gain that worthless monument. » THE I'OETS DREAM. VIII. Nor wiser, who devote to sense The life-sustaining elements, The precious seed of heavenly flami That animates tins mortal frame. Press from the grape the blushing wine ! 'lis full of sunny juice divine ! See, see ; those bubbling streams invite; To bathe the soul in soft delight ! Hold ! there is poison in the cup ! The madman breathless drinks it up ; W ith riot laughter swells his eye, It rolls, it swims in ecstasy : Aerial shapes before him stand, And seem to move at his command : Yes ; imps of hell ! they dance for glee, To see that frantic revelry ! Soon prostrate on the ground will lie, Who now is soaring to the sky : From earth, not heaven, those rapturi a oom< The drunkard's wild delirium. IX. And thou, wlii feel'st the subtle charm, The tender thrill, the soft alarm, Ami all that Eanoj e'er combined To make the love uf womankind : 8 THE POET'S DREAM. Oh, whence those trembling fond desires ? It is a Goddess who inspires ! Mark ye the splendour of that face, Her every motion full of grace ! And in her form such majesty, And in her look such witchery ! It were a taste for Gods to sip The bloom from off that rosy lip ! Thou hangest on her siren tongue ; ^ Its note is soft as fairy-song, More sweet than murmur in the glade By gently falling waters made. A few brief years, and thou no more Shalt find a Goddess to adore ; Parch'd will that lip and pale have grown, Tuneless and harsh that silver tone : The winning smile, the snowy brow, The blushes that enchant thee now, All with thy love will disappear, Or linger in remembrance drear. Yet why the name of Love profane ? Love tempts not mortals to their bane : Tis not celestial Love supplies Thy wanton thoughts and burning sighs ; » ( THE I'OET 6 DREAM. self-deceived ! Tis carnal heat That makes thy pulse so wildly beat : Base earthly passions in thee stir : Awake, thou idol-worshipper ! x. And what is fame ? A thing of air, Sought far and wide, and found nowhere : More flitting than a shade. Who knows From whence it came, or whither goes ? The Statesman plans, he giveth laws, While listening senates peal applause; The people bless their happy lot, And hail him for a patriot ; Their gratulations echoing pour, Like ocean waves from shore to shore; Then silence ; and they die away, Like tones of some forgotten lay. Soon other sounds are on the gale ; They tell a new, a different talc ; The people mourn ; and he the cause ; They curse the man, revile his laws : The storm frowns, gathera, bursts at length : Yet courage ! he bath Inward Btrength To bear him up ! Ah, no ! he shrinks Before the cruel Wom ; he sinks, c 10 THE POET'S DREAM. Hopeless, heartsmitten ; as an oak, When riven by the lightning-stroke, Sapless and bare and honour-shorn, Stands on the blasted heath forlorn. XI. The victor's praise loud clarions tell, While nations ring the funeral knell. O madness ! One there lived, whose breath Was victory, whose frown was death : 1 He seem'd on earth a demi-god ; On throne and altar fierce he trod ; He moved and found no resting-place ; Shook the broad hills his thunder-pace : His war-denouncing trumpet blew, And thousand thousands round him flew, For him to fight, for him to bleed, His name their watchword and their creed : He march'd to Winter's icy field And sternly bade the Monarch yield ; But Winter call'd her vassal train, Famine and frost and hurricane : She came, and blew so dread a blast, Shriek'd vale and mountain as she pass'd ; With wrath more deadly than the sword Upon the foe her tempests pour'd : THE POET'S DREAM. 1 I There under waves of sweeping snow The mighty men of war lay low, The blood was frozen in their reins, Their bones were scatter'd on the plains Twas not for this the gallant bam! March'd proudly from their fatherland : Of fields, of glory dreamt the brave, Of conquest or a soldier's grave. And dreamt not he, that soul of pride, Who scorn'd the earth and heaven defied ? I wis not what his visions were ; But his awaking was despair. XII. The poet's aim is pure and high ; The poet's love can never die : lb' pants for gales that ever blow, He thirsts for streams that ever flow : His eye is soft as Luna's ray, lei dazzling as the orb of day. Light as the silver-shining rill, 'i "i. as the ocean, deep and still. Now loves lie in the ahade to lie, Now sparkles like the butterfly, N'ow like a swallow -kinis the ,\<>u basks 1 1 i ii i in i in- sunny beam. 12 THE POET'S DREAM. He softly breathes on Nature's lute ; To hear his lay, the winds are mute, And air and heaven and earth and sea Swell with deep love and sympathy. He soars where never bird hath flown, O'er regions vast, to man unknown ; He comes, and tells where he hath been, He comes, and tells what he hath seen ; And few believe; yet still he sings 1 Of his unearthly wanderings, And whispers into kindred ears A music tuned for happier spheres. In great and small his heart hath place, Of love divine he finds the trace, In woman more than beauty sees, In life unnumber'd mysteries : Dreams, if thou wilt ! so let it be : Fresh glories ever weaveth he ; Truthful and bright and spirit-free He dreams of immortality. » WOMAN. Lovbly Woman, honour to thee ! All our joys from thee begin : Tis our sweetest task to woo thee, Tis our dearest hope to win. Man in Eden wander'd lonely ; All was bright in earth and sky ; All rejoiced ; his bosom only Heav'd with pain, he knew not why : Woman came ; with new-born feeling Thrill'd through all his frame was he, As when waters uncongealing Dance in light and liberty : Warmer life his soul dilated, All ho had desired was there, Gift of Heaven, for him created, Love to wake, and bliss to share. ii. As the zephyr lightly roving Sports with every flower that blows, I asting sweets, but none approving, Till he finda the summer rose ; L3 i 3 1-1 WOMAN. Then the happy moment seizes, And the flower he loves the best Courts with all his softest breezes, Lingers on her balmy breast : Man a thousand joys are luring, But alone with rosy chain In a bower of bliss enduring Woman can his heart detain. in. Man is like the owl benighted ^ hi his dismal dream-like moods ; Thinks himself the clearest-sighted, When o'er darkest thought he broods As when clouds and darkness vanish At the break of morning-tide, Melancholy dreams to banish, Cometh woman to his side ; From his eyes the mist is shaken ; In the light of beauty free He beholds himself awaken To a blest reality. IV. Man with stormy passion rages, Dark and wild his spirits flow ; With Lis neighbour war he wages Of his brother makes a foe : » WOMAN. As when storm9 in fierce commotion Rouse the billows of the deep, Mermaids rising o'er the ocean Sing the troubled waves to sleep ; Thus let man his heart surrender Unto woman's gentle sway, She shall breathe a charm so tender, All his rage shall melt away. v. Oft when man forlorn and dreary On the bed of sickness pines, When the wretch with anguish weary To despair his heart resigns, Angel-bright approaching near him, Woman sheds her rainbow smile, Speaks the word of hope to cheer him And the painful hour beguile. When the hand of death is o'er us, Such the voice we hope to hear, Such the light to shine before us Streaming from a happier sphere. Lovely Woman, honour to tin All our joys from thee begin Tit, oui ' task to woo tt 'I is oui deareal hope i" win. 15 lfi MORNING. Whom do I in the East descry, Nearer now and nearer ; Silver-bright in a robe of light, Clearer now and clearer ? All in space she floats with grace, Radiant are her glances : Twilight fades, and distant shades Melt as she advances. Flaxen-fair the stream of hair Waving down her shoulder : Clouds with fringe of saffron tinge Like a scarf enfold her : Deeper hues her cheek suffuse, Like the bloom of roses ; Like the flush of a maiden's blush, That her love discloses. Who are they that throng in play ? Spirits young and airy, From their sleep in the misty deep Rise to greet the fairy. » MORNING. 17 All the band, as she waves her hand, Gaily flock around her, Fluttering and frolicking, Happy to bave found her. And the glee of their harmony In mine ear is ringing : Oh that I had wings to fly ! There would I be singing ! She the while her beamy smile Sheds benignly o'er them ; Yet she will be mounting still In the clouds before them. Lo, her brow is kindling now Into sunny splendours : "Who can tell to what holy spell She her soul surrenders ? Trustfully she looks on high, As when one believing Mysteries unearthly sees Past the mind's conceiving : And the stream of her golden beam Paster falls and stronger ; \nil those evil so dazzling shine, 1 can gaze no longer 18 CHANTICLEER. I would fain (but all in vain Is my mortal yearning) Drink the rays, till in their blaze Were my bosom burning. Is she gone ? There is not one Of those forms remaining, In the clear blue atmosphere Silent beauty reigning : All above is joy and love, Mountains fall asunder, Hills arise and kiss the skies ; Lost am I in wonder ! CHANTICLEER In eastern skies the ruddy dawn is breaking ; Now shakes his pinion strong, his dames awaking, The gallant Chanticleer : Down leaping from his perch, and slumber scorning, Thrice lifts he up his head, and thrice the morning Greets with a lusty cheer. CHANTICLEER. 1 'J Like water from a hollow mountain springing, Like silver chimes from out the steeple ringing Thy song is, Chanticleer : Glad tidings thou to sons of earth revealest, To dreams and darkness an alarum pealest Scattering their spectres drear. The owl within her ivy watch-tower sitting, The bat in air with drowsy murmur flitting, They hide them, Chanticleer : The famish'd wolf about the graveyard howling, The midnight robber in the forest prowling, They slink away for fear. The larks, already of reposing weary, Have quit their dewy glens as blithe and cheery As thou art, Chanticleer : What glee, when all the air with song they sprinkle, A thousand plumes aloft with splendour twinkle, The sun approaching near ! The housewife restless on her pillow turning Thinks of her todsome task and scanty earning, Till waxn'd by ChanticL Her lamp and embers she prepares lo kindle, Then says her early prayer, and plies her spindle., To feed the children dear. The ploughman with his team goes whistling gaily; Him from his pallet-bed thou callest daily, Thou neighbour Chanticleer ; 20 CHANTICLEER. With sturdy step the furrow straight pursuing, The stubborn breast of earth with might subduing, He renovates the year. The huntsman for the field bedecks him trimly, Tis time, he knows, altho' the morn shines dimly, When croweth Chanticleer : Soon shall he scour the mead, the vale, the dingle, While hound and horn their noisy uproar mingle, Sweet music to his ear. All ye, that honour time and health and duty, That love the balmy air, the morning's beauty, Hearken to Chanticleer: From him, ye sluggards, inspiration borrow, Awake, arise, and dream not of the morrow, For lo, to-day is here. Me, friendly bird, among thy votaries number ; Thou rousest me from soft refreshing slumber, Thy matin voice I hear : I go to wander o'er the sunlit mountain, I go to plunge me in the sparkling fountain ; Thanks to thee, Chanticleer ! » THE STREAM OF LIFE. Ever onward rushing Waters pour along ; Iiill from mountain gushing Cheers the earth with song ; Rivers full of gladness Kiss the meadows fair ; Cataracts in madness Plunge they reck not where. Rivers, rills, and fountains, Wherefore do ye flow ? O'er the meads and mountains Whither do ye go ? ( Hiding, leaping, springing, Endless waterfall, Murmuring, roaring, singing, Sea receives you all. Life is moving ever In a varied stream ; Manhood's brisk endeavour Follows youthful dream ; 21 HUMANITY. Infants with their prattle Make the moments fly ; Soldiers in the battle Strive they know not why. Wherefore without leisure Do we toil and play ? Busy hours and pleasure Whither lead us they ? All in restless motion Ever hurrying fast, In a boundless ocean Death receives at last. HUMANITY. Oh, why is Nature soft and mild ? Why do the moonbeams play O'er rippling waters, like a child Upon a holiday ? The zephyr woos the aspen-dree, And bids it gently move ; Birds wake their tuneful melody, And fill the air with love. HUMANITY. Charm is there in the modest flower That from the greenwood peeps, In verdure glistening after shower Like beauty when it weeps. The very storms are merciful, Their anger passes by ; And lovely is the tempest's lull, And sweet the rainbow sky. Therefore is Nature soft and mild, That human hearts may learn To tame the savage and the wild, To soothe the proud and stern. Itelax thy frown, thou lord of earth. Unbend thy haughty brow : Twas gentle woman gave thee birth, And once a child wast thou : And thou wert made for happiness, And thou wert bora for woe : Then welcome joy, that comes to bless, And check not pity's flow. The fairest path is wearisome Without a smile lo cheer, And heavier would affliction eoiue Unsoftcn (I by a tear. n COUKAGE. Praise to each heart, that honest courage warms : Praise to the soldier disciplin'd in arms, Who firm and fearless on the battle-day One duty knows, his leader to obey, Hears but the word that him to victory calls, And in the moment of his glory falls. Yea, not unblest is he. Yet happier those, Who make no war but with their country's foes, Ne'er draw the sword but in a rightful cause, For their own hearth and home, their faith, their laws. And happier still is he, who ne'er put on The soldier's garb, no laurel ever won ; But bears a heart of purpose firm and high, To fight the great Ufe-battle manfully, Himself, his pride and passions to subdue, The path of right unswerving to pursue, Despising pleasure, wealth, and world-renown, Earning his heavenly meed, a bright immortal crown. 25 THE PARTING LOOK. No braided hair, no chain of gold, No sparkling gem for me : I need not, Love, such tokens hold, To make me think of thee. I do not ask for magic spells To bring thee back to view ; Within my breast thine image dwells, My heart reflects it true. For others let the canvas warm With mimic colours glow ; For others let the stately form From sculptur'd marble grow. Oh, what are these P Tho' Art can trace Each feature bright and rare, Each line of loveliness and grace 5 The soul is wanting there. Could I forget thy last fond look Upon the parting day P The last and sad farewell we took When I was torn away P 26 A SERENADE. The tear along thy cheek that 6tole Said more than tongue could tell I read the anguish of thy soul That choked the word Farewell. Alas ! twere past the artist's skill That moment to restore : But love, fond love recalls it still To live for evermore. A SERENADE. O my fair one, my dearest, Here are none our steps to view ; Nothing but the wind thou hearest Murmuring the night-air through. Tis the hour when stars are brightest ; (Moonbeams now the mountains kiss ;) "When the lover's heart is lightest : Oh, for him no time bke this ! With the morn come fresher breezes, Mountains blaze with hotter fires ; But the lover's warmth it freezes, Heart from heart dismay 'd retires. » A SERENADE. With the dusk of eve returning Tender thoughts begin to move ; Heart again for heart is yearning, And the spirit wakes to love. Eyes by day are prying near us Into that which we conceal ; Jealous ears are cpiick to hear us, If we speak of that wc feel. Eve, to screeu the timid lover, Softly round him weaves her veil ; Then can he his hopes discover, Then the maiden hear his tale. Happy moments, when before us Nought there was but moon and sky, They their influence shedding o'er us, In thine ear I breath'd a sigh ; I did vow, and Laura listen'd, Throbb'd with gentle pang my breasl , Laura's eye with kindness glisten'd, I was loved and I was blest. O my fair one, O my dearest, Here are none our Btepa to see ; Willi thy lover nought thou fesrest, Thou art all the world to inc. D 28 THE ROSE. Written for my Daughter Rose's First Birthday. Heue is verdure and bloom on the bush and the tree, And many a flower sweetly blows ; But one is the dearest of all to me ; Tis the joy of my heart, 'tis the Rose. I have snowdrops fair, I have pansies rare, I have daisies that carpet the ground, The whitethorn of May with its delicate spray, And woodbine that clusters around : But the flower of my soul hath a lustre more bright, And a lovehness deeper than those ; The pride of the garden, the summer's delight, Oh ! the queen of them all is the Rose. The lily her head with gracefulness rears, The tulip with rich scarlet glows, A mantle of gold the daffodil wears ; Yet none may compare with the Rose. This darling of mine, her blush is divine ; She smiles like the Goddess of day ; I feast on the bliss of her dewy kiss, Till it charms my sense away, » THE ROSE'S ADDRESS. 29 I gaze upon each of my beautiful flowers, As their bud and their bloom they disclose; 1 blend them in garlands, I twine them in bowers ; In my bosom 1 carry the Rose. The summer is short, and the winter must come With her hail and her storm and her snows ; And things that are fairest in our pleasant home Must wither alike with the Rose : The perishing green of this sylvan scene lUeak winds of November shall sweep, The glories of June on earth shall be strewn, And novrers in their cold bed shall sleep : But whilst I have lite, my love shall endure ; Like a fountain for ever that Hows, Like a sunbeam that shines immortal and pure, Is the love of my heart for the Rose. Till-; ROSE'S ADDRESS. SjhjL'H I'y in'/ Daughter Rd» at tome private theatricals on her Seventh Birthday. Ji .r -even Summers have gone by, Since first a little bud was 1 : Time works a change ; ho I suppose, 1 in now expanding to a ELose. 30 THE HOSE 3 ADDRESS. In sunny June I had my birth ; The mom that welcom'd me to earth My parents fondly for my sake A day of mirth and gladness make, And twine me of mine own sweet flower A garland for the festal hour. Yet this, my friends, I'd have ye know, Is not design'd for empty show, But simply wreath'd, that I may wear A rose for every passing year, To mind me on my natal day How quick the summers glide away, And teach me, as in years I rise, I ought to grow more good and wise. THE ROSE'S ADDRESS On her Eighth Birthday. Another year hath flitted by ; How quick the hours and minutes fly Another rose adorns my brow, And I am changed, I know not how. It is for you, my friends, to tell, If I have used the minutes well, » i n: rose's addres>. 'il And need not. be ashamed to wear The symbol of a new-born year. I greet you all : may your good will And gentle thoughts attend me still ; And I will study all my days, How beet I may deserve your praise. I HE ROSE'S ADDRESS (hi. her Ninth Birthday. Another year a ninth rose brings, And I must speak more pretty things. The Muses were in number nine, Preceptresses of song divine : Nine roses may perchance inspire My lips with some poetic lire. A rose am I, and therefore wear A rosy garland round my hair : I Jut these which on my brow you Bee Arc blossoms not akiu to me ; For I am from a distant place, A rosebud of another race : I on a lovely summer's* morn Mid vales of Hertfordshire was horn, 32 PROLOGUE TO AN ALBUM. Where roses less the winter fear Than those which shed their sweetness here. To that dear home my memory clings With many fond imaginings, How there within the garden bower I bloom'd a little infant flower. Yet wheresoe'er I may be found Transplanted from my native ground, Contented with my lot I'll be, And wear a smile of gaiety ; At least when friends are in my view So gracious and so kind as you. PROLOGUE TO AN ALBUM. A present for my daughter May On her returning natal day. Tis ask'd, this Album to begin, That I should put some tribute in : Then let me first in simple verse The customary wish rehearse, That many a birthday she may sec As happy as on earth can be. PROLOGUE TO AN ALBUM. Next, (for on this I'd have ye look As prologue to the little book,) A word or two upon its use Were not amiss to introduo , Let nothing be permitted here In any fashion to appear, In print or writing, rhyme or prose, That doth not to the mind disclose Or.open to the fancy's view Some glimpses of the just and true. I do not ask for lofty rhyme, Inventive power or strains sublime, Which might exalt an author's name To pinnacles of worldly fame : \ 1 1 [ would have it understood, Whatever enters must be good, In moral sound, without offence To purity and innocence, A lesson for the virtuous fair, E'en though a sportive garb it wear. Such offerings bring ye : none but the) An- worthy of my daughter May. 34 THE DANCING CHILD. Her step is like the gossamer That floats on summer's breast, When not a leaf is seen to stir, And winds are lull'd to rest. Her step is like the silver wave That curls upoD the deep, When Ocean in his stilly cave Begins to wake from sleep. Tis like a zephyr on the wing ; Tis like a shadowy gleam Cast by the aspen quivering Upon a mountain stream. Tis like the footfall of the hour, That steals along in fear, Lest happy lovers in their bower Her passing tread should hear. They tell of fairies in the wold That dance their airy rings ; A lighter fairy here behold Than all the poet sings. » > rnu MAID "i l.ici'HNi. Yet comes sliL 1 not from elfin-land ; Of earthly mould is she; No wizard nor enchanter's wand Could make her bound so free. the young heart, that never care Nor name of sorrow knew, Tis this that makes her dance in air So elfin-like to view. In every glance the spirit beams, In every step is joy : Oh, let not age her infant dreams Too ruthlessly destroy. THE MAID OF LUCEKNT. The birds bad conch'd them in the brake, The deer upon the fern : ] here stood beside the glassy lake A maiden of Lucerne. Her brow was lily-pale ; hi C i \\ aa like the wave, clear blue, Soft as the ray B j i n »• • 1 1 1 i t .-k\ i pen the water threw . 36 THE MAID OF LUCERNE. She gazed upon the mirror-deep : " Oh, all is sad to me ;" She said — " I cannot choose but weep, Whene'er this spot I see. Here last did we together speak Under the linden bough : The tears were falling down my cheek, As they are falling now. Wilhelm was standing by my side, ^ My gallant mountaineer : And gently he my fears did chide. And kiss'd away the tear. A scarlet cloak and helm he wore, His long white plume it waved ; His broad sword-hilt he grasp'd and swore Danger and death he braved : »&* He said he braved it all for me, That he would rich return, And happy then our days should be In his own dear Lucerne. But I with him had been content In poverty to bide : For surely riches ne'er were meant Fond lovers to divide. » y THE MAID OF LUCBENB. .'{? Oh, what have we to do with war? W liy should the Switzer roam ? The mountain heights our castles niv. The pleasant vale our home ; The herd-boy milks his kine at eve, And sings his country song ; He hath no care his heart to grieve ; Merry he trips along : Each village youth in festal guise On holidays is seen, Contending for the rustic prize, Or dancing on the green ; There bounds he lightly as the roe, And clasps his maiden dear, And sweetly smiles, and whispers low What she is pleased to hear : And thus Wilhelm would clasp me oft And look'd so fond and true, And whisper'd words so warm and soft That to my heart he grew. Then sparkling flew the momenta by, Each Bwiftex than the lasl : But now I only weep and sii_ r li To think upon the past. 38 THE MAID OF LUCERNE. And he hath been long time away, And I have hoped in vain : Though day and night I wish and pray. He cometh not again. Had I but spoken all I felt, He ne'er had left me so ; I should have wept and pray'd and knelt, Or e'er I let him go. So many vows he then did swear, And I did all believe : Oh, why shoidd maids to men give ear, Or men fond maids deceive ? Ah me 1 I can believe no more : He never will return : And vainly I my grief deplore Upon thy banks, Lucerne." » E L Y S I U M. Dcvcncre loco3 ltftoe et aincena vin Fortuiiatiinim aemorom sedesque beal Qua gTatia currum Armorumque Curt viviB, qua cura niteni Pascero equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos. Beyond the Acherontian pool And gloomy realms of Pluto's rule The happy Soul hath come : And hark, what music on the breeze ? Twas like the tune of summer-bees, A myriad-floating hum. From spirits like himself it flowed, A welcome to his blest abode, That melody of sound : And lo, the sky all azure-clear, And liquid-soft the atmosphere: It is Klysian ground. To mortals who on earth fulfil The great Olympian Father's will Arc given these happy glades ; Where they from all corruption free In unrestricted liberty May dwell, etherial Bhades. 40 ELYSIUM. All shrubs for them of rich perfume, Amaracus and myrtle bloom, And flowers of brightest hue, The rose, the hyacinthine bell, And amaranth and asphodel, Are ever young and new. And silver sparkling rivers meet, Or glide with undulation sweet Their verdant shores along ; And echoes are in every dale Of airy harp and nightingale And babbling water-song. There is no bound of time or place ; Each spirit moves in endless space Advancing as he wills : The summer lightnings gleam not so, As life with ever varying flow The tender bosom thrills. And memory is unmixt with pain, Though consciousness they still retain Of joys they left behind : Whate'er on earth they held most dear, To pure enjoyment hallow'd here In golden dream they find. The pilgrim oft by whispering trees Hath strctcht his weary limbs at ease, And laid his burden down : » ELYSIUM ! I The reaping-man hath dropt his Bcythe, Ground him gather'd harvests blithe The field with plenty crown. The warrior-chief in soft repose Bethinks him of his vanquish'd foes, And martial sounds begin To rattle in his slumbering ear, The rolling drum, the soldier's cheer, And dreadful battle-din. The lover, whom untimely fate Hath sever'd from a worthy mate, Expects the destin'd hour, When she shall come his bliss to share, in beauty clad, divinely fair, W ith love's immortal dower. Meanwhile in many a vision kind He sees her imaged to his mind, And for her brow he weaves \ mystic bridal coronel, Such as no poet's tongue can tell, Nor human heart conceives. \ud now the Btrangei with a band Of fond companions hand in hand Is led into the grove . And straight for his beloved he looks ; Around the vales, the meads, the brooks, lli> eyes impatient rovi i 42 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. Whom on a bank of mossy green Reclined he sees, by her is seen, And in a moment both Together rush, like sunbeams meet, And in a perfect union sweet Renew their early troth : And all the fond Elysian band Around the pair in rapture stand, And songs triumphal chime Oh, this is love, and Hfe to live, Such joy as Hymen cannot give ; Soul-harmony sublime ! » THE SOLAR SYSTEM. A world was made ; the news in heaven was told ; In long array the angels stood to view ; Thro' the vast empyrean thunders roll'd ; God to his great design pronounced it true. Again his voice was audible ; and then The host of planets into motion sprang, Dazzling with sudden whirl the angels' ken ; Louder and louder hallelujahs rang. » SCIENCE ASH P0B81 Yet for a moment all disorder seems, A rush of elements and flash of fire, \- eo nets hurl'd abroad, or lightning-gleams Shot thro' the void in darkness to expire. But see! the planets from their onward High! Wheel in a circle and revolving go, Each in a track of unextingnisird light ; Order and beauty from confusion grow. Maze within maze, but round one centre all, Swing in a mystic dance those radiant spheres, Chiming their choral hymn, whose echoes fall Thro' depths of silence on celestial ears. Eternal God, Creator ! Thee they praise : They feel thy stirring power, thy doom fulfil : The universe thy light, thy law displays, The harmony of thine almighty will. SCIENCE AND POESY. Tile, sun (if old thro' ether's plain Pursued bis chariot-waj . I ayoked hi- OOOIsen in the main And (pieneh'd his burning raj I 44 SCIENCE AND POESY. Now centre of a world, with, force He guides revolving spheres ; Earth wheeling her appointed course Completes the days and years. Yet light and dark are still the same, The morning dawns and fades, The mountains blaze with noonday flame, And cast their evening shades ; And earth to us in calm repose Outspreads her bounteous store ; The field with fruit and harvest glows, The streams their music pour. Man hath not more than human grown ; Though Science wrings from time The secrets of the vast unknown ; Though striving Heaven to climb, Her Babel-temple she displays, And seems of power divine ; The heart from earth she cannot raise To worship at her shrine. But Poesy no sooner wakes Her golden-stringed lyre ; The heart of man she captive takes, And sets his sold on fire ; » I WIK. ^3 And up to Heaven she carries him, And realms of beauty shows, And then his eye, before so dim, All bright and piercing grows. Or if with her he soar not hence, Still wondrous art he learns, And by her magic influence Earth into Heaven he turns. FAME. " Mine shall all monuments surpass," The poet cries, as Flaccus did ; " One have I built more firm than brass, And higher than the pyramid." Vain mortal ! Thou among the dead In cold oblivion shalt lie : The epitaph thou shalt not read, That speaks thy praise to passers by. I'erchancc thy glories Fame may bear From north to south, from east to west ; But thou licr voice -halt nrvi-r hear ; Its echoes ne'er shall break th\ reel 46 FAME. Perhaps thy name will be forgot ; Or it may float upon the wind Unto an ear that heeds it not, And leave no kindred thought behind. Forgotten is Pythagoras With all his mystic treasur'd lore ; And many a sage, that mighty was In olden time, is known no more : Or if to us their names endure, We strive in vain their forms to see ; Like shadows thro' the dim obscure, They vanish at our scrutiny. Poets there were before the flood, Before our tribe on earth had place ; They wrote on parchment, stone, or wood ; Yet what of them is now the trace ? Whate'er they left iu prose or rhyme Hath been the mighty Spoiler's prey, The true, the beauteous, the sublime, With land and ocean swept away. Some earth-encrusted behemoth The wreck of ages yet survives ; Writer and book have perish'd both ; An ichthyosaurus both outlives. » * n TIIOHJIIT AND DEED. I i u, many a light thought man may cherish, Full many an idle deed may do ; Vi L not a deed or thought shall perish, Not one but he shall bless or rue. When by the wind the tree is shaken, There's not a bough or leaf can fall, Bui of its falling heed is taken By One that sees aud governs all. The tree may fall and be forgotten, And buried in the earth remain ; Yet from its juices rank and rotten Springs vegetating life again. The world is with creation teeming, Vnd nothing ever wholly dies, And things, that are destroyed in seeming, In other shapes and forms arise. Aud nature still unfolds the tissue Of unseen works by spirit wrought; And aoi a work, but hath its issue With blessing or with evil fraught. 48 THE MURDERER. And thou may'st seem to leave behind thee All memory of the sinful past ; Yet oh, be sure, thy sin shall find thee, And thou shalt know its fruits at last. THE MURDERER. Methought I was alone ! Yet if a single eye Beheld the bloody deed, oh, whither shall I fly ? And what if none of mortal ? The eye of God was there Prom Him I cannot fly ; for He is everywhere. I wander from my home ; yet He is ever near : I travel o'er the sea ; yet still his voice I hear: Above the thunder-roar of billows and of skies His voice is in mine ear : Thou murderer ! it cries. In busy crowds I plunge ; but all my presence shun, As if they surely knew the deed that I had done : I go from place to place, turn sunshine into gloom ; My guilt is like my shadow, to mind me of my doom: The curse of Cain is this. I saw an infant late, That in her arms a mother was holding at the gate ; It threw its little eyes in curious haste around, And still in every object some new enjoyment found ; And then on me it look'd, and shudder'd with affright, And to the bosom shrank recoiling at my sight. » > i in: mi ki>i:i:i !'•' It spoke not, little babe ; but yet it seem'cl to >a\ With pallid quivering lip: Thou man of blood, awaj ! Yet I was once a child, and innocent aa he; And shone the light of heaven as hopefully on me : A happ) tome was mine, and I had parents fond, Who cherish'd and who loved me all other things beyond : I've heard them tell how often they listen'd to my talk, And how my mother led me upon the green to walk ; And how she used to sit beside me as I slept, And watch me till the tear upon her eyelid crept : They gave me names endearing, their darling pet, their lamb; They little thought that I should e'er be what I am ! The steeple-bell it rang, as we to church did go ; I well knew every note, a- ii BWUng to and fro: A -ong of peace it was, that told of happier climes ; Of this 1 did not think, tho' I loved the merry chimes ; Bui now I cannot bear to hear a village bell ; The merriest note to me is like a funeral knell. Th.it hand is still* and cold, that guided me with care ; Tli.it voice is bush'd, thai taughl me to lisp my infant prayer ; And sunken are those eyes, that Loved my sports to new, Or, as away I bounded, my roving steps pursue. Hon gentlj would they chide me, that 1 their counsel spurn'd, As from some leal of peril a truant I n turu'd ! For I rejoiced in freedom to roam the mountains o'er, To Bee the broken clefts and hear the torrent roar, To pierce thro' rugged path-, the precipice to scale, Mm i mi ih. forest-deer, and lly before the gale. 50 THE MURDERER. Twas bliss to be alone ! The rock stood o'er the sea, And mock'd the rising waves, but never frown'd on me : Majestic in its fury swept over me the blast, And pine and cedar groan' cl, I quail'd not as it pass'd : I listen'd to the thunder, and wish'd it not to cease ; It tore the cloudy rack, but left my heart at peace : For innocence was there ; the passions unassay'd ; Accpiaintance none with hate and anger I had made : Twas first in human haunts that these I leam'd to know ; Twas there I first encounter'd the rival and the foe ; There felt the breath of scorn, the lip of cold disdain, The rankbng bite of malice, that loves another's pain : Then passions to inflame me with feverish force began ; The bitter fruit was this of fellowship with man. The lion's rage is quench'd, when he hath seized the prey ; He makes not of his pangs a pastime and a play : It is the human beast that wreaks his deadly spite, Leaves venom in the wound, in torture takes debght. Eelentless tyrant man ! Accursed be his race ! And curst the hours when I among them found a place ! Nay, rather curst be thou, who dar'st thy race malign ! No mercy thou didst show : a fiendish arm was thine ! Fast, warm the lifestream flow'd, the blood that thou didst spill : Twas red upon the earth ; 'tis red and streaming still : No sea can wash it out : the blood that once is shed Shall live to cry aloud upon the guilty head. Oh, could some mountains rise myself and me between ! Yet mountains mountain-piled could never hide that scene ! THE .Ml llDIKKR. 5] lis ever fresh ! Meseems as time had ceased to run, The past were now my present, eternity begun. A single thought, a moment, my wrathful arm had stay'd, Perchance some pitying angel had suminon'd to my aid : Ah me ! revengeful wrath nor man nor angel heeds, But instant to its purpose like the lightning speeds. Yes : stormful were my passions ; to monster strength they grew ; No friendship on my youth did shed its kindly dew ; And they were in the grave, whose tender love had tried To heal my festering wounds and soothe my angry pride : And lonely I was left ! Behold that ragged boy : His footstep lightly moves, and in his heart is joy ; Or, if with pain it swells, the teardrop softly flows, lie tells his mother all, and comfort she bestows. But I have none my grief to comfort or to share ; My crime may not be whisper'd in the silent air. Communion, converse, welcome, and sympathy denied, Myself I cannot pity ; the fount of tears is dried. The sun is sinking low, day hastens to its close, And weary toilworn mortals shall have a brief repose ; The world shall be at rest; pain, poverty, disease, All wretchedness but mine, 9hall be awhile at ease : The vulture of the desert shall to her couch repair, The foxes to their hole, the tigeT to his lair : Bul I can rest no more; no slumber visits me; Prom thoughts thai rack my soul no midnight sets me free . Bui hideous dreams affright me, unearthly shapes arise; I see that bleeding ghost with his red glaring eyes ; 52 THE RIVER WYE. I wake and find it true, and raving up I start With fever on my brow and despair in my heart : The dreams pursue me still, and nowhere can I flee ; Eest, refuge there is none, nor peace nor hope for me. THE RIVER WYE. The Wye risea very near the Severn, in . the wilds of Plinlimmon ; and after flowing through part of South Wales, Herefordshire, and Monmouthshire, empties itself into the Severn a little below Chepstow. The two rivers thus form all but an island. Gloomy paths and steep, Who will dare to follow, Where ye overleap Glens and caverns hollow ? Goblins there and elves O'er the darkness hover : Where they hide themselves Man may not discover. Hark ! from underground Heard I not a moaning, Melancholy sound, Like a fairy groaning ? » i 1 1 1 1 ■: B i V Y. B W J I Tis the streamlet's voice From the mountain risen : Doth she not rejoice To have left her prison ? No : that gurgling tone Speaks her mournful-hearted ; For she comes alone, From her sister parted ; From Sabrina, whom She in deep recesses Of the mountain-womb Clasp'd with fond caresses. Forth to light they stray'd : Where was it she miss'd her ? Vaga, luckless maid, Hast thou lost thy sister ? Cease thy vain alarm : Thou shalt yet behold her ; In thy loving arm Shalt again enfold her. On thy course meanwhile Lonely thuii shalt ramble, Many a weary mile, Over brake and bramble ; 53 54 THE RIVER WYE. Wildernesses through, Precipices under ; Places ever new Thou shalt see and wonder ; And with dance and song Thou shalt often cheer thee, Merry bound along, And the woods shall hear thee ; Now in silence creep Timorous and humble, Now adown the steep Bold and headlong tumble. In the silver sheen Of thy stilly waters Mirror' d shall be seen Cambria's fairest daughters ; On the broad expanse Of thy hanging billow Starry beams shall dance, Kainbows make their pillow. In her sunny plains England shall receive thee ; Here soft beauty reigns ; Nothing more shall grieve thee : » 'J TI K R I V E K V> V I .". .) Cities thou shalt view, Spires and lofty towers, Castles peeping through Ivy-cluster'd bowers ; Meads where fruit and flowei All their riches mingle ; Verdure mantling o'er Every dell and dingle : Gently sloping hills, Groves that bend to woo t!i Thousand mazy rills Pouring life into thee : Thou disporting here, Home no more regretting, E : en thy sister dear For a while forgetting, In that fairy-ground, Many a nook and _ alley Winding round and round, Wouldst for ever dally. But by Tintern's vale Ol aei i noughts will move th When with \ LSOge pale Hangs tin- moon above thee 56 THE "RIVER "WYE. See how dim it falls On the ruin yonder ! In those moss-grown walls Shapes unearthly wander : From those cloisters bare Through the shafted portal Voices float in air, Seeming more than mortal. Who be thev whose sighs Echoing come so faintly ? Prom the tomb they rise, Shadowy beings saintly : Though no bght of eve E'er reveal their faces, Though their footsteps leave On the sward no traces : Here, be sure, they walk ; Tis their ancient dwelling ; To each other talk, Of their sorrows telling ; Of their hopes to come, Sins to be forgiven, Of the judgment-doom, Of their faith in heaven. » DIE RIVER WYE. Quick the moment Hies : Thou must sleep no Longer ' Let thy waters rise Swifter now and stronger : Lo ! they rise, they urge All their depths in motion ; With a frothy surge Heaving like the ocean ; *- And a wild unrest In thy bosom rages ; Sure, that swelling breasl Something new presages : Yonder o'er the leas Comes a nymph to meet thi Hither on the breeze Music wafts to greet thee : Tia the lost, thine own, of whom thou dreamest ; All ! how comely grown, Little yet thou deemed ! Passing bright and fair ! I [asten ; thou shalt find h< With her yellow hair reaming loose behind hi 58 THE RAILWAY. And her robe of grace All majestic flowing, On her virgin face Crystal beauty glowing ; Naiad-like ! Tis she ! Up with joy thou leapest; With a cry of glee Down the vale thou sweepest : To her open breast Warm with love thou springest, And the closer prest Closer aye thou cbngest. From Sabrina thee Nothing more can sever : To the boundless sea Koll ye on for ever. THE RAILWAY. I HIBD me to the railroad, and with wonder and delight I look'd upon the bustling scene that broke upon my sight ; A motley crowd, the young, the old, the busy and the gay, And carnage close to carriage link'd in long and bright array. » 1EE RAILWAY. The brass-ribb'd engine stood in front, and fiery red it shone, And spat forth hissing steam, as if impatient to be gone : The signal rang ; and like a ship just launch'd into the main, With unimpeded easy march majestic moved the train. But soon its course grew more and more impetuous and strong, And soon its full collected force in thunder roll'd along ; And swifter than the swiftest wind that flies from pole to pole, Thought after thought incessantly came rushing on my soul. Tis thus the man of stern resolve straight to his purpose goes ; The prospect all before him bes, no obstacle he knows ; No dalhance can him surprise, no weariness delay ; He never turns to pick the flowers that spring beside his waj In hollow cloven tracks we dived, and rocks were o'er our 1 On huge earth-piles we mounted, and the vale beneath was spi Ye mighty of our kindred, what are hill and vale to you ? Ye raise the low, the rough ye plane, all Nature ye subdue. We skirted field aud meadow, flocks and husbandmen we saw ; They Ufted up their heads, and stood regarebng us with aw e ; Bui us from field and meadow far the rapid moment bore, And tlocks were grazing, husbandmen were tilling as before. A ml Nature to our feeble sight her wondrous work displays, We heed it not, perhaps in brief bewilderment we gaze ; We live among her harmonies, but ->tudy not their laws, We reap creation's fairest fruit, hut think not of the caua . 60 THE RAILWAY. Upon a gently sloping lawn a modest mansion stood, And children frolick'd on the grass, and laugh'd in merry mood ; And when the bulky train they saw, and heard the loud uproar, They paus'd not in their merriment, but only laugh'd the more. And thus does it befall the vain and pompous of the earth ; They think to move our wonder, when they only move our mirth : The barge with all its bravery comes splashing down the tide, But nought the little fishes care that under water glide. \-v A shriek, as if in agony some demon- spirit yelVd ! And straight before with gaping jaws a cavern I beheld; And aU beyond that narrow mouth look'd hideous and grim, A vista long of darkness lit by glimmering torches dim. Shriek, monster ! It may be thy fate against that cavern- wall To dash thyself, and shiver'd in a thousand pieces fall ! And fearful tis to plunge into that solitary gloom ! How dare the living to explore the silence of the tomb ? Yet in it rush'd precipitate, the iron caravan ; The hollow echoes right and left reverberating ran : And on it went right steadily. Thus Courage ever fares, When forward on the path she goes, which Prudence Avell prepares. And out we came triumphantly emerging to the plain, And daylight brightly shone, and all was beautiful again ; And often, when in deepest gloom of sorrow we abide, There breaks upon our dreariness a sudden morning tide. » THE RAILWAY. 61 Soon spire and turret rose to view ; a peopled town was near ; Then slacken'd his impetuous course our wary charioteer ; The engine, like a hard-rnouth'd steed that feels the curbing hand, Came pulling to the station-side, and halted at command. And passengers alighted here, and passengers got in ; To some their toils have ended, when to others they begin ; And new companions still we find, and still the old we lose, The dearest friends we cannot keep, the best we seldom choose. The minute's past, the bell hath rung ! Quick to your places now ! Here's one with Hushing countenance and sweat upon his brow Down running to the platform comes ; alas ! too late, too late ! The train is off ; for time and tide for no man ever wait. And over many a mile we sped, and over many a league, And much I saw, and never did my spirit feel fatigue ; And if at times my weary eye on vacancy would rest, The busy thought was never still self-stirring in my breast. I mused upon the multitude, whom chance together brought ; And neighbourhood, could one discern, with lessons deep is fraught ; Tis strange, that man from brother man small interval should part, And nought they see or understand of one another's heart. The man of ease and comfort was reclining in his chair, Like Selfishness, that holds her own, ami gives to none a share; The poor man heaven-canopied , the hailshot and the rain. The tempest-wind may bullet him, and he may not complain 62 THE RAILWAY. The violet in her leafy bed beside the bramble grows ; The gardenman roots out the weed, but cherishes the rose ; Yet Heaven on flower and weed alike its dewy nurture sends, And light and shade of human life mysteriously blends. A wedded pair with glances held their silent commune sweet, As in the solitude of heaven two stars each other greet ; And passing things seem'd shadowlike to flit before their eyes ; Their world was all within themselves, a dream of paradise. A maiden by her mother sat ; ten years she might have seen ; And she had laugh' d and prattled much ; but now with alter'd mien Said, looking in her mother's face, "When shall we be at home?" Her mother loook'd at her again ; I thought the tears would come: They started from her eyelids, and the cause I surely knew ; Upon her face the widow's cap its shade of sadness threw : No husband waited her return ; his step she woidd not hear ; And home to her a desert was, that once had been so dear. And she was tired, that little child ; the minutes crept so dull ; Of troubling thoughts and memories to her they were not full : The time may come, when she will look upon the dreary past, And ask with sad remembrance, why the years have flown so fast. And what is he, with lips comprest, and sullen fixed eye ? Deep meanings in that furrow'd cheek and arching forehead lie : Meth ought, in one keen flashing look tbe past and future met, A struggle 'twas to seize on hope, and cast away regret ; » THE RAILWAY. 63 And then his eye -grew cold again, a glassy aspect wore : Some nurseling of his anxious heart he darkly brooded o'er : Could I thy meaning penetrate ? Eevolvest thou some plan With honour pregnant to thyself and benefit to man ? Or veavest thou some spider-web with subtle meshes fine, A miserable prey to catch ? Whate'er thou dost design, The web shall be unwound at length, the mystery be told, And dark be light, and thou thyself and others thee behold. And I ? Alas ! But hence away all selfish griefs I throw, Forgetting them in sympathy for others' weal and woe : To love and friendship let me live ; no other hope is mine ; A few kind hearts are beating yet ; and I will not repine. Roll on, fire-winged courser, roll ! With all thy speed, I trow, The hearts of them thou earnest are swifter yet than thou. A fiercer flame enkindles them. Tumultuous and blind, In hope, in fear, they hurry on ; thou laggest far behind. Aye, gather all thine energies, roll rapid as thou wilt ; Thou canst not yet move fast enough for Avarice and Guilt . For her that counts and gloats upon the pell' she cannot see, For her that Hies from all the world, herself can never llee. And we, with all our journcvings, our headlong mad career, We cannot lengthen human life. The end is still as near. XJnstay'd by us, thro' light and darkness, ov< r di ep and shoal The billowy lime-iiver sweeps right onward to its goal 64 THE HORSES. Yet speed along, thou mighty one ! It hath been said of thee, That with the spirit of the age thou dost too well agree ; Thou seemest with remorseless step self-confident to fly, And man doth vaunt Sahnoneus-like, and heavenly power defy. Tis false ! To spirit more sublime the age hath given birth, Whose seraph-wing is waving now, illumining the earth ! And wondrous that machinery, that thunderpace of thine ; Yet he that moulded thee doth own his origin divine. Then forward ! Still upon thy course prosperity attend ! And thou shalt be to high and low, to rich anchpoor a friend ; And thou shalt scatter wide the seed of plenteousness and peace ; And man shall move him to and fro, and knowledge true increase. THE HORSES. RACER. Thro' my lattice the dawn I saw, And fresh I rose from my bed of straw ; A.nd quick the heart within me stirr'd, Soon as my rider's voice I heard. HUNTER. I rose while yet the morn was pale ; With eager breath I snuff 'd the gale ; Bat when I heard the bugle sound, I knew no rest and I paw'd the ground. THE HORSES. r ' r ' WAR-HORSE. I rose from the turf whereon I lay, While night was melting into day ; For waked was I by sound of drum, i knew the hour of battle was come. RACER. They led me where in long array My rivals stood all sleek and gay ; And when I look'd on their gallant trim, My blood it thrill'd thro' every limb. HUNTER. They led me where in medley throng My comrades stood all stout and strong : I laugh' d aloud, and shook my mane, I long'd to be scouring o'er hill and plain. war-horse. They led me where for fight array'd My comrades stood in full brigade ; I long'd to be charging on the foe, And man and horse in the dust to throw. RACEK. My rider wore a cap of blue, His coat was all of crimson hue Light were the colours, and bright they shon It was a brave caparison ! 66 THE HORSES. HUNTER. A scarlet coat my rider had ; His countenance, like his heart, was glad ; And his glowing cheek and flashing eye Shone like the sun in the eastern sky. WAR-HORSE. A coat of scarlet too had mine, That shone with gold and silver-twine, A helm of steel, and a waving plume That frown'd as black as the midnight gloom. RACER. In line we stood ; the signal rang ; Then from the barrier forth we sprang ; The turf before us like velvet spread, Melted the ground beneath my tread. HUNTER. The hounds they bay'd, the horn it blew, They scour'd the underwood thro' and thro' ; And soon there rose a brisk halloo ; The game was up, and away we flew. WAR-HORSE. The music in our ears that play'd Was the roar of deafening cannonade ; Thro' clouds of smoke we led the way With steady march to begin the fray. » THE HORSES. <> 7 RACER. Oh ! twas a glorious sight to see Our fonts of strength and rivalry ; While shouts behind and shouts before Bui urged us on to speed the more. HUNTER. Oh ! twas a glorious sight to see The burst of chase o'er vale and lea ; Steeds bravely vieiug with dogs and men It was no time for dallying then ! WAR-HORSE. Oh ! twas a dreadfid sight to see The meeting of hostile cavalry ; The toni-up earth with the fallen spread, The dying mingled with the dead ! RACER. Foremost I shot, and strain'd my eyes To see the goal and win the prize ; I saw it not, and I flew with the wind, For I heard the tramping of feet behind. in NT Kit. The chase grew hotter, and on 1 went I la bing o'er nil imp< diment, Springing aloft like a bird of air, Plunging headlong I reck'd not where 68 THE HORSES. WAR-HORSE. Over the bodies and bloody plash, All amid bullets and sabre-clash, Bravely to conquer, or nobly to die, "Where the combat was thickest, there flew I. RACER. I look'd, and I saw the goal at length, And I gather'd all my might and strength, And ere another minute had flown, s The line was pass'd, and the prize my ovsfh. HUNTER. The prey was in view, he was faint and slack, Close at his heels the yelbng pack ; Foaming I came and panting for breath, Just as he gave his shriek of death. WAR-HORSE. One onset more ! They spurr'd our flanks, We fell like a tempest on broken ranks ; AH was slaughter and mingled cry, Ours were the shouts of victory. 69 To C. W. [The father of the lady to whom these lines are addressed was an oflinT iii I In' Indian army, ami served in the campaign against Tip] s.tik lie was severely wounded, and lost his hea and hiti sight. His daughter was for many years in constant attendance upon him, conversing and reading to him with her tiir. To help the sightless Homer of our land A daughter's faithful service was at hand, Recalling to his ear full many a page Of ancient wisdom and a classic age ; Blc6t maiden, who could recompense the care Of such a father, and his loss repair ! Mor less, Cecilia, do we view in thee An image true of filial piety ; Whose parent through a dreary length of years Alllicted sore a double burden bears. An ear is his with cold obstruction bound, I »rad to the world of harmony and sound; Eyes lustreless, that never greet the day Or feel the bright effulgence of ber ray : Bui fur ,-i ihn.liti r'a lovi . I he same iom That wt.ij - the Benses would the mind entomb. Thou, fond one, at his side art ever near. His wants to aid, his solitude to cheer : 70 BIRTH OF THE PRINCE. A skill is thine, a patience nought can tire, By finger-speech to commune with thy sire, By touches light and nimble to convey Whatever pen could write or tongue could say. From silent darkness thou hast set him free, Thou mak'st the deaf to hear, the blind to see. AccompHsh'd lovely dame, by nature fit To dazzle by thy beauty or thy wit, Expert in mazes of the dance to swing, Or wake sweet echoes from the tuneful string, Thy soul, for ever placid and serene, ^ Eschews the tumult of the festive scene, The gay saloon, the rout, the midnight ball Content to quit for sacred duty's call. Be thine the meed to virtuous daughters given, A father's blessing and approving Heaven ! ODE On the Birth of the Prince of Wales, November 1841. Was it thunder spoke, or the cannon woke That peal that shakes the ground ? Again and yet again ! I know the sound ! Tis the cannon's voice that says Rejoice ! England an heir hath found ! BIRTH OF THE PRINCE. "/ I The glorious birth it announces to Earth : A Prince, a Prince is born ! The welcome word From tongue to tongue hath pass'd along, And the City's heart is stirr'd ! The tread far and near of thousands I hear ; From street to street in throngs they meet ; Men are there with brows of care, Chddren by the mother led ; Sickness hath forsook her bed, Poverty hath ceased to toil, Hush'd is angry strife and broil ; All one thought inspires : Quick and anxious hurrying by, They ask each other eagerly If 'tis a dream that mocks their fond desires. It is no dream ! That chime of bells With all its power from the lofty tower The tale of gladness tells : And lo where on high, saluting the sky, Our country's loyal banner is unfurl'd : Arise, arise, rejoice, thou City of the world ! Night is past, and mora at last To crown our hopes is come ; Beams the light of hraveiiU grace On yondei kingly ilonn 72 BIRTH OF THE PRINCE. There they lie, a beauteous pair, Princely Child and Mother fair, The hopes of all our race : And he is near, to England dear, Who sees reflected from an infant face Himself, the Father to a line of kings. Victoria smiles upon her boy, Victoria knows the joy, That only from a parent's bosom springs ; Or haply down the royal cheek A pearly tear-drop steals, Telling what no words can speak, All the wife, the parent feels. Yes, she shall melt with tender love opprest ; She, in whose heart all England treasur'd lies, And mightiest empire's destinies, Now in her hour of weakness shall be blest : She for her babe shall breathe the silent prayer, And for a while forget a kingdom's care. In many a British hall There shall be mirth and festival, And none so poor but in that festive glee Shall^have their share, while sport and game And pageantries proclaim A nation's jubilee. Cities a blaze of splendour shall raise, Dazzling the moon, and turning night to day, » BIRTH OF THE PRINCE. To And with revels detain the wondering swain, Till morning-blush hath summon'd him away. In Cambrian vales the minstrel wild Llcwellvn's heir shall sine:, Llewellyn's heir and England's child The mountain echoes rins:. Nor Scotia's voice, nor Erin shall be dumb ; Her song of triumph o'er the wave shall conic : Some hand of fire shall seize the lyre, And to a sacred rapture wake the string. Rejoice, ye Britons ! But with holier thought Your mirth be temper' d : bend the knee To Him who for our Queen hath wrought From pangs of death delivery : To Him whose mercies never end Let this our lowly orison ascend. O Thou, from whom all blessings flow, To prince and peasant, high and low, Look, we beseech, with aspect mild Upon the Mother and the Child ! I he Mother to her strength restore, Upon the Child thy mercies pour ! i front that he grow To manhood's prune and kingly majesty, And learn his people and himself to know 74 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Make him to be True io our faith, our laws, and liberty, A light to us, a minister to Thee ! Oh, while I pray on this auspicious day, Do Thou my soul inspire ! Now blessed be the morn On which this child was born ! Blest be his princely Sire ! Long life to her that England's sceptre sways ; But still be thine, Lord, the glory and the praise THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Written on the occasion of the Birth of the Prince of Wales, November 1841. My spirit scorns repose ; Big with a nation's joy my heart o'erflows, And bids me speak my triumph to the air : Hear me, ye winds ; proclaim To all of British name, To join the choral song, the gladness share. Our prayers* are heard on high : Victoria's race shall never die ! Roll, Father Thames, roll onward to the sea, And tell the waves their destiny : Subjects of our crown are they : Bid them now to Britain's shore » THE BRITISH EMPIRE. 75 Tides of gratulation pour : With dance and music let them conic, Sparkling, light, and frolicsome : Victoria's heir is born this day ; Hit children's children still shall ride these isles : Let earth and ocean wear their newest smiles ! Speed o'er the wave, ye winged messengers, And bid all nations hail, Where'er the British sail Hath borne from home her roving mariners, Bold hearts and true, an empire to subdue, Or succour frail distress, Or clear the wilderness, Or open mighty worlds to Wisdom's view. Awake from sleep, ye coursers of the deep ! Your colours Unbind, and give to the wind ! All by the bay of dark Biscay Speed ye along and never stay, Cam the news of our joyful day To the pillars luain, where in the main The Sun-god dipp'd his car, Ami Calpe's ruck defies the shock ( )!' tempeBl and oi «;ir The gardens trim where tin oranges bloom, \nd the honey-bee loves their rich perfume . 76 THE BBITISH EMPIRE. The isles go seek by the blind old Greek In ancient story sung ; The rugged strand of Ithaca's land, To which the Wanderer clung ; Zacynthian fruity fields, and uplands blue Of olive-clad Corfu : Linger not, but hasten on To vales of piny Lebanon ; There shall ye say, A son to her is born, whose thunderstroke On Acre's walls cast wild dismay > And Egypt's empire shook. Ye Syrian maids, your garlands twine, Rejoice, ye girls of Palestine ! Ye may sit at ease in your rosy bowers, And chant your lays at evening hours : To Sion's holy mount and Siloa's brook The pilgrim now may come with hymn and prayer, Unscathed by Copt and Mameluke, Secure of Paynim snare. Away, away, without delay ; Tis Britain doth command : Steer for Afric's parch'd domain, For Sierra's gleaming sand, Whose dusky children bless the hand That broke th' oppressor's chain. » » THE BRITISH BMPIBE. 77 Soon shall ye reach the Golden beach, Ami headland clad with vines, Whose peaceful key of the southern sea Britannia ne'er resigns : Onward thence o'er the main immense, Where earth's great round with a zone is bound, Where the windless prow Is hurried along by the ocean's flow, To the spicy gales that fill your sails From groves of myrrh and frankincense, To the sultry tide where the dolphins glide Gambokng oft on the amber spray, \ntl mariners ever devoutly pray For the albatross their masts to cross And speed their homeward way Bear the news afar To rugged coasts of Malabar, To Comorin'a peak and rich Goleonda's vale ; Go tell the tale In palmy groves, where India's patient sou Weaves the soft web, and, when his work is done, Hies from the noontide beam To vest him in the shade B) overarching banyan made ; I )ii Jumna's stream, \\ h( k tin iniiih rs ride in then- towers of prid< 78 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. And panting tigers thro' the jungle flee ; On Ganges' fertile flood, and snow-clad Himmaleh. The lonely shepherd on Australian hills Tends the fair flock, and sings the rural lay ; His thoughts are far away On Lomond's lake, or where a thousand rills Pour down the side of mossy Cruachan : Soft is the air, and cloudless heaven abov^ ; Birds with gay plume the tranquil breezes fan, And flowers of radiant beauty light the grove : Him nor the cloudless heaven nor breezes mild Nor gaudy-feather'd birds so well can please, As the bare heath and mountains, where a child He wander'd free and wild, Full of young hopes and fantasies, And when the eagle scream'd, To him more musical it seem'd Than sweetest song of nightingale ; And storms that o'er the mountain roll'd, And mists that tipt with gold Eose steaming from the vale, To him more glorious to behold Than skies of brightest azure were. He too of Britain's joy shall hear : With quicker heat his veins will beat, When the glad tidings come, » * i in: BRITISH EMPIRE. ',\> And tears will start from his deepest heurt, To think of his native home : For he knows full well, his heart can tell, There shall be song and mirth on Scottish ground, And pipe and ilute shall not be mute, And many a foot iu ectasy shall bound. O merry Scottish cheer ! O bonny kinsmen dear ! By exiles most beloved, tho' loved in vain! silver-whispering lakes ! heather-blooming brakes ! Tliere happy once was he; there would he be again ! On Canton's wave our floating batteries lie, And hoist their flags of victory: The shore is yet with ruin Btrew'd, The city wrapt in gloom, Slaves who their own destruction woo'd In silence wait their doom ; The Briton from deck surveys the wreck Of the stormy battle-day, I li-* fury quench'd, like a lion drench'd \\ ith blood of his mangled pre) . Mild is his sonl, save when at glory's rail He comes resolved to conquer orto fall ; Remorseful pity then away be thron \\ bile all In ■ country in bis bosom glowc 80 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. He springs to the fray, to strike, to slay, No power can resist him then, Like a demon of strife, he mows down life, And tramples on groaning men. Him shall calmer thoughts employ, Holier transports now, Tidings of a nation's joy Lighting up his brow : Leaps not his heart at the happy news ? Methinks I can see the jovial crews ; I can hear the swell of their loud hurrah, As they shout Long live Victoria ! What panic shall seize the pale Chinese ! Methinks I can see the Mandarin, How he starts in his silken tent At the sound of English merriment, As if he had heard the battle-din. Woe to ye, children of Cathay ! Where is all your vast array ? Where the pride of Tartar chivalry ? Invincible hosts are on your coasts ; Your feeble squadrons flee : Not with the leopard strives the tender hind ; Birds of venturous flight The sovereign eagle's might, When struggling in his claw, too late shall find. Haste from the field, and prompt submissiou yield ; With suppliant voice, not arms, accost the foe ; » THE BEITI8H BMPIBE. y l For just as brave is he, to anger slow ; The meek lie spares, but lays the haughty low. Ilush'd be all ruder sound ; Ye winds, your murmur cease : A vision bright appears in sight, The meek-eyed angel, Peace, With love and mercy crown'd : Upon th' Atlantic main she waves her dewy wings, Her rainbow locks in air streaming, while thus she sings Joy to the earth 1 a princely Son Hath blest the shores of Albion ! Peace and joy to all she sends, Gracious arm to all extends ; Happy they whom she befriends. Mild is her empire, just her reign : She forges not a ruthless chain, In vassalage the brave to keep, And make his noble spirit weep ; She doth not arm the spoiler's hand ; She doth not send a flaming brand To fright the peaceful, wound the just, ( he lay tin ir cities in the dusl . She never strikrs, till Btrike >!u- must ; Then, at the word, right faithfully ller ministi re ol vengeance th . 8:2 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Swift as the lightning bolts that clear A dark oppressive atmosphere. Countless on their watery way Bound her vessels light and gay ; Light as clouds that sail at e'en Earth and silver moon between ; Gay as the larks that scorn To rest on summer's mom. See how they dance o'er the broad expanse, Ever careering, never fearing; Albion o'er the wave appearing ^ Calm and high, her sceptre shows ; Free and safe the wanderer goes ; They that rove to vex the seas, Outrage foul and treacheries, Vanish hence, nor dare, I ween, To meet the wrath of the Ocean Queen. Children of Britain, wheresoe'er ye dwell ; In lone Guiana's sounding woods, Or by the torrent floods, That in thunder leap down Niagara's steep, As if from heaven they fell : Whether wrapt in furry hide Ye chariot o'er the snowpath wide To meet the blasts of Labrador ; Or whether on the heaving breast Of Lawrence, breezy gulf, ye rest The merry dashing oar, » THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Upon the spires to gaze That shed their silver blaze On Abraham'* height, which England's champion domb To win a deathless conquest and a tomb: Ye who in tropic isles abide The summer's torrid glare, Where earthquakes rend the solid mountain-side, Where the harvest in heaps a hurricane sweep-, Or fever-damp from rain and swamp Infects the putrid air : Ye who on Winter's icy ground Pursue the grisly bear, Or huge Leviathan with steely wound, Oft as he rises thro' the bleeding surge, To flight and madness urge : \ e v, ho in Arctic regions frore With storms eternal to the farthest bound Of Nature pierce, her mysteries to explore : Children of Britain, wheresoe'er ye roam, Think of your native land, your mother home ' For Bhe -li.dl be to you A mother fond and true ; Bach gale thai blows on balmy wing The bounties of in r lo\e -hall bring. The name of England i- a star ^ our duteous path to cheer, < in watery wastes, on fields of war, 84 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. In all your wanderings drear : Thro' the world's vast length 'tis honour, strength ; A spell to assuage the tyrant's rage, The savage to control, To arm with might the freeman's right, And thrill the patriot's soul. With English birth and England's worth What titles can compare ? Such wealth endures ; it all is yours, To boast, to feel, to share ; N Her glorious hopes, her goodly seed On Time's maturing bosom cast, Her chronicles of thought and deed, The memory of her mighty past. Sons of one soil, tho' space may sever, Yet kindred love unites for ever : As fairy harps each other greet With silver tones, that whining stray Till one into another play ; Thus mutual aspirations meet, And patriots waft o'er land and sea The spirit of their loyalty. Unblest is he, that cold and stern For distant land ne'er heaved a sigh, Whose hopes and wishes ne'er return To where a father's ashes lie. And what be they, who dare betray Their fealty and faith, » » THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Who e'er could stand with sword in hand To do their country scath ? Heirs of misrule, thro' sin and darkness borne, While phantoms they pursue, Themselves forsaken, outcast and forlorn, Their madness they shall rue. The island throne amid the tempests rear'd Shall be your guardian shrine, Where still shall sit a Prince revered Of ancient Saxon line. Glad homage pay to his sceptred sway ; For in his behest ye shall all be blest. Your hardy race from place to place, In many a distant clime, Shall be seeking abodes, Traversing pathless roads, In the east, in the west, Like birds on their quest of a home of rest , From whom, far scatter'd in revolving time, A fruitful seed shall rise, And lift Britannia's glory to the skies. Victoria's heir shall view them from his throne, And claim increasing millions for his own : From side to side of his kingdom w ide Hi- wakeful eye shall range, I fi^ princely love, where'er thej rm e, No distance shall estrange. 86 THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Prerogative of bliss, True royalty is this ; To feel how sacred is a people's charge, Imperial care with empire to enlarge, A nation's hopeful destinies to guide, For weal of coming ages to provide ; On far and near, on great and small With equal light and warmth to shine, Of wisdom bounteous and benign An omnipresence felt by all. Thus at the sun's command the planets noil : He of that radiant universe the soul, Abiding in his majesty supreme, Creation's law proclaims ; the tuneful theme Each planet echoing as it whirls along, Kesponsive to his mighty thunder- song, The fountain of their joy they circle round, And thro' eternal space their harmonies resound. » » ^7 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE ALBERT. This Sonnet was prefixed to the Transl ition • bj permission to His Roj I Highness, and published in 1849. It alludes more particularly to certain improvements in the coui Cambridge studies, suggested bj the Prince after be had become Chancellor of the University. To England's nation doth the praise belong Of him whose virtues have her people blesl ; And for our glory shall it live exprest In many a page of story and of song. Yet marvel not, amidst a grateful throng, If Granta's sons, her wisest and her best, Should haste to pour in language unreprest The overflowing of the heart and tongue. Camus, the morn with beauty shone serene, When Albert stept upon thy reedy shore ; The Muse a look of love and promise wore ; And Science now unshackled may be seen With Btately form and Loftier than before Pacing tin- alleys of thy tnargent grei d 88 TO PATIENCE SWINFEN. For an explanation of this Sonnet, I must refer to my Report of the case of Swinfen v. Swinfen, argued in the Court of Common Pleas in November, 1856. A perusal of the affidavits, which are annexed, will enable my readers to appreciate the calumnious attack made upon me, and the motives of those who made it. I trust that neither calumnies nor menaces (even from High Quarters) will ever deter me from doing my duty. England hath need to thank thee, suffering Dame ! For thou shalt purge the volumes of her laws Of many an idle page, of errors, flaws By Ignorance traced, the record of her shame. Thine was a courage singly to exclaim 'Gainst Might perverting Justice. For thy cause Truth, Wisdom, Virtue, stand. The glad applause Of millions greets thee. Honour'd be thy name ! The canting tones of dull Servility In halls of Themis shall be heard no more ; And tricksters shall unlearn their crafty lore : So potent is thy spell ! At sight of thee Behold where Treason skulks with conscious dread, And base Corruption hangs her guilty head. » » 89 llli: LATE DR. SAM1 EL \\ LRNEFOB.D. The munificent benefactions of this gentleman are \\\\ \. 9] The sylvan lawn, rude Nature all alone ,M o'er the scene and claim'd it for her own. But now. dear lleathbourne, on thy cultured ground Man's dwelling stands, within thy peaceful glade The garden smiles in loveliness arrav'd ; On yonder modest wall the fig and vine Luxuriant spread their leaves; thro' ivy shade Tlic honeysuckle peeps; and jessamine And blushing rose their richest sweets combine. VI KW OF \ M \M T\ That placed you side by side, and hemm'd you in This narrow corner of the mighty sea, Bidding the waves, that uncontroll'd and free Around ye roll, your rocky shores defend. happy isles, could ye but comprehend The will of Heaven, fond Sisters ye should be, Nor ever but in works of love contend. THE THIRTY YEARS PEACE. .1845. A thirty years of peace ! There was a time, Which yet in characters of blood we trace, When thirty years of homicide and crime With ravages deform'd fair Europe's face. But that so long beneath our western skies IIII. I. ATI, BIB UOBEUT L'£i;i.. Nor clarion-])* .il nor tocsin's chime hath rung [ts prelude to a nation's funeral crie Should move the grateful heart and thankful tongue. Mas ! the spirits that for carnage thirst Still range abroad unseen, with malice rife To gather up the elements of strife : Which Heaven avert ! Thou, England, be the first To quell their impious rage ; and rallying round Thy peaceful standard may the world be found ! THE LATE Silt ROBERT PEEL. 1844. Oft have I seen a vessel on her track ('having the waves, and spreading all her sail, \- birdlike she would fly before the gale ; That met In adverse storms and beaten hack ilful would shift her course, and turn and tack This -till earnest nol to fail ■ for the port, and spit onns prevail. And lo a statesman, who the power doth lack I [is onward path undevioua to pursu< ; And ever and anon h • - i m- to VI Wide of the goal, which Btill he keeps in vnw, And whither strives with all his mighl to Bteer : B< set b) faction, to bis country true, I I im his great heart doth on his journey cheei 98 THE LATE LORD DENMAN. 1851. Denman, the surname of the just be thine : For thou of England's justice long hast weigh'd With even hand the scales, nor ever made From right to wrong the balance to incline. Others, I ween, more ready may be found The law's Boeotian riddles to explain, Words from their meanings cunningly t§ strain, Or reason out of nonsense to compound : Twas thine a nobler virtue to achieve : Truth sat upon thy tongue, which ne'er could deign To hide the heart, to flatter or deceive : The sunbright heaven is not from taint more free, Than was the bench of Themis, graced by thee. When shall our country see the like again ? SHAKSPEAKE AND MILTON. Shakspeare and Milton, I have Hved with you, Have mused upon your lessons oft and long, And listen'd to the music of your tongue, Ye prophets of the holy and the true : And bold from such companionship 1 grew ; FRIENDSHIP. 99 My spirit ever rose refresh'd and strong, As from the stream of your immortal song A life-sustaining nourishment it drew. Interpreters from Heaven to man were y< ■, Eagles of never-drooping poes] , Whose pinions to the founts of light could soar. Insphered like stars in glory ye abide, For bard and seer to gaze, your country's pride, The wonder of the world, for evermore ! i rii:m)siiii\ As ofi the star that shines at eventide Consoles the hapless wanderer on his way \\ ith kind assurance of a gentle ray, 1 1 is solitude to cheer, his path to guide : Tis thus when man is by misfortune tried. Some gentle presence doth his fears allay. When he with comfort to his heart e;m say, Thai truth and pity still on earth abide. Eternal Goodness! from thy spirit flows The beam of merry, kindled at our birth In human heart-, to .-often mortal woes : Without which all were chaos on the earth, A u ilderness of dark deformity, \ diil of the lighl thai elevafc a to thee. 100 CHARITY. Stern Winter with her iron ringers cold Hath fasten'd on the earth ; with icy chain She manacles the waters of the plain, Pond, lake, and stream, and many a river bold : Yet Father Thames and Severn, as of old, Uplift their billows and their course maintain ; Hasting with mighty purpose to the main, They roll along majestic, uncontroll'd. And when it pleases Heaven with chastening hand A nation to afflict, th' ignoble crowd Shrink in themselves, by selfish terrors cow'd; A generous few their hearts the more expand ; Their presence pierces thro' the gloomy cloud, And sheds a ray of blessing on the land. PHJLANTHKOPY. All that is good, eternal Lord, is thine : This universal globe, creation's plan, The virtues and the energies of man, Are wonders of beneficence divine. Thy glorious works for our instruction shine ; » DBM08THEN] B. In] And Thou invitost us to view, to scan. To worship and admire, as best we can, The features of their marvellous design. A few are chosen (still be thine the praise), To whom at distance infinite is given To imitate the wisdom of thy ways. re righteous, who unweariedly have striven Xbur monuments of bounteous love to raise. Abide on earth, to do the will of Heaven. OKMOSTIIIAKS. On for a voice like thine, Demosthenes, An eloquence to us but little known, I hrawn from the oracles of faith alone ! How welcome would it be in times like these ! I I was the -pirit of thy fatherland In thunder crying — Athens must be free ! What patriot, thus arous'd, could idle be? What freeman could the -acred call withstand? Truth is most mighty, spoken by the true. Ye sons of Athens, never had the cant Of the declaimer or the Bycophanl Led ye againsl the -pear- of Macedon: All \\ ithoul le had the \ ictor won, \ml dying Freedom had not slepl with you. L02 MARS AND MINERVA. When Mars by Vulcan had been found Committing trespass on his ground, (I might perhaps have spoken plainer, But decency would be no gainer ;) The Goddesses were vastly shock'd, , They blush'd, they titter'd, and they mock'd ; Poor Venus, no one would receive her ; The married gods were in a fever ; And many a one was heard to say, "Whose turn is next to come, I pray?" Alarm'd was Hercules for Hebe, And Phoebus for his sister Phoebe : Saith Juno privately to Jove, " This is a sad affair, my love : What can be done ?" Saith Jove to Juno, " I really cannot tell ; do you know ?" " A thought just strikes me ; thank the stars ! Suppose we find a wife for Mars : If we can get him once to marry, At home he will be forced to tarry." » M\!;s \M> MIMKVA !<>:{ ■ \ ii.l who'a to be the lady then P" [nquired the King of ( roda and men: To which she answer'd with a query, •■ What think you of .Minerva, deary ?" " My favourite child!" the Monarch said ; " Who vows to live and die a maid!" " Such vows," replied the Consort regal, " Arc neither binding, sir, nor legal. And pray consider, if yon please, The match brings great advantages; < )ur son with Pallas for adviser Must surely steadier grow and wiser: The veriest rake with such a wife Would soon amend his mode of life :" Her counsel to reform the pickle Did mightily the Thunderer tickle: " It shall be >o ; I'm quite agreed :" Be rang the bell for ( ianymedc : '• We'll drink to Mar- and his corrector! Saturnia smiled, and ripp'd the nectar : " ll. the War-god and bis bride \\ iih heart] laugh the Monarch cried. And drain'd hia cup of sparkling ruby ■ l [e don't deserve her though, the I I>\ I" 3 04 MARS AND MINERVA. Mars liked not much the haughty fair ; Yet promise of a dowry rare, Of title high and princely splendour, Soon overcame his scruples tender : At first Minerva play'd the prude, And would not hear of being woo'd ; By slow degrees her heart relented, And she, to please papa, consented. So matters stood, till one fine day ^ Jupiter met the son of May ; They sat clown sociably together, And, after talking of the weather, Quoth Hermes : " May I be so bold ? You mean to wed, sir, I am told, Your daughter to the God of battle ? Is't true, or only tittle-tattle ?" " Tis true" " I came with all dispatch To speak to you about this match : For to advise is my vocation:" Jove nodded here in approbation : " My trusty Hermes, what you think Speak boldly out, and nothing blink : There's not a person whose opinion I value more in my dominion." » » M.VK3 AND MINERVA. 105 •• Then hear, great Jove. 1 mean no Blur Upon the War-god's character ; Hut you must be aware most fully That he's a blusterer and a bully : To quarrel both with great and small For him is quite professional ; He's always kicking up a riot, And only you can keep him quiet : Controll'd by your imperial curb, The peace of heaven he can't disturb ; For Strength that lacketh rhyme or reason Ne'er prospers nor in sport nor treason. Pallas by counsel guards your throne, Submits to you and you alone ; Your self-born child ; so you proclaim her ; W e the Celestials Wisdom name her : Her nature is to peace inclined, Though she can fight when she's a mind, As Mimas and that ruffian Cceus Found to their cost, with big Typhosus : Her shield before us all she threw, •\inl put to flight the rebel ore* : Without her ffigis, where, I wonder, Would Jove have been with all hii thunder? 06 MARS AND MINERVA. Excuse me, sir ; but by the Styx, I don't admire your politics : To Mars you'd give the peerless Maiden With burden of your empire laden ! He left us in a sulky fit, Not pleased at your command to quit ; But fortified by this alliance He'll set your Highness at defiance." " Sure, my Cyllenius, you're in joke." " I nevermore in earnest spoke: If Mars should wed the fair Virago, For aught I see, to pot we may go. With Mistress Pallas at his side, His lack of wit by her supplied — I know not if the rascal scurvy Won't turn Olympus topsy-turvy." " But won't it then her duty be, The same as now, to stand by me ? Think you, Cyllenius, there is danger That marriage will from Jove estrange her ?' " She will be subject to her spouse By virtue of the nuptial vows : And who's to say, she would not rather Obey her Husband than her Father ? » » THE HEFEK1.M I 1 0*3 By sovereign Tower should Wisdom -land, And Force keep under her command : L i witless Force be Wisdom's master, \nd nought can follow but disaster." He ceas'd. The Father of the Gods Again in approbation nods : " Well, my good Hermes, have you spoken The match from this day off is broken." THE REFERENCE. I Law Case of the last Centura . ) Twas on the last day of assize All in a circuit town, (List to my song, ye learned throne Array'd in wig and gown : In written or in printed book This case I ne'er did Bee ; I tell it as a little bird Did whisper unto me :) For trial duly came there on A special jury eau e brie£a before tin- coun -< I \\ ith volumes of the I; 108 THE REFERENCE. A Serjeant rose with stately mien, His voice was clear and strong, And launch'd into an opening speech Which threaten'd to be long : Deep silence was in all the court, Each juror lent his ear, With hope the plaintiff's bosom swell'd, Defendant quaked for fear : But all this while the learned Judge Unto himself did say, " Sure at the Bishop's I'm engaged To dine this very day ; A Marquis and a royal Duke And Duchess will be there ; I really cannot stop away From such a grand affair : But let me see ; tis half-past three, The Bishop dines at six, To-morrow I to London go ; I'm in a pretty fix." Tis great occasions do the man Of quick invention try ; To 'scape from his distressful plight A way the Judge did spy ; THE REFERENCE. 109 No sooner him it flash'd across Then up his mind he made : " Now, Brother, to your statement I Have close attention paid ; And turning all things in my mind, It hath to me occurr'd, A case like this — 'twere not ami^s That it should be referr'd." Up the defendant's counsel jump'd, A desperate case had he ; And " with your Lordsliip," he exclahn'd, " I perfectly agree." •' What says the Serjeant?" — " 'rood, my Lord, I could be well inclined, But my attorney, worthy man, Is of a different mind." " Oh, very well!" — the Bigwig cried, As back his head he drew, And at the man of tape a glance Significant he threw : The wary Serjeant interposed: " My Lord, I always find Your Lordship to the parties is ' lonsiderate and kind , 110 THE REFERENCE. And if two minutes you can wait, Or peradventure three, We '11 try this matter to arrange As it arranged should be." " My time it is the public's all," The Judge did straight reply ; " And minutes two or three to wait Objection none have I." • Then Serjeant, Lawyer, Plaintiff, (To watch them had been fun,) Their little pates together put To see what could be done : '•' Shall we consent ?" — the whisper went ; The plaintiff he look'd blue : " I came to seek for justice here ; My cause is good and true." " What matters that ? Twere treason flat His Lordship to oppose : Against the summing up 'tis rare The verdict ever goe6." What further passed among them, Importeth not to say ; The plaintiff and his lawyer bold Keluctantly gave way : » THE REFERENCE. 1 I I Up rose the c ounsel, and outspake The elder of the twain : " My Lord, this interval of time Hath not been spent in vain ; Our clients are content to do What humbly we advise" — " They could not" — quoth the learned Judge, " Have done a thing more wise : And sure am I the jurors all Will mv conviction share, That this long suit and sad dispute Is best arranged elsewhere." The Jury bow'd : his Lordship's face A gracious mildness wore ; The very wig upon his cheek Grew smoother than before : The counsel folded up their briefs And sat them down at ease ; Each blandly on the other smiled : They'd pocketed their fees : Behind the Serjeant might be seen A youth unknown to fame, Yet boasting of a tail descent ; Lickspittle was liis name ; 112 THE REFERENCE. Amid the forum's wordy strife In ambush wont was he Beside his silken friends to wait, Expectant referee : For hear, ye suitors, hear a truth Which meet it is ye know ; On arbitrations four or five Young counsel fat may grow. » Now, reader, I will end my tale As briefly as I can : The Sergeant's voice declared the choice ; Lickspittle was the man. Twas all arranged; the Court broke up, And at the trumpet's sound The chariot of the Judge was heard Fast rolling o'er the ground ; The man of ermine sat within, And I can well beUeve, To think how clever he had been, He giggled in his sleeve. L13 THE WKDXESBURY Ml Ml I There was a Wedn'sbury Miner, A gamecock rare had he ; Nt vlt a better or finei All Staffordshire did see : This cock, while yet hut a chicken, Would fight with a four-year-old ; The fowls were all panic-stricken At his bearing so gallant and hold And Boxer he was christcn'd, His breast it was white as snow ; The Miner's eyes they glisten'd, \\ henever he heard him crow : And out of his band he fed him On barley ami cak<* and ale, \nd w Inn to battle ho led him, Was sure he could never fail : And Boxer's fame was vaunted, And ever) stakr he won , The neighbours all were damn.. I. for he In- match li.nl none . 114 THE WEDNESBURY MINER. At last, so saith the fable, A chap to the Mijier came, Whose eyes and face were sable, And Nicholas was his name : Quoth he, " I've a thorough-bred cock, Sir, That never has yet been tried ; And I'll make a match with Boxer For fifty guineas a side !" A match, there's no retreating, For fifty guineas a side ! They fixt the day of meeting At Wedn'sbury next Shrovetide. And now to Wedn'sbury cocking There posted a motley crew ; From Bilston all came flocking And Wolverhampton too ; The tailors, the butchers, the bakers, The coalmen of Dudley eame down, The pin and the button-makers From smoky Brummagem-town : The ring was soon completed, The cocks were both brought iu, And Nick the Miner greeted With a nod and half a grin : ► » THE WEDNE8NUUY MINER. . 11 The Blackman'a cock was meagre And spectrelike to view, Yet lie seem'd for combat eager, And be crowed as loud M two : When all for the fight was ready, They gave the word of command ; Each bird marched bold and steady Out of the master's hand : And there was no demurring, They met with pinion and heel, And tierce was the clapping and spurring, And bright the flashing of steel : Alas ! how fleeting is glory To fowls as well as to men ! Great Boxer, his bosom gory, Fell never to rise ajren. '.- The Miner was i ti 1 1 1 . • in wondei 11<' scarce could believe bis eyi Tin: amazement he was under All power of speech defies : And still he stood for u minute, Then off his jacket he tlm-. " The devil himself i^ ill if Bui I'll be revenged <>n you '" 116 THE WEDNESBUKY MINER. " A light ! fair play's a jewel ! " Was echoed from the crowd: " Come on, and I'll pound you to gruel !" The Miner call'd aloud : The Blackmail he grew blacker, Soon as the challenge he heard ; " The devil then be my backer ! I'll take you at your word !" That voice made all of 'em nervous, Unearthly was the sound ; They whisper'd " Lord preserve us !" But form'd a circle round : The fight not long continued, For at the very first blow The Miner the iron-sinew'd Was in the dust laid low : And all the people assembled Turn'd pale when the sight they saw ; They shiver'd and quaked and trembled, And looked at old Nick with awe : They looked, but oh, how horrid ! A change came over his mien ; And horns appear'd on his forehead, Where none before had been : THE WEDNESBUKY MINER. 117 There were eyes all red and fiery, A pestilent brimstone smell, And a pigtail curling spiry : Sure 'twas an Imp of hell ! They leapt up harum-scarum, And kick'd the benches down, And fast as legs could tear 'em They scamper'd out of the town ; The tailors, the bntchers, the bakers, The coalmen in frantic mood, The pin and the button-makers, As if by the devil pursued. Tis sure no theme for laughter : The Miner was left alone, And what became of him after, Was never to mortal known. TRANSLATIONS. S E M E L E, a iBrama. (TRANSLATED FROM SCHILLER.) FIRST SCENE. JUNO. ( Alighting from her chariot ; a cloud floating round her.) Peacocks, bear hence my winged chariot ; Await me on Cithseron's cloudy top. {Chariot and cloud vanish.) Ha! I greet thee, house of my relentless hate ; I greet thee with a curse ! Abhorred roof ! Detested ground ! This is the place where Jove, False to the nuptial bed, his wanton tricks Plays in the face of day. A woman here, A mortal, creature moulded of the dust, Dares from my arms to tice the Thunderer, SEMELE. I I 9 And hold him on her lips in thraldom vile. Ah, Juno, Juno ! sad thy doom ! Forsaken, all alone Thou sitt'st on heaven's throne. Thine altars steam with rich perfume, Knee-worship still is left : But what is honour, what to thee Is heaven, of love bereft ? Eor this rose Venus from the sea, To bow thy pride, to wound thy peace : She with magic smiles Gods and men beguiles : And now, thy sorrow to increase, Must be born Herrnione ! Nought is left but woe for thee ! Am I not of Gods the Queen P Sister of the Thunderer ? Spouse of almighty Jove ? Doth not heaven's axle groan at my command ? Stirs not upon my head th' Olympian crown ? I feel myself ! A Goddess Queen ! The blood Of Saturn swells thro' my immortal veins. Revenge, revenge ! Shall I be made the jest of Semele P Shall she among the Gods in halls of heaven Cast strife and discord with impunity ? Vain, idle worn 120 SEMELE. Perish, and learn beside the Stygian stream That eartldy dust is not divinity ! Thy heaven-aspiring thoughts shall be thy fall, Thy Titan eiforts crush thee ! Arm'd for revenge I come from high Olympus : A soft ensnaring speech have I devised, Fair nattering words, wherein destruction lurks. Hark ! her step ! She comes — She comes to certain death. Now, Godhead, veil thyself in mortal garb. [>S%£ retires."] semele (calling within.) The sun hath now decbned. Eun, maidens, run, Perfume the chamber with ambrosial sweets, Strew roses and narcissus all around ; Forget not too the gold-embroider'd cushion. And yet he comes not — and the sun is low. JUNO. «. {Rushing in in the form of on old woman.) Praise be to all the Gods ! My daughter ! semele. Ha! Am I awake ? or dream I ? Beroe ! SEMELE. 121 JUNO. Yes ; thy old nurse. Can ever Semele Forget me ? SEMELE. Beroe ! By Jupiter ! Come, let rne press thee to my heart. Thy daughter ! Thou livest still. And what hath brought thee here From Epidaurus ? Fares it well with thee ? Thou art my mother, as thou ever wert. JUNO. Thy mother? Once thou call'dst me so. SEMELE. And still Thou art, and shalt be, till in Lethe's wave I drink my senses to forgetfulness. JUNO. Soon Beroe shall drink of Lethe's wave : The child of Cadmus ne'er shall taste of it. >KMELE. How, my good Nurse ? Thou dicl-l not use of old To talk iii riddlea or in mysteries: The spirit of gray hairs is in thj tongue : I shall not taste, thou saidst, of Lethe's wave I JUNO. I said mi ; yes. But wherefore Bcoffesl thou 122 SEMELE. At ray gray hairs ? Tis true most certainly, They have no God beguiled, like golden ones. SEMELE. Forgive my thoughtlessness. Why should I wish To scoff at thy gray hairs ? Will mine for ever Thus from my neck in golden tresses flow ? But what was that, between thy teeth just now Thou mutteredst ? A God ? JUNO. Said I, a Sod? Well, well ! The Gods are everywhere, my child ; And we poor mortals are in duly bound To pay them homage : I might guess the Gods Are well content near Semele to bide : But why this question ? SEMELE. Spiteful creature 1 Come, Tell me what brought thee here from Epidaurus ? Not this, I'm sure, that the Gods love to bide Near Semele. JUNO. By Jupiter, that only. What a fire mounted in thy cheek, my daughter, When I pronounced the name of Jupiter ! Twas that, and that alone. At Epidaurus A pest is raging ; every breath of air Mil.!.. \2'i Is choking, all the atmosphere i> poison : The mother lights her infant's funeral pyre, His bride's the bridegroom : blazing wooden piles Turn midnight into day : shrieks rend the air; \nd all around is woe, unspeakable I multigated woe : Jove on our people Looks down in anger : vainly streams to him The blood of sacrifice ; in vain the priest Upon the altar bends his weary knee; Jove will not hear our prayer. Therefore am 1 Sent by my sorrow-laden fatherland To Cadmus' royal daughter, that on her Haply I may prevail, to turn from us The wrath of lleaven. Beroe the Nurse I lath power, they thought, with Semele ; with Jove I lath Semele as much. More know I not ; Less can I understand, what 'tis they mean, That Semi le hath so much power with Jove. semele (with ve&emen The plague Bhall cease to-morrow ' Tel] the people: Jove loves me I Am- ; to-day tin.- plague shall cease. .iimi i with astonishment I lli' Is it true, what thousand-tongued Game i mm Ida's monnl to Sasmue babbles of? Jovi I >\ < - l !hi- P Jo\ I I thee in all the pride. In which the heavenly Gods with wonder new him, When in Sahirnia'- embrace he sinks? 124 SEMELE. Ye Gods, now let my gray hairs carry me Down to the grave ; for I have lived enough. Saturn's great son comes in his majesty To her, to her, that first upon this breast Hath drunk — to her — SEMELE. Beroe ! He came A beauteous youth ; a lovelier did ne'er Flow from Aurora's lap : more heavenly pure Than Hesperus, when he hath bathed his limbs In ether's flood and balmy fragrance breathes. His step was earnest and majestic, like Hyperion's, when quiver, shafts, and bow Upon his shoulders rattle : As from ocean Kises the silver wave, his robe of light Upon the May-breeze floated loose behind him : His voice melodious, as the silver tune Of crystal streams, more ravishing to hear Than Orpheus' lyre — ■ JUNO. My daughter ! Inspiration Kaises thine heart to flights of Helicon. What must it be to hear, what heavenly joy To see him, when the bare remembrance even Transports thee like a Pythoness ! But how ? Nought hast thou said of the most glorious, The mightiest attribute of Jupiter, SEMELE. 1 2 J The majesty of the red thunderbolts, Whose motion tears the clouds. Most like thou grudgest To speak to me of them. A lovely form Prometheus or Deucalion may have lent : But Jupiter alone the thunder hurls : The thunder ; yes ; tis that, which at thy feet He throws ; it is the thunder, which hath made Thine the most glorious destiny on earth. SEMELE. What mean'st thou? I am talking not of thunder. JUNO (smiling). Thou 'rt in a jesting humour, I perceive. SEMELE. So heavenly as my Jupiter was never Man from Deucalion sprung. But nought I know Of thunder. JUNO. Oh, for shame ! That's pure ill-ualui. SEMELE. No, Beroe ; nu, by Jupiter ! JUM) Thou 9W( an M I.I I . I Bj •' upiti i naj Jupiter 126 SEMELE. JUNO. Thou swearest ? Unhappy girl ! SEMELE. What ails thee, Beroe ? JUNO. Speak once again the word, that makes thee wretched Above all women on the earth's great round ! Lost one ! It was not Jupiter ! SEMELE. Not Jupiter? Oh, horrible ! JUNO. Some knave from Attica Put on the likeness of a God, and thee Eobb'd of thine honour and thine innocence. (Semele sinks down on the ground.) Yes ! fall ; lie there ; and never rise again ! Let everlasting darkness cover thee ! Eternal stillness dwell around thine ear ! Cleave like a block of granite to the earth ! O shame ! shame ! which throws the chaste-eyed day Into the foul embrace of Hecate ! Ye Gods ! Must Beroe have lived with pain Thro' sixteen years of separation ; And must she see the child of Cadmus thus ? SEMK1 . L2? With joy 1 caine from Epidaurus hither; With shame to Epidaurus I return, And carry back despair. Alas, my people ! The pestilence may till a second flood Remorseless rage, with piled carcas O'crtoppiug (Etas mount, and all the land Of Greece may turn into a charnel-house, Ere Semele shall move the wrath of heaven. Deceiv'd am I, and thou, and Greece, and every one. SEMI. I I. [Rises trembling, and holds out her arms to Juno). Oh, Beroe ! J L'M). 5 t comfort thee, my heart ! It may be Jupiter; though much I fear me, Tis not ; but yet it may be Jupiter. We must discover quickly. Be must straight Reveal himself; or thou wilt banish him Thy presence; thou wilt give him up to Thebes; And death shall be the forfeit of his crime Look up, my daughter, at thy B< COei Winn.- {ace i- bent with sympathy on thii Shall we not prove him, Semele f m.mi.u .. Oh, no! 1 should then hml him not — 128 SEMELE. JUNO. And wouldst thou be Less miserable, wearing out thy soul In doubt and fear ? And if he were the God ? SEMELE {Hiding her face in Juno's bosom). Ah ! he is not ! JUNO. And shew'd himself to thee In all the splendour, which th' Olympian Gods Behold him in ? How now, my Semele ? Wouldst thou be sorry then, that thou hadst made The trial? semele {starting up). Yes ! he must reveal himself ! JUNO (quickly J. Before he sinks into thy arms again, He must reveal himself. Listen, my child : Hear what thine honest nurse advises thee : What love suggests to me, shall be by love Accomplish'd. Tell me, when will he return ? semele. Ere sinks Hyperion in the bed of Thetis, He prorais'd to be here. » -I MI.IT.. l-'J JUNO (hastily, forgetting herself.) I [e promis'd ? Hal So soon again ? to-day ? (Recovering herself.) Well, let him come : And when in all the drunkenness of love He stretches out Ins arms to thine embrace, Thou steppest back — thus — mark me — thus — as if By lightning struck : amazement seizes him : Thou dost not leave lain long in his surprise, Advancing with an icy freezing look To thrust him from thee : passionate and wild Thy lover storms ; the prudery of woman Is but a dam, that for a moment checks The torrenl ; booh with greater violence The floods come on. Then feignest thou to w© p Giants he might withstand, look calmly down, W Inn hundred-armed raging T\pheus Hurl'd Ossa and « Mympus at his throne ; But woman's tears shall conquer Jupiter. Thou smili it BO? the pupil hi 1- wiser than her mistress. Then wilt thou a>k a boon, a \>\-\ mii.iII And harmless boon, to prove to thee his love And his divinity. He swears by Si To grant it. Let him once by Styx be bound; And thi re is ao escape ' Then saj to him "Thou shah not touch this bod\ more, until 130 SEMELE. Tkou com'st to me in all the majesty Wherein Saturnia's embrace thou wooest." Be not alarm'd, if he display to thee The teiTors of his presence, flaming fire, And rolling thunder. These appearances He may raise up, to scare thee from thy wish. They are mere bugbears, Semele. The Gods Are loth in all their glory to appear Before a mortal. Only keep thou firm To thy request ; and trust me, Semele, Juno herself will look on thee with envy. ♦ SEMELE. The hateful creature, with her ox-like eyes ! Oft in the blissful moment of our love Has he complain'd to me, how she torments him With her black gall. JUNO (aside, angrily). Worm, for this scoff thou diest ! SEMELE. How now, my Beroe ? What mutterest thou ? JUNO. Nothing, my Semele. I too am troubled With the black gall. A sharp reproachful look Must oft with lovers pass for the black gall. And ox-eyes, girl, are not such very bad ones. 3BMSLB. LSI 8EMELE. Oli, Beroe ! Tiny are the ugliest, That e'er were Btuck into a woman's bead. And then besides, In r clucks are green and yellow, Visible fruit of her rank jealousy. Jove oft laments to me, how the curst shrew, With her vile temper and her loathsome lore, Leaves him no rest at nights. Sure, it must be Ixion's wheel in heaven. JUNO {bursting into a fury). No more of this I SEMELE. How, Beroe? So bitter? Havel said More than is true or wise ? JUNO. Irs; thou hast said More than is true, more than is wise, young woman : Think thyself Fortunate, if thy blue eyes l. gh not before then- time in Charon's boat. Saturnia hath her tempL 9 and her altar-. Ami wanders upon earth : nothing bo much Moves lu-r to wrath as bo imful insoL n -I. Ml. 1.1.. Let her come here, and witness my renown i Win should 1 rear her? Jupiter pi Bach hair of mine ; and how oan Juno hurt m< 132 SEMELE. No more of her ! To-day must Jupiter Before me stand in all his majesty, Though it should cause Satumia to find Her way to Orcus. juno (aside). There is one, methitiks, Will find that way before Satumia ; Let her be stricken by one glance of Jove ! \To Semele. Yes, she may burst with envy, child, whan thou, The wonder of all Hellas, mountest up In triumph to Olympus ! semele (smiling with pleasure) What ? Shall I 13e heard of, think'st thou, in my native land ? JUNO. Shalt thou ? Shalt any other name be heard of From Tyre to Athens ? Semele ! Gods of Heaven will bow to thee, Gods before thee bend the knee : Mortals in humble silence will be seen Prostrate before the Giant-slayer's Queen. In trembling distance — SEMELE (In exultation, falling upon her neck). Beroe ! - SEMELK. 188 JUNO. To worlds grown old tliy name White marble shall proclaim : Here men worshipp'd Semele ! Fairest of the fair was she : Down to earth for love of her Came th' Olympian Thunderer : At her feet he lay subdued, In the dust her kisses woo'd ! Fame with thousand wings ever noising on the gale Over land and ocean shall bear the glorious tah'. semele (in ecstacy). Pythia ! Apollo ! Let him only come ! JUNO. The prayers of men to thee shall rise With steaming altar-sacrifice. SEMELE. And I will hear them ! Yes ! I will soothe the wrath of Jove ; I his soul to tears will move; I will give them happiness ! JUNO (r/.V/V/V). Poor thing ! thou never wilt — Soon melted— Tel — To call me ugly ! — No ! To Orcii-^ u ii h compassion ! 134 SEMELE. {To Semele.) Away, love ! Let not Jupiter behold thee : But keep him waiting long, that he may burn And madden with impatience. SEMELE. * Beroe ! Sure, Heaven hath chosen thee to be its voice ! Oh happy, happy Semele ! Olympian Gods will bend the knee ; Mortals in humble silence will be seen Prostrate before the Giant-slayer's Queen ! But I must hence — Heaven grant — I fly, I fly. {She runs off 1 .) JUNO {Looking after her, loith exultation). Vain, idle, credulous woman ! His love-glance Shall be to thee consuming Are ; his kiss Destruction ; his embrace a lightning-storm ! Flesh is not able to endure the presence Of him who hurls the thunder ! Ha ! (In an ecstacy of rage.) Soon as her waxen mortal body melts Beneath her paramour's fire-dropping arms, Like flakes of snow beneath the mid-day sun, The false one, stead of his soft yielding bride, Clasps his own terror ! How triumphant then I from Cithaeron's top will feast mine eyes I » *i:m i I 1 How will I shout, and say the thunderbolt Shakes in his hand ! Fie, Jupiter ! for shame ! Clasp not thy bride so roughly ! SECOND SCENE. {The hall 08 before — a sudden light.) {Jupiter appears in the form of a young man. Mercury in the distance. ) JUPITER. Son of May ! MBKCDBY {kneeling). Jupiter ! JUPITER. Begone ! thy flight Speed to Scamander's shore ! A shepherd there Weeps by the grave of his lost shepherdess : Non<- shall be mourning, while Satumius loves! ( '.,11 back the dead to life. mi.i:< i K\ [rising). Almighty tine ; A glance from thee, and ftiea thy mei Hence in ;■ moment, In a moment back. 136 SEMELE. JUPITER. Stay ! as I flew o'er Argobs, my altars Sent up to heaven the steam of sacrifice : It pleas'd me, that the people honour'd me : Go, tell my sister Ceres ; thus saith Jove : Ten-thousand-fold the earth for fifteen years Shall yield its increase to the Argives. MERCURY. Father, With trembling speed I execute thy wrath, With joyful speed thy grace. For to the Gods Tis ever a delight to bless mankind, And to afflict them pain. Command me now : Where shall I bring their thanks before thine ears ? Below i' th' dust, or to thy seat divine In heaven ? JUPITER. To my seat divine below ; Here, in the palace of my Semele. Away ! (Exit MERCURY.) She comes not forth, as she was used, To meet me ; to receive th' Olympian king Upon her soft voluptuous swelling breast. Why doth not Semele come forth to meet me ? A gloomy, dismal, deathlike silence reigns Around the lonely palace, that was wont * # SEM To rine with voice of mirth ami revelry, a breath stirs — upon Citheeron's top Juno exulting stood — and Serin 1- No longer hastes to meet her Jupiter. t p - Hi ! the malicious one ! can she have ventured Into the sanctuary of my love ? Juno ! Cithseron ! her triumphant look ! My heart misgives — no! courage, Semele ! Courage ! I am thy Jove ! Heaven blow n a\i a) ill learn it ! Semele, I am thy Jove ! Where is the wind that shall presume to blow Roughly on her, whom Jove hath call'd hi- own ? I scorn the jealous— Semele, where art thou ? Long have I pined my weary toiling head To bury in thy bosom ; to rest my soul Prom the wild tempest of world-government ; To dream away my cares of sovereignty, A.nd I"-- myself in ecstaey of joy ! pleasing mad delighi ! O even to Gods [ntoxicating bliss ' W hat is the blood Of Saturn, nectar and ambrosia, The throne of Heaven, the golden Bceptre ? what is Godhead, omnipotence, immortality, Eternity, without the joya of love ? I he shepherd who beside a murmuring stream Upon his deai one's breasl forgets his sheep, Would euv\ not urc.it .low his thunderbolts Hut she is near Bhe comes ' ( » woman, pearl 138 SEMELE. Of my creation ; how adorable The cunning: artist, who created thee ! Twas I created thee ! then worship me ! Jove worships Jove for having been thy maker. Oh, who in all the universe of being Condemns this work ? How insignificant Vanish my worlds, my starry-flowing beams, My dancing systems, my sphere-harmonies, As the wise call them — how all fade away Before a soul ! (semele comes near, without looking up at him). JUPITER. My pride ! My throne, a dust-speck ! Semele ! {He rushes to meet her — she starts back). Thou fleest — in silence — Semele ! Thou fleest ? semele (pushing him back with her hand). Away ! jupiter {after a pause of astonishment). Dreams Jupiter ? Will nature fall * To pieces ? Thus speaks Semele ? — No answer ? Mine arm to thee with passionate desire Extends itself. So never beat my heart Before Agenor's daughter ; never so Throbb'd it on Leda's breast ; ne'er bum'd my lips For kisses of imprison'd Danae, As now — • EMELE. 139 9EHELE. Hold, traitor! JUPITER Semele ' SEMELE. JUPITER. I am thy Jupiter ! SEMELE. Thou Jupitei Tremble, Salmoneusl Dreadful soon in wrath Ifc will require of tlu-c tin- -tolm L r ui-<- Thou hasl pu1 ou. Thou art not Jupitei JUPITEB. 111.- uni' erse in circle whirl- around me \ii(i calli me so. 8EM BLE [mpostoi ; thou are no! ' .11 I'l I i B How, m\ adorable ? Prom whence thi tone ? Win. is the worm, thai Bteala thy hearl from me SEME] i \lv limit to him La given, whose ape thou art. Women are ofl beguiled bj crafty men in Gods' disguise. Thou art not Jupiter 140 SEMELE. JUPITER. Thou doubtest ? And can Semele still doubt My Godhead ? semele {mournfully). Wert thou Jupiter ! No son Of nothingness shall ever touch this mouth ! To Jupiter my heart I consecrate. Oh, wert thou Jupiter ! JUPITER. Thou weepest ! What ? Shall Semele shed tears, while Jove is by ? [Falling at her feet?} Speak ; say the word ; and nature like a slave Shall trembling lie before the child of Cadmus. Command, and streams shall make a sudden halt ; And Helicon and Caucasus and Cynthus And Athos, Mycale, Bliodope, and Pindus, Unfetter'd by my glance shall kiss the vale, And dance like snow-flakes in the darken'd air. Command — and north and east-winds sweeping down Assault great Neptune's trident, shake his throne : The sea shall rise and scornful overleap Its banks and shores ; lightnings across the night Shall gleam, and heaven shall crash from pole to pole ; Thunders shall roar from thousand gaping jaws ; Ocean his billows in rebellion rude Against Olympus hurl ; the hurricane SEMELE. 141 Shall sing to thee a song of victory ! Command — SEMELE. J am a woman, a mortal woman, How can the potter lie before his ware ? The artist kneel before his statue ? JUPITEH. Pygmalion bends before his master-piece ; And Jupiter adores his Semcle. SEMELE. Eise, rise ! Ah woe is me, a wretched girl ! Jove hath my heart ; Gods only can I love ; And Gods deride, and Jupiter contemns me. jupiti i; Jupiter? He who at thy feet is lying? SEMELE. He La enthroned above the thunderbolts In Juno's arms, he laughs to scorn a worm ? jupiti. i; Ila ! Semele ami Juno ' ^ bo a worm ? SEMEl I Oh, wen thou Jupiter! The child of Cadmua ( aspeakabrj were blest ' Bui woi it me ' Thou arl ool Jo 142 SEMELE. jupiter {rising). 1 am ! {He stretches out his hand; a rainbow stands in the Hall. Music during the apparition^) Now know'st thou me ? SEMELE. Strong is the arm of man, when Gods support him. Saturnius loves thee. Only Gods can I love. JUPITER. Still, still in doubt ? And think'st thou niy power Is borrow'd of the Gods, and not divine ? Gods often, Semele, to mortals lend Their powers benehcent, but not their terrors : Death and destruction is the seal of Godhead. Behold ! Destroying Jove reveals himself ! {He stretches out his hand. Thunder, lightning, smoke, and earthquake. Music as before.) SEMELE. Withdraw thine hand ! Spare, spare the wretched people. Saturnius hath begot thee. JUPITER. Foolish girl ! Shall Jove, thy stubborn doubts to overcome, Turn round the planets, bid the sun stand still ? It shall be done ! Oft hath a demigod Rent open the fire-pregnant womb o' th' rocks : # MILK. 1 tS To move the firm-set earth exceeds his power : That only Jove can do. [He airt ut kis hand— sudden darkness follows. M SEMELE (jalliny at ln.\l'< Almighty one ' Coidd'st thou but love ! i Daylight appe rs agu JUPITER. Doth Cadmus' daughter ask Saturnius, if Saturniua can love? A word, and he will cast his Godhead off, Be flesh and blood, and die, and be beloved SEMELE. Would Jove do that P JTJPITEE. Spi :•■'■■■ S imele . « hal mot Apollo's infest, 'twas ecstacy To be a man at ig mankind. \ look Prom thee — and 1 am one. 8EMELE. « I Jupiter The Epidaurian women laugh at me, And call thj Semele a foolish girl, \\ ho, though the Thundi rer loi i a in \i. favoiu from him. 1U SEMELE. JUPITER. Th' Epidanrian women Shall blush for their reproach. Ask ; only ask ; And by the Styx, before whose boundless might Bend even Gods in servitude, I swear ! If Jupiter delay to grant thy wish, The God shall in a moment strike me down Into annihilation ! SEMELE. By that word I know my Jupiter ! Thou swear'st to me* ; And Styx hath heard thee swear ! Then this I ask Let me embrace thee in no other form Than that in which — jupiter (with a cry of terror). Stay — stay ! SEMELE. Saturnia — jupiter (tryinij to stop her mouth). Hold— hold ! SEMELE. Embraces thee. jupiter (turning pale, and stepping back from her). Too late ! The word Hath pass'd her lips ! The Styx ! O Semele, Thy promis'd boon is death ! » 3EMELB. 1 1"» BEMELE. Is this thy love ? JUPITBB. L would give heaven, that I had loved thee less ! i Looking at her with horror). Thou an undone — fur ever! BEMELE. Jupiter ! J l i'lTBK. {Looking aicuy, and tcrathfully ) Now do 1 understand thy triumph, Juno! Curse on thy jealousy ! This rose must die ! Too precious — ah ! too fair for Acheron ! BBHBLE. Thou grudgesl to display to me thy glory. JUPITBB. ( arse on my glory, which hath dazzled thee ! ('urse on my greatness, which musl be thy ruin ! Curse, curse upon myself, thai I have built My happiness on rotten dust of earth! 31 Ml I I hi se are mere bugbears, Jupiter. I care nol For all th\ threats ' 146 SEMELE. JUPITER. Infatuated child ! Go, go, and take thy last farewell for ever Of thy companions. Nothing now can save thee. O Semele, I am thy Jupiter ; Yet that no more ! SEMELE. Ungenerous ! The Styx ! Remember ; thou shalt not escape thy promise. {Exit Semele.) JUPITER. No, no ! she shall not triumph ! she shall tremble ! By the destructive power, that maketh heaven And earth my footstool, I will bind the wretch Upon the ruggedest of Thracia's rocks In adamantine chains ! and this oath too — {Mercury appears in the distance.) What means thy bold advance ? MERCURY. Fire-winged, tearful Thanksgivings of the blest — JUPITER. Kill them again ! mercury (in astonishment). Jupiter ! JUPITER. No one shall be happj more ' She dies ! Mil. • i|, I AIK i >; ► » THE Tllll Ml'II OF 1,<>\ B [sciiiLi.ii; Happi an the Gods by Lovi . Men by Love like Gods are made, Heavenlier is !!■ aven above, Earth like l leaven in bliss array'd. Behind the back of Pyrrha thrown, Poets all declare, Sprang human bodies ont of stone, Men of" rock they were : ik and stone their hearts Composed, Night thi ir -"uls in darkni a < ed; Pierced them no celestial fire, Vital virtue to inspire No Cupids yel with rosy chain 'The unresisting heart enthrall'd : No Mu-e with lyre or VOCal strain I i life the tender passion call'd No youth enamour'd wove a h reath I ■ di ek his maiden fair ; The gentl( could onlj br< ath< In her Elysian air. i; 148 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. The morning unsaluted rose From out the eastern main ; Unhail'd the sun at evening-close Sank to the sea again. They wander'd all thro' forests brown, On which the moon look'd ghastly down, And bore an iron yoke ; No yearning for the starry sphere, No striving of the silent tear A Godhead to invoke. At length from out the blue wave springs Heaven's Daughter soft and mild ; The shore in rapture sings To greet the new-born child ! See ! like a dawn by Naiads drawn The Goddess comes ! The welcome birth Creation's doom fulfils ; And air and sea and earth A vernal gladness thrills. Upon the dreary wold Day scatters beams of gold ; Mowers bursting at her feet Shed light and fragrance sweet ; Now tunes the note of her liquid throat The attic warbling bird, And the pleasing brawl of the waterfall From hill and dale is heard. » THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. Blest Pygmalion, blest art thou ! Melting is thy marble now I Mighty victor, Love divine, In fast embrace thy children twine ! » * * Happy are the Cods by Love, Men by Love like Gods are made, Ileavenlier is Heaven above, Earth like Heaven in bliss array''!- • * * The. Gods live in voluptuous ease, An endless morning-dream ; With nectar loam their chalices, With joy the momenta teem. Aloft enthroned sits Jupiter, The Sire supreme, the Thunderer ; In anger wave his locks, And huge Olympus rocks. To earth he goes, his throne resignM ; Sighs, by charm of womankind, Like shepherd in the grove: Lo! at his feet tame thunders rest, Pfllow'd upon Leda's breasl Sleeps giant-conqueror Jove. Apollo in his glory rid Across tli' empyreal plain , The white Bun-steeds with golden rein Triumphantly he guidi 1-t'j 150 THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. The arrows of his silver bow Smite wretched mortals here below : But him let song and love enthral ; His glory Phoebus little heeds, The silver bow, the white sun-steeds, He gladly then forgets them all. Before Saturnia's haughty brow Th' Olympian Gods with reverence bow : Upon her state obsequious wait The rainbow-feather'd pair ; In either ear the triple gem, And blazing high the diadem On her ambrosial hair. Transcendant Queen, thy majesty How dareth Love to venture nigh ? Thou from thy proud and awful state, Great Empress, must descend, The heart-enchainer supplicate Her zone of grace to lend. * * * Happy are the Gods by Love, Men by Love like Gods are made, Heavenlier is Heaven above, Earth like Heaven in bliss array 'd. * Love beams \ipon the realm of night Old His knows well the potent spell » THE TRIUMPH OF l.o\ I That all his ragged rage disarms : The swarthy Hug looks soft delight, W ben Proserpine his bosom warms : Love beams upon the realm of night. Thy plaintive ditty, Bard of Thrace, In lowest depths of Tartarus Could lull the barking Cerberus : Minos, tears upon his fa Softens his decrees of woe ; To their shores with gentler pace Lethe and Cocytus flowj Her lash no more Megaera shakes, Upon her fury-brow the snakes Entwine in mild caress ; The pangs of Tityus have a pause, His heart not now the vulture gnaws . Th' enchantment all confess: I If Love thou sangest, Thracian Seer ; To thee the sullen Shades eave ear. Happj are the Gods by Love, M- it by Love like Gods are made. Eleavenlier is Heaven abo> Earth like I leaven in bliss array'd. 152 TriE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. I feel all Nature glow, I feel the flowers that blow The golden wing that waves divine : Did not from the sun on high, Did not from the moonlit sky Venus on me twinkling shine ; Did not from a starry sea The Goddess brightly smile on me ; Nor star nor moon nor sunny sky Had power my soul to move ; Tis Love alone, tis Love, Reflected smiles from Nature's eye. Love babbles in the silver rill, Love makes the fountain gently play, Love inspires a tender thrill Into Philomela's lay : On Nature's harp it is the breath Of Love alone that whispereth. Wisdom with thy sun-like face, Goddess proud, thou must give place, Thou must yield to Love : Tho' nor prince nor conqueror thee Force to bend the servile knee, Thou must stoop to Love. Who thro' skies with bold ascent Hero-like before thee went » ARCHIMEDES AND CHE BCHOLA.B. 1">:S To the Godhead's throne ? Rent the prison of the grave, Onto sight Elysium gave, Made its mysteries known ? Tis Love gives scope for blissful hope That we shall live for evermore : How coidd spirits else be bold To soar above this earthly mould ? Tis Love doth all created call Their beinar's Author to adore. Happy are the Gods by Love, Men by Love like Gods are made, Heavenlier is Heaven above, Earth like Heaven in bliss array'd. ARCHIMEDES AND THE SCHOLAB [SOHILLXR. A studious youth tin' tar of Archimedes sought : "Teach me the godlike Art that hath snob wonders wrought, The Art that hath achieved the safety of as all, And in confusion driven th' assailant from our wall." M J 54 AMELIA. " Godlike thou call'st the Art ? She is — " the Sage replied — " And was, my son, before the State her service tried. Wouldst thou from her the fruit that's borne by mortals too ? The Woman never heed; the Goddess only woo." AMELIA. [FROM THE ROBBERS OF SCHILLER.] Fair as an angel from the realms of day, The fairest flower of all our youth was he ; Celestial-mild his glance, like sun of May Eeflected by the bright-blue mirror-sea. His kiss ! It was a paradise to feel ! As when two flames in mutual clasp entwine ; As harptones one into another steal, Till all in blissful harmony combine : Spirit to spirit glowing melting flew, And lip and cheek with burning throbs came nigh ; Soul penetrated soul ; our frames all through Swam heaven and earth dissolv'd in ecstacy. But he is gone ! In vain, alas, in vain Moans after him the long-drawn aching sigh : Ah, he is gone ! To life no joys remain ; All is but one deep thought of agony. » roll! I \K AND WISDOM at Hii.i.rn. Dame Fortune unto Wisdom came, She'd quarrel'd with her pet ; " Friends let us be, and I," said she, " Your love will not forget. lit- wants to keep the present- 1 gave him. foolish lad, \nd says that I am stingy ; Now is it not too bad ? ( ome, Sister, put aside the plough ; To work you must be loth ; Your apron hold, and take this gold, Hi re'a plenty for us both." Dame Wisdom wiped her brovj ami smiled " There goes your minion, I'm hang him- run and savr the child — 'i .an gold 'a no use to me " \l 1 15G LONGING. [SCHILLER.] Here the valley shuts me in All by chilly clouds opprest : Could I but an outlet win, I should be supremely blest ! Beauteous hills I there descry * Ever green and ever young : Had I wings, and could I fly, I would be those hills among. Harmonies I hear, that ring Tones of heavenly sweet repose ; Balmy fragrance on the wing Comes of every wind that blows : Golden fruits around me shine, Winking thro' the foliage grey ; Bloom around me flowers divine, That shall ne'er be winter's prey. Oh ! how beautiful the sight, Sunshine ever clear to see ; And the air upon that height, How refreshing must it be ! » » TIIK CARD-CASTLE. 1 •") 7 But between us runs the stream, And so fast the waters roll, And so rough and stormful seem, That with terror shrinks my soul. Lo, a rocking boat is here ; But the ferryman there fails : Enter thou and never fear ! Animated are the sails ! Thou must venture and believe, From the Gods no pledge demand ; Only can a wonder give Entrance into Wonderland. THE CAED-CASTLE [gei.lf.kt. I A stripling with his pack of cards To build a castle tries, \nd BCarce can wail lor eagerness To see the building rise. The castle stands, and proud is he , But by a sudden shake The stories totter t<> and fro, \ud all asunder bri ak 158 THE OLD MAN. No gamester, when a luckless throw Had stripp'd him of his all, Look'd e'er so rueful as this child To see his building fall. But perseverance must succeed : Now straight resolveth he To build a dome that like the first But much more strong shall be. The table this time doth not shake, % The castle stands once more ; Tis all as neat as he could wish, And stronger than before. i & v Again and yet again he looks Till tiresome grows the view ; And then he knocks the castle down, To build it up anew. THE OLD MAN. [gelleut.] To sing I purpose of a grey old man, Who in this world did years a hundred dwell My muse shall be as faithful as she can ; Of what I saw, and what I know, I'll tell. » i:ii; l •:.(>!. ,\ riME. Poets, whom lofty genius bath inspired, Of statesmen, heroes, war: pe; Praise their high deeds, and praise till ye are tired : Theme of my song the grey old man shall he. Sing out, ray muse, to all posterity, Ilc;ir, all men living, wheresoe'er ye hide : This grey old man — mark well the tidings — he Was horn, and lived, and took a wife, and died. THE GOLDEN TIME. [rockert.] The golden time is not yet o'er, For it is ever young and new ; Of gold there is enough in store, Wire there enough desire in you. The golden stars at eve return, I never cease all night to ui That mortal man from them may learn The golden tune of golden Btring. us uj) from earth's full breasl th wine, 1'., \., . len bubbles w ink ; Winch ye, to make more golden shine, \i i. .1-1- from golden beakers drink. 160 THE WAKEK IN THE DESERT. Still wreaths itself in golden twine The lovely maiden's golden hair, And sparkle thro' its shade her eyn With flame of gold, a sunlike pair. In gloomy thought no more believe ; Your hearts for new enjoyment prime ; And haste from golden stuff to weave, Each for himself, a golden time. THE WAKER IN THE DESERT. [freiligkath.] A Lion by the Nile there stood, King of the desert, all alone, Bright-yellow as the sand he trod, As the Simoom that round him shone : A kingly mantle gorgeous The mane that o'er his neck was spread, A kingly crown conspicuous The crest that bristled on his head : He stood, and gave a dreadful roar, That echoed thro' the desert round ; The river-bank, the Red-sea shore, The swamps of Mccris heard the Bound : - * THE ffAKKR IN THE DESERT. 1(11 Stiffen'd the panther's tawny flank, And quivering fled the swift gazelle, Upon his knees the camel sank And listen'd to that wrathful yell : Those echoes rolling down the wave The Pyramid's deep silence broke ; The Mummy in his royal grave Shrivell'd and brown from slumber woke : He rises in the narrow chest : "Thanks, Lion, for that threatening roar ! For ages have I been at rest ; Thy voice arouses me once more! Long have I dreum'd ! Oh, where are ye, Splendour-girt years, when round me flew The sunb right flags of victor)', When lion-pairs my chariot drew ? The wheels with many a pearly star, The axle shone in golden pride ; Thebes welcoin'd the victorious car, Her hundred portals opening wide This foot, so weak and withrr'd now, The curled Moor and Libyan BDUXn'd ; Before my godlike state to bow The Arab and the Indian lrarn'd : 162 OUR MOTHER TONGUE. This arm could hold a world in sway, Tho' clasps it now the linen-band ; All that yon hieroglyphics say Was my conception, my command : This massy pile I rais'd to heaven, And girt with spearmen sat to view, As hither to their labours driven The masons flock'd, a myriad crew -. Broad Nile about my gilded prow, My subject then, to greet me rose ; The Nile, he doth for ever flow, Whilst I lie here in deep repose : And dark is all around and black S" Suddenly ceas'd the Lion's yell ; The dead man's eye grew heavy ; back He leant, and into slumber fell. OUR MOTHER TONGUE. [UHLAND.] The learned of our land, Her tongue who understand, With all their skill combine The structure to explore, And ever more and more To polish and refine. » # OUB MOTHKB IONG1 E. L6S While they out outward Bpeecb With all its beauties teach Expertly to unfold, ^ <■ men of I toman breed, Tis yOUTS by lite and deed [ta inward strength to mould : Tis yours to give the light, The purity, the might, Which hearts alone inspire, The full poetic glow, Prom which mankind may know Tis warm'd with heavenly tin- Let nothing Bhame you so As falsehood's guileful show . Still in the right be Btrong ; I. i honest rman truth Be planted in your youth With word- of < rerman ton Use ool your lip to prate In amorous debs Bui still in language dear Your dul 'its expn Vmir Bimpl 1 1 ustfulness, \nd earnest love sino n 164 THE MOUNTAIN SONG. Lisp not in courtly phrase, To soothe with empty praise The proud, the vain man's ear ; But speak in lofty strain, Like freemen who maintain The rights they hold most dear. And when our speech improved And all its faults removed Shall crown your great design, Ye ne'er shall speak, but they Who hear your words shall say, Ye breathe a voice divine. THE MOUNTAIN SONG. [UHLAND.J The mountain shepherd-boy am I ; The castles all below I spy ; Here first the sun doth pour his rays, And here with me he longest stays ; I am the mountain boy. » NIL Mill M'AIN SUM. L05 The cradle of the stream is here ; From stone I drink it fresh and clear ; It bounds o'er rocks with wild career ; Yet in my arms I clasp it here : 1 am the mountain boy. The mountain is my heritage : All round about the tempests rage ; From north and south come howling they ; Yet still above them sounds my lay : I am the mountain boy. Thunder and kghtning are beneath, While I the heaven's blue freshness breathe ; I know them, and I bid them cease, And leave my father's home in peace : I am the mountain boy. And when the loud alarums ring, And fires upon the mountain spring, Then down I go the ranks among, And swing my sword, and sing my song : I am the mountain boy. 186 THE SWORD. [korner.] Korner, the Tyrtaeus of Germany, was slain in a skirmish with the French near Rosenberg in 1813. During a halt, before the combat began, he wrote the lines of which the following is a translation. Swoed at my left side, why Dost thou shine so brilliantly ? It makes my spirit dance To see thy cheering glance. I'm here with a valiant knight ; Therefore I look so bright : A freeman is my lord ; That pleases well thy sword. Yes, good sword, I am free, And from my heart love thee ; As fond and true, I ween, As we betroth'd had been. To thee myself I give, The iron life I live. Would I was wedded now ! Thy bride when claspesl thou ' THE 8W0BD. 167 Our bridal mora shall come Announced by festive drum ; And when the cannons peal, Thou my embrace shalt feel. For that embrace I long With a passion fierce and strong ! My bridegroom, clasp thou me ! My garland waits for thee ! What means that iron clang? Loud in the sheath it rang : Twas a joyous battle-cry : .My sword, oh, tell me why ? Clatter the sheath well may : I am panting for the fray ! I would the fight be in ! Hence, knight, that iron din. My love, in thy chamber stay : Why need'st thou forth to stray? 1 et a little while be still : Embrace thee soon 1 will. To wait I cannot bear ' Oh, the Love-garden dear. Where blood-brighl roses blow . And death's roll bl >w ! 168 THE SWORD. Then quit the sheath ! My sight Thou feedest with delight ! Come forth, ray weapon, come, And find thy father-home. Oh, the glorious air ! And oh The lively bridal show ! The steel so bridelike seems ; Flash' d in the sun its beams ! Up, up, ye brave compeers ! Up, German cavaliers ! Whose heart is not yet warm, Let him take his love in arm. First on the left she took A sidelong stolen look ; But now in open light God joins her on the right. To your lips in close caress Her mouth of iron press ! Press warm ! and ill betide Him who forsakes his bride ! Now let the lov'd one sing, That sparks may flash and spring ! Dawns bridal morningtide : Hurrah for the iron bride ! » ENTHUSIASM vn riNB. I. when the bird of Jo? Had sciz'd the trembling Ganymede, (Jlinging to earth, the infant strove To shake him off in vain ; Grasp'd in his claws, with speed l'plifted from the plain, With his prey the eagle Hew, \nd deaf to all his cries Bore him to the skies, And at the feet of the immortals threw 11. Enthusiasm, thou fallest thus Upon my bou] victorious ■ The rustling of thy wings I h «r, I feel their dazzling light, \ml shuddering F fly foi fear, Lesl in the presence of thy mighl My mortal heart expire, \s wht 11 h\ thunderbolt illumed Burns urn itinguish'd fire, Till altar-pile and temp] noed N 170 ENTHUSIASM. III. In vain the body strives ; Soaring thought to madness drives ; The God my bosom fills, And swells, and bounds, and bears me hence; Thro' my veins the lightning thrills ; And when his dreadful influence I straggle to oppose, My genius, eager to be free, Breaks into floods of harmony, And lays me waste with its volcanic throes. IV. Muse, thy victim see ! No more that brow inspired, That look with madness fired, Whose rays were like divinity. By thy presence overpower'd, By thy rage devour' d, I sank ; and hardly now remains Trace of my youthful life ; my brow, All deadly pale, retains Nought but the vestige of the thunderblow. v. Happy the poet calm and mild : His harp with tears is never bath'd ; His bosom by no passion wild Or sudden fury scath'd : * ENTHUSIASM. 171 From his pure and fertile store Streams of milk and honey pour I a measure soft and musical : Ne'er did he, like Icarus, Mount on wing of Pindarus, To climb heaven's height, and down from heaven to fall. VI. But we, to kindle souls, must glow, And snatch tl\e triple flame from heaven . To us to paint, to feel is given The depths profound of joy and woe. Ye founts of light that ever blaze ! Of universal nature we Must concentrate the rays ! And are we happy ? Think it not : Tis our unchanging lot Of passion's fitful storm the prey to lje. VII. No ; never did the peaceful breast Conceive the godlike muse, Whose spirit soaring uiireprest With song the world subdues. The children of the lyre, who strike [ta chord with hand sublime, are like The stone o'er M< mnon'i tomb thai Bighs . To stir who.M im.il'i.- ^>und No inward power ia found ; The morning beams awake i' s melodies 172 THE RETURN. VIII. And snail I wake the fires once more, That smotker'd now in ashes sleep ? The remnant of my soul outpour In accents for the wind to sweep ? Glory, no more thy phantoms raise ? Thou hast cut short my thread of days, That nature for enjoyment wove : Shall I for meed of thine My last lifebreath resign ? I cherish it, that I may live to love. THE EETUEN. [lamartine.] Thou valley, where we lov'd so well, Thou brook, wherein my tears fast fell, Meadow, and hill, and wood profound, And birds, that sang these banks around ; Zephyr, whom her breath sweeter made ; And paths, beneath whose leafy shade Her arm so oft me fondly drew ; Eemembrance brings me back to you. » ALMOND-BOrCiH. L73 The happy time is gone ! My rye, For you round looking tearfully, This place, so charming once, again Asks for the past, but asks in vain The earth has still as fair a mien, The heaven is still as pure-serene : Ah ! now at length too late I see, It was not you I lov'd ; twas she. THE ALMOND-BOUGH I \M M.i : BLOSSOM-shedding almond-bough. Emblem art of beauty thou : Like thee, the flower of life was in i Ere summer-time to bloom and fade. Let alone or gather it ; is the flower it.- place must quit, Escaping leaf by leaf aw E'en as our pleasure b day by day. Taste these pleasures while ye Leave them not the zephyr's prej ; Bui ipmiT the cap, whose rich perfunn Quirk scatters to the wind its bloom. 174 MEMORY. Beauty sparkles for an hour, Often like a morning flower, That, twined to grace the feaster's head. Before the feast begins, is dead. One day comes, another flees, Spring returns and vanishes ; The flowers that fall in falling say, Haste to enjoy us, while ye may. Since they all must perish then, Since they ne'er return agen, Let love the roses kiss, till they Under his warm lips fade away. MEMORY [lamartine.] Day follows day ; the hours they move Sdently on, and leave no trace ; But thee, my last fond dream of love, Nought from my soid can e'er efface. I see the years still passing by Accumulate behind me fast, As sees the oak around him lie His leaves down-shaken by the blast. » MEMORY. 175 vlv Ltrow by time is whiten'd o'er, My blood is chill'd, and scarcely flows, Like as the stream, that runs no more, When icy breath of winter blow-. Bat still thine image young and bright, And brighter now than ever, glows ; And still is present to my 6ight, For, like the soul, no age it knows. Thou never hast been lost to me : When thou from hence wert sudden gone, 1 ceas'd on earth thy form to see, But look'd to heaven, and there it shone ; And still the same appear'd to view, As on that ne'er forgotten day, W Inn to her heavenly mansion flew Thy Bpirit with the morn away. Thv beauty's pun- and touching ray Follow'd thee to the realm on high ; Thine eyes, where life extinguish'd lay, Beam now with immortality. The shade, that partly reila thy Bight, Gives thee a milder, softer mien ; \ when tin- blush of morning light Emerging thru' the m i a 176 MEMORY, The sun returns at morning-break. At evening-close again he iiies : But me thou never canst forsake, Thy love in darkness never lies. Thee I behold, and thee I hear, In stormy cloud, in sunny glows ; Thy voice to me the zephyrs bear, The silver stream thine image shows. If, while the earth is slumbering, 1 The night-wind murmurs in mine ear, I think I hear thee whispering The accents to my heart so dear. And when with lires the starry host Have spangled o'er the night's deep blue, Methinks, in every orb, that most With wonder fills me, thee I view. And wafted by the gentle breeze When flowery sweets my sense regale In their most balmy fragrancies It seems thy breath that I inhale. It is thy hand that dries my cheek, When solitary prest with care The altar of my God I seek, And find relief in secret prayer. » » MKMOHY. 177 My pillow'd sleep thou visitest ; Thy guardian wing around is spread ; From thee the dreams, that soothe my rest, With aspect angel-mild are shed. [f in my Ble tp thy Ulnnd benign From mortal bonds could set me fri Then, my soul's best half divine, Waked in thy bosom I should be. As when two rays together meet, Two melting sighs in one combine, A l)!!«sful future Bhall complete The union of my soul with thine. 178 ODE TO NAPOLEON. [manzoni.] (II cinque Maggio.) This poem has been translated also by Goethe, in a metre not unlike the following. The beauty of the original depends so much on its simplicity, that I judged it hazardous to attempt any other than a literal and rhymeless version. He vva3 ; and as immoveable, After the mortal sigh, The carcase lay, inanimate, Of the great spirit reft, So struck in mute astonishment Earth at the message stands : Yea, mute, and thinking of the last Hour of the fatal man : Nor knoweth she, when any like Stamp of a mortal foot Her bloody-stained dust will see Imprint itself again. Him lightning on his throne my Muse Beheld, and silent was ; Whde he in quick vicissitude » ODE TO NAPOLln.V 1 79 Fell, rose, and prostrate lav. Amid a thousand voices' sound She mingled not her own. l'rom servile flattery virgin-pure And outrage cowardly, Rous'd by the sudden vanishing Of such a dazzling ray, She pours around his urn a song That haply will not die. Prom Ylp-rocks to the Pyramid, iV mi Mansanar to Rhine, 11 in thunderbolt its course secure Behind the lightning kept, l-'rom Scylla flew to Tanais, From one to th' other sea. True glory was it ? The unborn Alone can this decide. Let us to the Almighty bow, To God, who chose iu him Of the creative power di\ ine A I race more vast to leave. The Btormfo] and the trembling jo) or mighty enterprise s The BnxioUB heart untaiiiealili , 180 ODE TO NAPOLEON. That burn'd to gain a throne, And gain'd it, won a prize, that erst Madness it were to hope : All that he proved : the glory by The danger more enhanced ; Plight, victory ; the palace now, And now the exile's pang ; Twice in the dust laid low, and twice Upon the altar rais'd. He named himself; two ages, one Against the other arm'd, To him submissive turn'd themselves, As waiting fate's decree ; He order'd silence, and between Their arbiter he sat. He vanish'd, his inactive days Closed in a narrow space, Of boundless envy still the mark, And of compassion deep, Of inextinguishable hate, And of unconquer'd love. As o'er a shipwreck'd mariner The wave sore-pressing rolls, The wave, on which th' unhappj one » • oDi ro vAi'i'i > on. 1 s l Hath long been tost, li i — eye Around far stretching to discern Some distant shore in vain : So upon this man's soul the heap Of memories rolling came. How often to posterity IIh life-tale he to tell Began ; but on th' eternal page His hand fell weary down ! How many times upon the calm Close of an idle day, The lightning rays declined, his arms Folded upon his breast, He stood; and of the days that were Remembrance o'er him rush'd. He thought upon the moving tents, The stricken rampart-walls, The glittering of the maniples, The waves of cavalrj . I in- tierce Lmp< tuous command, And -uit'i obedience. Ali ! At th, torturing though! pi rhai His spirit breath! a Bank ; And he d( Bpair'd , but then thi re came 182 ODE TO NAPOLEON. A powerful hand from heaven, And to a purer atmosphere Him mercifully bore ; And by her flowery paths of hope To the eternal fields Conducted him, to a reward Surpassing his desires, Where all the glories of the past As night and silence are. Beauteous, immortal, bountiful, Faith ever triumphing, Be written also this : rejoice, That a more haughty pride To the disgrace of Golgotha Did never bend before. Thou from his weary ashes keep All bitter words away : The Lord who smites and raises up, Afflicteth and consoles, Was near him on his couch forlorn Ere the last breath he drew. » » 183 SONNET TO LAUEA [FROM rETRAII' II. The Laura of Petrarch was not an ideal person, as Borne of his admirera have maintained, but a real lal -1 - II VI.U8. ] exiled Prince Polynices, assisted by Adrastns, Kic \. - md other chieftains, 1 to the City of Thebes. \ cho I liebao virgins, terrified at the approaching assault, pray to the Gods for deliverance. The horrors of ireibly described Mv heart caiinot rest ; the beaiegi re are near ; ry thought, every instant redoubles my f( u Alas for my country, my home ! trembles the dove for her tender nest, serpent enter, a baneful gu< st : Ah ' what will of Thebes beconn The war no longer it slumbers ; The terrible foes around us close, Bold in the might of their numbers: Hark ! again and again t )u roof and on lower a stony show, r The stingers are pouring amain : "i e Powers above, ye children of Jove, Deliver our raoi ' For what fairer plfl \\ ould ye quit Cadmean Th( bi And the rich Boaotian . Will ye abandon to the foe < »ur Diroe's hoi) spriii Swe< teal of nil the stn am* that flo* , Purest of all thai < taean' K 186 THE SIEGE OF THEBES. From his depths hath sent for our nourishment ? Ye Guardian Gods, to those without Panic send and rout, And the glory be yours for ever ! Hear our cry piteous, Listen and stay with us, Never desert us, oh never ! Twere shame to let the Achaean seize A city of old Ogyges, To give her to the sword a prey, Her honor in the dust to lay : * Foul shame it were, For women to be captive bome, Young and old, their garments torn, Dragg'd like horses by the hair ! Woe to the God-forsaken, In the toils of destruction taken ! A many-tongued crowd, They cry to heaven aloud : The virgin fondly cherish 'd Is torn from her parents away, Never to see her nuptial day ; Twere a happier doom to have perish'd ! Sad and fearful is the scene, When a city storm'd hath been : A medley of ruin and smoke and glare, Of burning and slaughter, Blood flowing like water, The conquerors joy and the captive's despair : * THE SIEGE OF THEBES. I s - Mars the battle-demon raging, tiering death with his impious breath, God nor man his wrath assuaging • \t the walls, in the town, all is tumult up and down. The shrieks of the flying, the groans of the dying, Ladders for scaling, and towers assailing, The mother all wild with her infant child oear'd with gore and wailing ; Soldiers in haste to sack and lay waste ; Now the plunder-laden meet, Pass the word from street to street ; Now the empty-handed cry One to another, " Come my brother, Share my toil, share the spoil, Reap the fruits of victory !" What deeds are done, can be told by noiu Karth's richest fruits are scatter'd in heaps ; And the old domestic weeps For his master cast from his high estate, And ill his hopes laid desolate : The young handmaiden, new to grief, By the victor forth is led, To grace his triumph, share his bed V wr shall she find relief, Till the last night shall bring [ta welcome tide, to drown hi r Bufferii oS 188 HEECULES AND ACHELOUS. [FROM THE TRACUIM.E OF SOPHOCLES.] Hercules and the River-god Achelous enter the lists, as suitors of the beautiful Princess Deianira, whose hand her father has promised to the most valiant. Hercules carries off the prize. The River-god, who had assumed the form of a bull, retires with broken horn into his bed of waters. Venus ever gains the day, Countless triumphs bears away : Who hath heard not of her subtle wiles ? How she her Sire and the Stygian King And the earth-shaker Neptune beguiles ? Their loves are too lofty for me to sing : But I can tell of a tale as true, Of a Princess fair, whom a stalwart pair Of suitors came to woo : High was their courage and fierce their pride ; They fought for their life in a medley strife To win the lovely bride. One Avas the God of a raging flood, From Epirot vales he came ; Like a bull he appear'd, and his horns he rear'd ; Achelous was his name : The other had spear and martial gear, His bow that rang with a dreadful twang, HERCULES AND A< III I "1 - 1 B9 And the club that he BWUDg in ire ; On Thebao earth was the Hero's birth, H iruiu> was bis sire. Tiny met on the plain, tbisc champions twain. Then to the fight they rush'd with might, Stung with love and rivalry . Wnilsl Venus, heavenly queen, Stood arbitress between. To give the meed of victory. Twas fearful and new that scene to view ; There was pushing of horn and rattle of bow, Crashing of hand and forehead-blow, Their strokes were fasl and strong ; Again and again they grappled with pain, Their groans were deep and long. The maiden away from the dire affray Sat on a hill alone ; W ith eyes full of tears, and heart of fears, She wi pi for hi t fate unknown ; 1 or the \ Lctor's prize she m'd to be ; lt.ll the tale as twas told to me. 5 :, like a youngling of the hi rd forlorn, She from her mother and her home wu, boiUC. 190 HARMODIUS AND ARISTOGITON. The pair of friends, whose names have become illustrious as the restorers of Athenian liberty, were first stimulated to their bold act by motives of private revenge. Having been affronted by Hipparchus, .brother of Hippias the tyrant, they engaged in a conspiracy to assassinate both the brothers and put down the government. They chose for the execution of their design the morning of the great procession at the Panathensea, when all the citizens were allowed to assemble in arms. Their o^n poniards they concealed in boughs of myrtle. The main plot, owing to an error, miscarried. They killed Hipparchus, but perished themselves. Hippias continued to reign for three years ; but his severities rendered him universally odious, and at length he was expelled. Harmodius and Aristogiton, having struck the first blow for freedom, were regarded by the Athenians as their liberators. Statues and other honours were decreed to their memory. The drinking- song, of which the following is a translation, was com- posed a century after the event by one Callistratus. In myrtle I shade my falchion-blade, Like Aristogiton of old And his patriot comrade bold, When they made the tyrant bleed And Athens from thraldom freed. Harmodius, our pride, thou hast not died ! In the islands of the blest, In eternal peace and rest, EPITAPH. I !U With Achilles and Tydeus* son Thou dwellest, beloved one ! With myrtle 1 shade my falchion-blade. Like Aristogiton of old And his patriot comrade bold, When Athene's day beheld How the tyrant's might they quell'd. llarmodius, lays of your country's praise For a crown of glory shall be To Aristogiton and t lice ; For ye made the tyrant bleed, And Athens from thraldom freed. EPITAPH OH I'HK ATHENIANS WHO FKLL AT (II I KuM'.\ This i> quoted by De sthenee in his Oratioo on the Crown. The brave who fell fighting for their country were not the less deserving "t honor because the battle was lost, li is glorious to struggle in ag L cause, whether yon Bucceed i CONSTANTINOPLE. 197 It Turca, lati et fimeria appetens, Muros adortus, pronus el in caput Devolvitur acalis, feroque Labia quatil moribnnda risu : Supra cadentem lit sociis via, Omnique parte in moenia curritur: ssas inundantes cruore Jam videas; fnrit ante portaa Virtute praestans Othmanidum globus , Etobosta saevifl quassa bipennibua Saxique non unius ictu Claustra tremunt ; pluit imbre circum Ferrique et i'_ r iiis, virque simul viro Et tela tdis acritex involant . Ilos ira dedignata vino, llos domus et sua quemque conjux, Nati, parent - 1 1 patriae solum re fortes, ipsa pericula Bortantur extremumque fati Eh timoi exuperana timorem Utrinqne iliri- condil ionibua Pugnatux aroea imposuit fretie < Ibsestor aodax, oornqne t In patriam populumque flnotua 198 THE TAKING OF CONSTANTINOPLE. Jurat, nefandum ! Quis quatit aethera Longe atque late se repetens fragor ? An fiilmen e coelo caducum Intonuit ? Cadit alta plaga, Disjecta turns, culmiua moen ium Et celsa propugnacula corruunt, Interque fumantes ruinas Sanguiueo stetit ense Turca : Cessere muris agmina civium, Quos turba passim praecipites agit Immitis instans : deinde longas Per plateas et in urbe tota Concursus atrox, et fuga prselio Commista, clamorque et gemitus simul Cantusque discors tympanorum Funeribus miseroque planctu ; Metusque tectis et muliebria Lamenta, cum vis impia proruat Quodcunque pulchri, cunque cari, In thalamos penetrabumque Sanctos recessus omnia polluens Invadat : infans sub pede ferreo Calcatur, et passis ab ara Kapta comis trahitur sacerdos, THE TAKING OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 199 Faedaque miles capde Buperbiena Palatiorurn vast a per atria Grassatur, incestusque victor Caesarea dorainatur aulA. At ille quo se proripuit ? quibus Abdit latebrisf quern modo foeminia Praeesse, et iu molli juvabat Purpumun recubare lecto, Interque cant us et cithara? modos Mersare blanda pectus inertia, Sceptriquc regalisque curse Immeinorem ? Dapibus vacate Non horu nunc est. Exiit, cxiit : Turbatus altis e siluis leo Ut saepe venantum catenas Terruit in medios rucndo ; l'nrclara tandem dignaque principe Ausurus ibat. Qua? re ubi fortibus Certamen Bxarail Bupremum, < i Btrage rabet ciuuulata tellua : lllir, obi ultoi on patriae Deua Btabal rerulgens sanguine barbaro, [psiua extruotum videbii Elnse Pala pulchrum. 200 THE POWEE OE LOVE .4s exemplified in the case of Ilcemon and Antigone. [FROM THE ANTIGONE OF SOPHOCLES.] Invicte bello Dive cupidinum, Qui pungis oestro fervidus ingruens Armenta, qui molli puellse Excubias agis in labello ; > Pontumque transis, lustraque devia Intras ferarum, et vulnere percutis Divosque mortalesque turbas In furias acuens et ignem : Et ssepe mentes tu prius integras Injuriosum proripis ad scelus : Jam dira te suadente rixa Distinet a genitore natum ; Vicit cupido virginis Hremona ; Nam vi paterna fortior est Amor, Contraque fas et jura Cypris Fraude valet facilique liulo. 201 HER* l LE8 \M> \< BELOl 9 M I HE l B v HIM i 01 SOPHOl s Mi has report at Cypris adori Ubique victrix. 1 laud opus est Deum i lantare flammas ; qua" Tonant< 3tygium domet arte B Vel te, tridenti qui marc concutis. \t Dejanirse aon humiles i>roei Venere flagrante amore, el I.' thifene genus omne pug ( iommiscuerunt. Hie fluvii g< nus, raurique tollens cornigerum capul Eteliquit /Etolos receasua Kt propriaa A.chelous undas \i slli- Thebis • I Bemeleifi tela valentioi Vibrare aodosamque clavam Ki rigidum, .love oatus, arcum. Quos i L r it acres in fera praalia \'\ in ; . h i cupido, dura lio ng ■• i ( lonsedil aspectura litem Causa Venus pariterque judex 202 iEGISTHUS AND CLYTEMNESTRA. Turn cornuum vis, tunc manuum simul Strepebat ingens, et fragor arcuum, Et frontium ictus et palaestrae Et vehemens utriusque planctus. At pulclira moerens in tumulo procul Virgo sedebat, conjugium manens, Cui fata servassent marito Sanguinei pretium duelli : Fluxitque molles lachryma per genas : At mox relictae more juvenculae Repente maternis ab ulnis Et patrio procul ibat agro. ^EGISTHUS AND CLYTEMNESTRA. [FROM THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES.] Aut me vaticinans ludit inanibus Mens caeca auguriis, aut veniet brevi Oppressura nocentes Vindex Justitiae manus. Spes audita novas somnia concitant: Haud rex est Danaum sanguinis iminemor ; Haud extincta bipennis, Hunc qui faucibus sereis » -fill AND CLYTEMNESTKV 203 Occidit laniana immiserabilem Jam nunc centimanum centipedem Deam Justum (empus Erynniu EEgreaaam i n -i« i i i - vocal I'ar infarae ruens pes vctituni et nefaa Fasdataa iniit sanguine nuptias •. Credo, non levis ira Tantoruni scderuin reos Portentis monnit. Nulla fides Deiim Responsis dabitur, nulluqne somniis, I hue miracula uoctis Ni frnctus habeant bonos. Eheu quadrijugis clarus equis Pelops, Et victoria certaminiB nrdui, Quantis ilia PeLasgtim \tlli\it patriam malia ' Namque at ouiricolo jactoa afa av Praoepa in pelagoa Ifyrtilua occidit, lluic Lncumbere terrae \ onquam triatia dasinanl 204 PARIS AND HELEN. [FROM THE AGAMEMNON OF JESCI1YLUS.J Ergo nefandas jungere nuptias Ultrix Erinnys perpulit Ilium, Nee rector insultare Divum Hospitio sociseque mensae Impune turpem passus adulterum. Fatalis hymen Troibus ingruit ; Eatale oognati sinistris Ominibus cecinere carmen. Jam vse Lacaenae ! vae Paridis toro ! Hanc urbs querelam connubialibus Mutavit hymnis ; hoc suoruin Clade gemit madefacta tellus. Est qui feroci matris ab ubere Eaptum leonem nutriit in domo : Mansuetus apparebat ille, Et senibus puerisque carus, Infantis instar, saepe foventium Ludens in ulnis, saepius appetens Paacique tractariquo palma, et Blanditiis dominum salutans ; » * PARIS AND HELEN. Douce paternam prodidit indolem Firmatus annia ; tunc in ovilia Pastoria oblitumquc curse 9 v,i dapia rapuit cupido ; Turn cede luctuqut- it brepido metu Turbavit eedes : sic voluit Deus j Crudelia ut lethi sacerdos Cresceret in genua ac penates. ^imiUque Trunin ad Limine principuin \ [sua aereni apiritns Betheria \ i □ m , mordax flos amoris, Duloe ill cub locupletis aul Prseatana figuxft, Luminibua potena Mollissiiuanun tela rupidinum Torquere : uec pestia paternse :n fore! exitioaa terrae, lere front i L r '-ns male credula ; 1 uuptiarum tli bilis i-xitus < Istendit, < t tracti mind PriamidflB Priamique regnum. 206 HYMN TO ADVERSITY. [from gray.] » qUjE Tonantis filia perdomas Mortale pectus, quae Dea ferreo Terres scelestorum catervas, Percutis immeritos flabello ; Tu ferre poena? suppliciura doces Vinclo superbos dans adamantino ; Affligit in terram gementes Purpureos tua vis tyrannos, Tu, dia Virtus cum foret inferis Mittenda terris, sic voluit Pater, Tujussa dilectam fovere Progeniem, rigidoque cultu Mentem tenellam fingere. Tristia Te, torva nutrix, auspice pertulit, Suisque volventes per annos Docta malis aliena flevit. Tu quum minaris, Stultitise cohors Vanescit omnis ; diffugiunt leves Risusque clamorque et tumultus, Seria quo vacui sequamur : » ll\MN TO AllVI.HMll. 807 Turn ditiora ad limina transvolanl Falsi clientes, in nova pignora Jurare non segues, novosque Pallere blanditns patronos : At sancta nee mortalia eogitans, I'wllata virgo, te Sapicntia Sectatur, ;ic terras petente Tristitics taciturna vultn, Cimctisque ridens alma Benignitas, Seque ipsa culpans Justitia, et piuiu Clemcntia huraectans ocellum Lachrymulis teneroquc run. Nu men verendum ! noe taa corrigat Imposta leni consilio manus : Ne plena terrorum propinques, Dira tuens furiisque cincta, Qualem i Lderi mos tuus impiia : tonanb a unl procul et mix Morbique dementesque luctus, Efedaqne pauperies, et horroi l rale fr( adens. Quin potitu, D« a, Vuliu Bereno mitioi adveni ; itunque non lastura pectus, - .1 oimioa domitura fastus, 208 SONG OF THE ISRAELITES. Hue se bonarum gens ferat artium : Sic nosse meipsum, nosse alios queam ; Sic lenem in errantes aniicos Praestem animum, mihi durns uni. SONG OF THE ISRAELITES. [from milman.] Regum Rex, dominis altior omnibiFs ! Mdem, sancte Parens, aggredimur tuam : En ut moesta caterva Defessos trahimus pedes, Et vix in numerum cymbala concinunt : iEdem, sancte Parens, aggredimur tuam Infelicibus ilia Pacemque et requiem dabit. Ad te, sicut aves vulnere saucise, Tristes per tenebras fugimus aeris : Mitem porriget umbram Alae praesidium tuae. En quae palmitibus vestiit uvidis Colles Isacidum, sub pede barbaro Vitem proterit hostis : Et nos saevus aper petit, » SOMi 01 l 1:1 I-KAKI.ITES. 209 Qui frona ultima, qui pars nridissima ELamorum rurmus, nee sine gratia Aui'ti in colle Sionia Borem oombibimus Bacrum. At non sancte tuoa destil m a Pater : Per miracula, per multaque magnaqne Juro, quae tua nostria Eft'ecit proavis manus ! Per rubnun pelagua, qua male concitn- Currus armaque Busiridis efferi Ingens inque omenta Clades fluctibus obruit ! Nostris ante oculos pontus erat maris, A tergo ferns .lEgyptius insequens : V'ili stratus in alga Exspes et miser Israel, riiiili'iis ad Dominum suppliciter manus, [mplorabal opem : t'»llit ad sethera Virgae insigne Propheta, Enrique auxilium vocat : illc ortus subito namine dividil Undarum eumulos, ut quasi ritreue Stan t mum- utrinque, Strati per medium \ tl 210 SONG OF THE ISRAELITES. Aut extructa freto mcenia crederes Urbis marmoreae : Sol iter avium Lustrat lumine mirans Caecarumque cubilia Gazarum et nitidos coralio specus : Regum Rex, dominis altior omnibus ! Patrum carmen abyssi Rumpit longa silentia. Vexillisque micans instat et arcubus iEgyptus ; strepuit quadrupedantium Pulsu campus equorum, Arserunt volucres rota? ; Stipatusque globo dira minantium Rex ibat medius : quos Pater setheris Despectabat ab arce, Ut sicci in gremiuni maris Egit se graviter tota acies ruens : Extemplo tumidorum ardua fluctuum Moles prsecipitavit, Horrendus tonuit fragor Collabentis aquse, se super agmina Volventis, super arma et pavidos duces Regalemque coronam . At cum turbida poneret I lit GREY OLD MAN. '-.' 1 1 3i Be diluvifs, omnia sederunt Plumbi more simul mersa sub Bsquore, Ni i' planrtus neque clamoi Auditufi pen uiitium. Turmas mane viriun Sol ibi fulgil la- Lust ravit radiis ; at medio die Latara prseter arenam l'ulsatam pelago nihil. THE (JREY OLD MAN. i BOH QBU .iKT. ] See ante, pay 158. Canum dicere me carminibus, qui generi suo Centenas hyemes intererat, fert animus senem. \ ates fidua ero, quseque jubet dicerc Veritas, Ipsi nota milii risaque, nil pnvterea loquar. Vos, quorum ingenue imperitant Pieridea Dea?, Heroasque dueesqiu H rclrbrum nomina principum, Donee tessi rritis, perpetuis tollite laudibui At nobis canere bunc albioomum sufficiet Benem. Cantua iucdpe; tu magna ••ana--, v<>\ mea poateri AiisculttTit hominum terrioolum quotquol abique sunt. ci oontigii buic (A superia luminibuB fmi, Ad-ci\ii thalamo oonjngium, aummum obiii diem. 212 THE CARD-CASTLE. [from gellert.] See ante, page 157. Castella cartis parvus adolescentulus Luclo Iaborans constniit, Spectatque votis tardius surgentia, Et ferre vix potest moram. Stat celsa turris, et sibi plaudit puer ; Heu plausus ille perbrevis ; Nam mensa subito quatitur, ex alto ruunt Tabulata dilabentia. Haud cujus omnes alefi pecunias Damnosus abstulit earns, Sic angit ora mceror, ut tristi vice Torquentur ora parvuli. At cuncta vincit pervioax constantia : Orditur ille protinus Alterius apparare fabricam domiis, Quae stet priori firmior. Nee spes fefellit : mensa jam firmo pede Arcem renatam sustinet ; Compacta cernit architectus omnia, Volique sese compotem. THE ROSE'S MiMil ~v g \ ;>, Bis terque totum Lustrat admirans opus, Satiatque sc spectacolo ; .^I"x ipse demolitux eedium struem, Ut rursus instauret novas THE ROSE'S ADDKESS. Septula nunc annia teritux volventibua seal Ex quo nata die parvula gemma i'ui : Tempore rautamur : nisi me mea lallit imago, Panditur in aitidam parvula gemma rosam Mensis crat claro sub sidere Junius ardeiis, Affulsit tenebris lux ul)i prima meia Huue mihi natalem semper voluere pari Esse sacrum ludo Laetitiaeque diem ; Et celebrent ut riie, jubent de fl' rum Nectere virgin* ria Berta come, taxnen at fastu mea frona decoretui inani, Ilia niti.t facili texta corolla laaini Ploa novua inscritnr, qi rvua advenil annus, Ut moneai celeri auam volet bora fugtl i tendumque BBtate brevi ; nil corporis auotu, Nacta bonaa artea mens nisi on seat, b 214 THE CONFESSION. When Damon to his Lesbia sigh'd And vow'd that he adored her, He took the hand she half denied, And kneeling he implored her : Her eyes the maiden downward cast, Her hand in Damon's trembled* And on the youth a look there pass'd That ill her thoughts dissembled : Deep glow'd the blueh upon her cheek That still more lovely made her, And tho' her tongue refused to speak, Cheek, hand, and eye betray'd her. THE SAME. Mollia suspirans Celadon in Chloridis aurem Edidit ingenuus qualia suasit amor ; Assumpsitque manum quam pene negaverat ilia, Inftexoque genu fudit ab ora preces. » THE GOLDLN IIMS. 215 Chloris humi timidos tacite deraittit ocellos, Inque manu tremor est liaud fugiente premi ; At rapido prius intuitu respexit amantem ; 111c parum vultus dissimulautis erat. Tinxit et ora rubor, qualis solet esse rosarum, Fervida cum teneros explicat aura sinus : Ergo ea virgineo puduit qua? voce fateri Prodidcrant juveni lumina, pahna, genae. THE GOLDEN TIME. [FROM RLCKERT.J See ante, page 159. Ne fugisse putes aurea sarula, Nam semper nova sunt atque recentia , Auri copia mortalibus aflluit, 1 11 is si superest amor. Ccclum aocte tenent aurea aiders Et sublime canuut BBtheream melos, Humanum undc genua concitel aureum Aurat;r BOnitum l\r;r. 216 THE GOLDEN TIME. Terrae dulce merum spumat ab ubere, Nictant aureolis flumina biillulis, Quae conviva, micent ut magis aureum, Aureis e cyatbis bibit. Nodo se religat suaviter aureo Pulcbrae caesaries aurea virginis, Et subter radians ex oculis micat Auri fulgor amabilis. Curis vos igitur solvite tristibus,^ Maturaeque animos laetitiae date : Aurea quisque sibi materia paret Usum temporis aurei. » » P E M S , nv TIIK LATK RKV. RANN KKXXEDY » I> E M OV I'MK DEA III OF CHARLOTTE PBINCES8 OF WALES L817 Charlotte, Prim-ess of Walt-, daughter of George IV, ami heir apparent to the crown, died in ch£d-birth in the year 1817. Thefolk ing poem was written immediately aftei the sa«l event, ami was, on the part of the author, a sincere tribute of loyal homage t.> her memo Man; are yet old enough t.i remember, others will have Learned from history, the profound grief which penetrated tin- heart of the British nation upon the di ath of that amiable Prii as. There were more than ordinary causes tin' the Borrow which was then so deeply fell and bo loudly expressed. Tin- virtues ■ >)' the IVim-ess herself, which had endeared her to the people, and which were the more prized from their contrast with the rices of the reigning monarch the general sympath) lor her unfortunate and persecuted mother— the uncertainty about the succession ; for our present gracious Qi n was not then boi a - all t f circumstanced caused the loss, which the country had sustained, <•> appeal at the tine- a great national calamity ; and that loj n late !l own'd a Paradise pf nuptial bliss, Feels nil the love thai warm'd his bosom there 222 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. Increas'd each moment by the maddening thought That it is shared and can be shared no more ; That she, o'er whom he bends, who loved him best Of all on earth, and as a shape of Heaven Before him spake and smiled, is senseless clay ; That, when most prizing her he would have shamed His tenderest ways by ways more tender still, She knows it not, and never shall again Return affection's pressure with the hand Design'd to wield a sceptre, that dear hand, Which gave him with itself a noble heart That all earth's sceptres would have cheaply bought. With step inaudible and ghastly cheek Imagination from such scenes retires, While speechless Pity beckons her away, And upward looks to that all-seeing Power Who, as He made it, can alone restore Peace to the troubled world within the breast, Where thoughts, when rous'd by keen affliction's storm, Are often rapid as the lightning's flash, Revealing and enhancing dreariness, Or they are black as night, than winds more wild, And multitudinous as ocean-waves. Such grief be sacred, wheresoe'er it racks A kindred bosom : but, my countrymen, The grief that I would now unload is mine, Is yours, the common grief of all the realm. THE PEINCES8 CHARLOTTE. Tis look'd from eye to eye, from tongue to tongue Tis echoed ; oft it gushes forth in tears ; Oft with maternal fondness 'tis beguiled By its own prated tale ; or labouring speech Is choked, and dies in long convulsive sobs : Nature, a- Fashion, now to feeling gives One character, to dress one sable hue, Poor outward emblem of our country's heart, Whose emanations so infect the time, That grief becomes an element we breathe. Some muse in lone dejection ; more in groups. Round hearths, in streets, in lanes, are comforted By talk and mutual gaze, unconsciously Seeking in others to forget themselves : Now form and ceremony unawares Lose half their stiffness ; greetings now are made (From secret sense of fellowship in woe) With kinder accent and a wanner grasp. Labour and busy art now pause to sigh ; A nation's loss suspends the keen pursuit Of private gain ; and Pleasure's cup is pass'd Neglect iugly, uncourted by the lip. The witching pipe of Mirth is thrown aside, Useless, for all have left her wonted haunt Dishevell'd Beaut} -it- in pensive guise. And hath no smile to point ; her fairesl wreaths And coatliesl ornaments discarded lie. A shade from elder seriousness i- oasl O'er youth's Bnfurrow'd brow E'en boyi awhile 224 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. Desist from play, or follow their blithe bent As in the presence of surrounding gloom : Our sorrow's theme hath such contagious spread, That oft th' unweeting infant lisps a word At which the mother's bosom bleeds afresh, And on the prattler's lips her tearful spouse Prints stifling kisses, feeling that the stroke, By which our parent land is agonized, Too bitterly endears his happier lot. For she, our recent joy, hath turn'd us all To mourners, as for one of nearest kin ; So by her virtues was the reverence due To princely station kindled into love. On one side of her Father's ruling power, Reclined on trophies gain'd from foes abroad, Slept War, with sheathed sword upon the ground ; On th' other side, that Father's second self, She, as an Angel in the robe of Peace, By her mere presence there was every hour In still retirement conquering hearts at home. Through each gradation, from the castled hall, The city dome, the villa crown'd with shade, But chief from modest mansions numberless In town or hamlet sheltering middle life, Down to the cottaged vale and straw-roof d shed, Our Ys estern Isle hath long been famed for scenes Where Bliss domestic finds a dwelling place; Domestic Bliss, that, like a harmless dove, » I III. 1MMM ESS ( II A K I 01 22! Honor and udearmenl keeping guard, ( 'an centre in a little qui Ul that D for thro' the earth ; Thai can, the world eluding, be it- A world enjoy'd. j that want? no witnes Hut it- own Bharers and approving Heaven; That, like a flower deep hid in rocky cleft, Smiles, tb nigh 'tis Looking only at the Bky ; Or, if it dwell where cultur'd Grandeur sbJ And that which gives il being, high and bright, Allures all eyes, yet it- delight is drawn Prom its own attributes and powers of growth, Affections fair that lil issom on it- -trni, Kissing each other, and from cherish'd hope of lovely shoots to multiply itself. Sucli !: a feet And vir 'i in j caus ly ^ oman knew ; Whom, as our Bril den's blooming pride, Deal -' bath oipp'd, destroying flower and -talk. When not one living '_ r "nn hail met th( daj : Jfet bj our love bi r m m >r) embaln 111 it- own fl|>ie_\ odour? 'all die. she lived for as bj setting i where most riew'd h in )-t attracted admiration's gaze) Pattern of that which i social life It- charm, and form ■ pdom's moral strength : 226 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. She lived for us by piety to God, Which taught her how to love her brother Man, Befriending wretchedness, as meant to be A people's nursing mother. Privacy By virtuous action train' d her for a sphere Of boundless good. Thus in some woodland scene A spring with murmurs musical imparts Freshness and verdure to the banks around, As though it spake of mightier coming joy In wealth of waters roll'd throughout a land. She lived for us, by learning in the W^ife Things most befitting for a destin'd Queen, And how to feel for an espoused realm. She lived for us by many a token shown Of properties and habits, suited well To the free genius of our British state ; A spirit cpiick to feel, and firm to guard Her dignity and due ; yet wisdom just, In her own rights to mark and venerate ours ; To keep in view the source and end of power, Whose noblest use is blessing what it rides ; To know that Majesty then greatest shows, When, like the Sun,. it smiles upon all eyes, And sees all eyes reflecting it again ; To prize our Liberty, by form and law Temper'd, yet thus more strong and sacred made, As Sovereignty's best ornament and guard, Giving most energy, most will inspiring, To shine in arts, in science, and in arms, THE P1UM B88 CB LB] OTTE. 221 To enrich a land, refine and sweeten life, Unfold the mind, and still the nature raise Of moral, social, intellectual man. Twaa hers to view such Freedom as the life Of a grand complex whole, whose central bond Is kingly rule: she felt that it could pa) A homage of the heart unknown to Blares : And for a throne's just glory or defend . Made all that honor, mind, and fearless strength In millions are, when guarding what they love, Would round it form an adamantine wall. It was a part of her sweet home's emploj [So was she tutor'd through paternal ca To travel over England's storied p . Achievements chronicled, enacted laws: To trace in peace or war each reign's effect, Changes in times and manners, and their source ; And thus her own and her loved Husband's thoughts She led to note w bate'er in men or thin Was useful, wise, or glorious: as the b Wander with busy pinion to make bool On the field's fiowerj Bweets, and -.tore a hive v\ iili honii d treasure for the general weal. In such a course, the commenl of their tongui Waked more and more their h.u iiionv ol SOul ; Her eye would kindle hi-, whene'er she read ( >f king-becoming graces, and perchance Mighl oft exclaim, " Thus let it be bvc tbu 228 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. If regal care (which long may Heaveu avert) Descend to me." Amid their virtues' rays Love joy'd to bask, and in new triumph waved His purple wings, to see them play with smiles Tender and soft as pastoral innocence, Yet, issuing from a godlike source of thought, Royal as sunbeams that give light and heat. Twas thus they drank the cup of life together, Making each sip as nectar to the taste, And of more worth than Egypt's melted pearl. So sweet a cup was theirs ; but when they look'd With thirsting lips to find it sweeter still, Death dash'd it to the ground : for him who shared And made it sweet twas hers to live no more. Twas his to read in her last failing gaze All she to him and he to her had been. For us no more with blessings in her heart She lived, yet gave a lesson when she died, In her meek deference to the Will supreme, How we should bear to lose her peerless self. But is it wonderful that we should weep ? Our sympathies, so late in gallant trim To glisten bright before joy's rising beam, Now fare like morning dews, which from a tree Bent downwards by a sudden pitiless blast Are shook with leaves that lodg'd them to the ground. Our expectations all on tip-toe stood, Breathless for tidings, which o'er hill and dale Steeds would have borne, more fleet than winged winds, THE PRINCESS CHAR] 01 IK. 229 As proudly conscious wherefore they were deckd With trappings gay, why shoutings fill'd the skies, And why the towns and villages had sent Thousands to meet them in the crowded ways. Night would have then in every peopled set ae Of Britain's Isle her dark dominion 1"-' . Bright signals would have told the moon and stars, If light they gave, it was not needed there : Yet what were these, in contrast with the looks, The mind-illumin'd looks, that would have lent A richer brightness to the brightest day ? Cannons would harmlessly have thundcr'd forth A kingdom's joy sublime ; bells would have roll'd Their pealing merriment from shore to shore : Yet these in melody could not have vied With the sweet chimes of tenderness and g In countless bosoms, tuning every tongue To one glad theme. The present would have beam'd More cheerily than Bard has power to tell, And to his mind, in Nature's wonted course, A vision of the future would have shewn One like a Fairy Queen on throne of stale With Britain's chivalry collected round, A people's strength reclined in smiling peace, While cherub forms might point to vistas blight Of unborn ages opening to the view. Thus high our promis'djoys and hopes had risen, Like exhalations that mount up the skies, Masses of gold and purple forming thi re 230 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. Showing to Fancy images of bliss Beauteous and grand, rich groves and shining towers And fair Elysian fields. But all out hopes Have fallen downward, in a flood of woe And disappointment deluging the land. Princess, adieu ! Though thou art set in death And seen no more, yet our recording love Shall be an ocean-mirror, where thy name August and star-like shall for ever shine. Thou hast not reign'd : it was thy filial wish, In long subjection to thy Father's rule, His glory might enhance, his love endear Thy private bliss ; while that, in sweet return, Might soften and relieve his public cares ; And thou shouldst recompense his duteous pangs For a beloved and venerable sire, By solacing his own decline of life With all that he could hope for in a child. Thou hast not reign'd, except in British hearts, Where, in the thought of what thou wouldst have been, Thou in a dear brief space hast reign'd an age. Thou art not mother to a line of kings ; Yet shaft thou so transmit thy worth's fair fame, That regal excellence, when blazon'd most, Shall mind all times of what we pictur'd thee. Thy spouse hath lost in thee a promised Queen : Yet can no foreign honor equal that Which pointing cries, " this is the Leopold THE PBINCB88 CHABLOTTB. 281 Whom English Charlotte loved ;" and in our land Thy mm: remembrance with imperial power Shall hover, as a Seraph at his side, Securing him. wherever he BhaU move, Love and obeisance tor a guard of state. From streets and windows throng'd smih b mix'd with sighs, Rais'd hands and gazing silence, shall proclaim What blessings on his head a nation pours. Eyes oft around him shall be fill'd with tear-. With pearly tears, more precious to the heart Than the rich jewels of a kingly crown. Then, fare thee well ! Britannia's buried boast ! Our bright but lost expectancy, farewell! Thus had my soul indulged ber Borrowing mood. And was awhile in musing stillnos wrapt; When dreaming or entranced a strain 1 heard Mournful and soft, yet gradually rais'd To such mellifluous triumph, that almost It stole my breath away. The strain it seem'U By which B spirit from this vale of tears Is wele \1 and attuned to heavenly joys. I look'd and saw beyond a dark w»l cloud A beauteous form, enrobed in purest white Refulgent, thai uprising to the sky Glanced on the earth beneath a pitying smile. Below that cloud, on elevated ground, A mighty temple oped its folding gates Eastward and westward, to the north and BOUth, 2-') "2 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. \\ hile thither wearing grief's habiliments And in long order crowds from every side Moved, with one shade of sadness on all brows, Ranks and degrees, from penury to pomp. Ascending its high steps with mien devout They bow'd, and to Jehovah, God of Gods, A solemn worship paid ; where voices now Responded, now in supplication join'd, Or now in choral praises swell'd the tide Of instrumental harmony, which, roll'd Thro' aisles and fretted vaults, bore up to heaven Concordant aspirations from all hearts In one deep volume of collective sound. Meanwhile a cheering radiance through the cloud Gleam'd, as they spake or sang ; and of their words This, the clear import, vibrates on my soul : " Ruler of all events in earth and heaven, Author of life and death, eternal King, As creatures of the dust, we bend to Thee, And cry with smitten hearts, Thy will be done. Thy will be done, whose wisdom can at once Discern all things past, present, and to come, In all their issues. Let thy will be done, Parent of all, whose mercy and whose love, In measures infinite beyond our ken And soaring thought, are over all thy works. Give us true blessings in thy time and mode, Nor let our granted wishes prove our bane. i in. I'KIM ISS i BABL0T1 1 838 - II teach us, when afflicted, so to pray, And in such spirit, tli.it each outward ill And each petition may to us become A good, and tit us for receiving good. T< ach us to mark in evi ry earthly change WhaA Bhadea we are, what Bhadowe we porsu And thence to seek the bliss that dwells with Thee, Substantial, perfect, ever-during 1> : We pray that on our land thy Countenance May shed its light, and make a common w Knit us in mutual concord. .May the I Of England's Politj and Brunswick's Line, Wat( r'd and aourish'd by a nation's tears, Strike deeper roots, and gain with ampler sha New strength and beauty from maturing time. May sceptred Rule and Loyalty contend Which most shall homage pay, or most deserve. May the reft Father in our sympath Behold a people warm'd with Glial Ion While in his sway they own parental care. Long may he live to see the reign of pi Surpassing in true gloij war's renown, By bloodies proofs of virtue, skill, and power Gladdening his country with their blest effects, By triumphs over ignorance and \ i Conquests o'er all that darkens or aflliets The lot <>r mind of man , in present J<>\ Advancing mortal life's immortal < nda R 234 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. [a lyrical poem.] The following poem, or the greater part of it, was composed by my Father in his younger clays, and received high commendation from the poets Wordsworth and Coleridge, with whom he was on terms of friend- ship. It was first published in the year 1840, at which time an analysis of it, in the shape of a letter to the Author, was written by Dr. Eccles, an eminent physician of Birmingham. This was printed, together with my Father's own argument : and I need make, no apology for reprinting it now : for, to use my Father's own words, " it ra_ay be read with interest as a separate essay in prose, by no ordinary metaphysician, on the charac- teristics of the youthful mind." C. R. K. ARGUMENT OF THE POEM. BY THE AUTHOR. The following Ode is designed to illustrate with the colouring of poetry, yet at the same time with philosophical correctness, the attributes and passions of youth, as they manifest themselves in the order of nature. When the mind is in the first stage of development through the exercise of the senses, one of its earliest emotions is Wonder; a term intended to designate the interest, frequently mingled with apprehension, which is excited by the novelty of the objects that awaken the attention of a child. The succeeding characteristics of boyhood are obviously spor- tiveness and mirth, an impatience of restraint, and that bounding elasticity of spirit which is the natural concomitant of vigorous health. But the enlarging capacity of the youthful mind soon creates a general desire of some undefined enjoyment which it has not vol experienced; and the world having been already coloured by the imaginative faculty, » » Tin. hki'.n o] rot II! lary anticipatione are >-\\ formed and • i. lik>- the babbles which arise upon a bright stream. Itisonl) after such antici- pations have I ii disappointed, thai Hope, as a passion, i- called into action ; ami thai the mind, dissatisfied with the present, looks i"i i to the future. Not onconnectedwith tb ing interest in 1 1 1 « - drama of life is the strong excitement produced by the terrible, tin - idthesu] tL Bat this is followed by the still i i ■t'ul influence of those intellectual and physical energies which give birth I ind ipendi ace, to daring e n ter p rise, and noble at i are the distinctive properties oi t] Ambition which is predominant in youth, and which yields only to the aacendancj ve. ANALYSIS OF THE POEM. HV JOHN K'i LBS, M.I'. Mv dear Sir, 1 have lately been attempting to 'haw up a met ipn analysis (as 1 sometimes threatened that I would <\ f your . U poem entitled ran kbion <>i- roi ph, with a view to n the degree of philosophical j displayed in your disposition and group- ing of the passione according to the different pe life. The boyh I I or imply, princi- pally it' ii"i exclusively W ler ami Curiosity, the • propensities, the Bentimenl of the beautiful and sublin elas- ticity of spirit, and boundless 1 B f th bntoa rl.-arl j to "in' if existence, md child- hood, during which we have be to acquainted with the oi of events in the little world around us; yet retaining no recollection, having been almost on of the state of mind i npanyin sens itions, we cannot i"i m a conji cture .i- 1" the nature of our pi imary feelings. It i prol bl ' I, that the feeling oi Wonder would not arise in the Infant mind on the occurreni e "i anj events, all of which m Uy new i" it ; wh ier implies such » khowled ■■■ of th ii 2 ^oG THE REIGN OF YOUTH. of their continued recurrence as heretofore. It is when any apparent deviation from this course takes place, that we are seized with astonish- ment. This passion therefore may be justly considered as coeval with that period of youth, at which you represent it as called into existence ; nor need I observe that, so far as the mental development is concerned, and indeed the happiness of that happy age, it is, whilst almost the first, at the same time the most important. It is by the first impressions of Wonder that Curiosity is awakened, and by the constant repetition of them that it is perpetually kept up ; being at once an unfailing source of agreeable surprise, and also a stimulus to active efforts for the attainment of its own gratification. It thus gives rise to the desire and eager pursuit of know- ledge; and with what success at the dawning, as also in the more advanced periods of boyhood, we need hardly stop to inquire. It is universally allowed to be almost marvellous. If all human science and attainments were to be divided (as an elo- quent writer suggests) into two portions, the one\omprehending what is common to all, and principally acquired in the years of infancy and youth ; the other that stock of truths which is peculiar to the wise and the learned ; it can scarcely be an extravagant paradox to assert, that the latter portion would seem very trifling in comparison with the former. But your portraiture of Wonder embraces two other affections fre- quently inseparable from it, and highly influential on the youthful mind ; the one an active principle, the other a passive but powerful sen- timent. In the existence of these causes of surprise which are beyond our reach, we are content to have our curiosity satisfied by explanation alone ; but in those excited by the agency of other human beings, how- ever great the pleasure received, it is never complete without an effort on our own part to imitate and perform the same. No sooner have we seen or heard and wondered at such effects, than we feel in eager haste to assure ourselves that we also can produce them. But even in the plea- surable act, from our ignorance of their mode of production, we are never perhaps entirely exempt from apprehension. The influence of this imitative principle may in part be imagined from the above-mentioned operation of Curiosity alone ; and such curiosity, combined with this new principle, so unceasingly active in the youthful heart, and the con- stant love of action, is converted into an almost omnipotent engine in the development of the corporeal and intellectual faculties both in youth and manhood, and also in a great measure in the formation of the present and future character. What pleasure do we feel, even at the earliest periods, in the consciousness and exercise of our bodily energies and senses. The infant is delighted with no wonders so much as those of its own production ; when capable of executing one thing, he rejects it, » » I III i;i [GN OP J 01 ill. and grasps at anothi ften as new exhibited before him. T ■ complete the analogies, ami till up the pi sture of youth and 1 » I -* ti i ■ 1 1< 1 at this the opening tide of existence, it remains to add the pat hut strong sentiment of the beautiful and sublime, which is evidently depicted in the movement of youi >nof Wonder, and is in nature equally elicited with Wonder by such object* as you have p sented before your allegi e, the rising sun, the glassy lake, the woody glade, and music's delicious I entiment perhaps even deeper and more pure than at a matur* directly from th< of the sublime and beautiful objecl itself, un- warned by numeroue d nol weakened, in y be, by the light which v ' '• ll, '~ throw upon it. t, 1 n it nol least, in thi ur drama chi exhibited in all their L forms. H and sustain the nnbounded activity of youth, e <1> of its faculties and powers, it v. that pleasure Bhould annexed to it- pursuits. A Li ■— ••I:, • . ■ irly period «t' life the alacrity of apiril i> like that bodily srity with which every limb, as it bounds along, delightful consciousness of its vigour. T ■ ful- ness for any length of time-. i> then a- difficult as t.. keep fixed for any rthof time those muscles to which •• forawhil ae." Unt the I ith •t all of tin- unconscious kind and origin. Thi ' "" are pouring in a cont ion of ol gratify, and instruct : andth< sial principl in youth, is const .ml;, awakening ' !l1 if the heart, which, pleasant in th r joys, whilsl th I Set activity wQ] I Al " Uowed by Lis! of body or mind, is p your picl I re, who brings up til- rearof the sportive b lin. I alacrity both : in which the I luxurious pi ni indol 'I the mind . wandei , i f will v. th in t.. renew with th the I : ! tion. Thi ■ oy one period i- the soun •■ of allourvol ' '" ,l "' boyh I the di ires, while th id impeti 238 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. equally evanescent, their objects few and unimportant, scarcely extend- ing to the future, and of short-lived momentary interest. It is only when, with the growing expansion and consciousness of its capacities and powers, the mind takes an onward and prospective aim, and feels the want of objects of a more permanent interest, that Desire can be said to exist as a fixed and powerfid passion. Yet while the wishes of youth, on the confines of boyhood and juvenescence, must necessarily be vague, unsettled, and visionary, the attempts to fill up the void which is felt are attended, as you have shown, with pain and disappointment. Hope however is almost ever at hand, to dissipate the fears and en- courage the aspirations of youth. It is almost coeval and commensurate with our desires themselves, and especially at this confident era of life, when the pride of our awakened and increasing powers (before doubt has been raised by failure or defeat) persuades us that every thing practicable is within the reach of our ability. This hope is., always in proportion to the value we feel for the objects of our wishes, (which, though undefined, are always in youth dazzling), and to the degree of our assurance in the capability of accomplishing them. But fear is the correlative of hope, and notwithstanding the confidence of this stage of youth, and its sus- ceptibility of hope, it is also the age when the susceptibility of the mar- vellous, the supernatural, and the terrible is at its greatest height. We see it in the avidity for legendary fictions, the wonders of mythology, and the deeds of fabulous heroes. It is true that this passion is greatly assisted by the imaginative faculty, which then exerts itself with uncon- trollable activity ; but it is felt independently of this. We do not read such things when young as in maturer years, admiring the art and beauty with which the wonderful and superhuman are worked up into enchanting fictions, but rather for the great interest of the tale itself, an almost undoubting belief in its reality during the perusal, and a vague apprehension of its possibility even in soberer moments. It is Burke I think who has said, that in the dark the boldest and least credulous mind is not exempt from fear ; but it is of dangers of a different kind and far less formidable than the ideal ones conjured up by the young. These however are soon to be dispelled by the increasing light of nature, and the enlargement of reason, and are replaced by the clear view, the settled purpose, and independent feeling derived from know- ledge, which in their turn are to be exerted and brought into action through the instrumentality of mental and corporeal strength, enterprise, and valour. A new period has thus arrived, contrasted with that imitative process which for a time is used by Providence in bringing our nature towards its perfection. Yet, as Burke observes, if men gave themselves up to imitation entirely, and each followed the other as in an eternal circle, it » THE aSIGM OF VOl'TII. L'ii'J i> easy to see that thftre nevei could be any improvement. To prevt at this, there is implanted in man a Benae of ambition, a satisfaction arising from a contemplation of bis ezo Uing his fellows in something de< med valuable amongst them, Dp to thlfl period our pride and ttob oonfined to the poesession and acquisition of personal qualities either of the mind or body, i bo the pleasure and admiration which t ln\ ran obtain for as as Buch, and to the deeds which of themselves they can effect. We have i it in the delighted and conscious display of our superior bodily energies. We are afterwards equally desirous and proud of the like possession, and fame of superior mental endow m< ats. But in a short time the results contemplated by youthful ambition are the objects of its desire and self-congratulation, as much as the distinction which them. When the passion is of a generous and patriotic nature (a~ it then commonly is), these ct, and are intended to ai the interests and fate of whol and ""111111111. d more than of the individual himself, your picture of Ambition isof this noble character, and its qualities arc beautifully implied and illustrated in that fine • 1 ly : Tli' applause of listening senates to oommand, The threats of pain and nun to despl To scatter pinny o'er a smiling Land, And read tlu-ir history in a nation's (.'yes. The 1 -don. Love, is evidently in its right place. It i> intelligible to ill ■ use which yon make ol I I foi it* formation in the mind, is equally re amend d by its phil phy and its 1 try. I need uot give any analysis of it ; but, as they n I chiefly to your delineation of this passion, 1 ' ! conclude my letter with quoting the purportof someofthe observations which were made upon The E&kign of Foi ra bj youi late friend, the distin- ihed philosopher and poet, B. T. Coleridge: — "Like a skilful magician, vou have purposely kept yourself out of right, as fai as you Id, while you caused s scenic exhibition to move before us. ^ on have therefore properly given us description without sentiment — I m ,, Qtimenl expressed -for il is often implied, and finely implied in such lines as those beginning — " B 1 ee proclaimed that in ber I »m dwelt," dfce. On thia account, however, 1 should conceive that, notwitiv Btanding the lyrical b irmonj of its measures, youi < kle i n bole, well i pted to music, while no composition of the sami lei th ul more scope foi painting. In this I am ware, that in gen raJ bad bettei not take theii From all bere is only a veil of g inze throw n 1 your p 1 ions 1. m othei nam. wtod u| u you hav< >■ p 240 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. sented them, under certain circumstances. Other parts may be quite as well worked up, but wonder, desire, and love seem to me the most original, especially the last. The movement indeed in your Love scene is slower and less dramatic than it had been, and something didactic is unavoidably admitted. But you have here treated a trite and therefore difficult topic with most ingenious novelty, and with so much of the truth of nature, that the figures in your metaphysical machinery have the vivid appearance of flesh and blood." I am, Dear Sir, Your sincerely attached and faithful friend, Feb. Gth, 1840. J. ECCLES, M.D. THE REIGN OE YOUTH. When Youth from regions of eternal Spring On Earth's expecting vales descended, The laughing Hours that round attended Proclaim'd the Fairy King. With graceful vigour and elastic bound He lightly touch'd the ground, As though his feet could leave behind The pinions of the W T ind. His breath had Nature's fresh perfume, His cheek her vivid bloom, Rich as the roses that his temples crown'd : A sceptre in his hand was seen Wreath'd with budding evergreen ; » int. m.iun oi roi 111 His mantle as it flow , I The vernal Year's impictur'd beaut] Bhow'd. And lo, from bowers and dells, Where'er within their cells The Passions lay entranced, Swift on the plain, his subject train, The loveliest of their tribe advanced To keep the fairy reign. First, newly waken'd by the breeze ami wave, The yonng-eyed Wonder sallied from his cave. With step abrupt and vrilder'd gaze He trod the scene's mysterious maze : Now he mark'd with coy delight The Sun all-glorious on the mountain height, Now shrank affrighted by the glancing rays, Again recoiling, as the lake display'd II,- unknown image, and across the glade Moved like an airy sprite his Lei But who th' effect can till, When Music met him with her Bpeaking --hell ? lb' saw, he heard the ohordfl obej Her cunning fingers, and be hied away, Till soon overtaken by the tuneful apeU Back to her side th' onconsoioua captive stole ; Then, as awhile -die stay'd her On that Btrange shell in playful mood lie dared a mimie blow to i r\ , Yet Mill like me pursued, 242 THE REIGN OP YOUTH. Had half retreated ere it made reply ; And when her touch drew forth a louder strain By viewless Echo mock'd from caverns nigh, On every side, at every sound, Starting he look'd around, And still he smiled of thought beguded, And starting look'd again. Next, Youth, to welcome thee, Sport prepared his jubilee. From thickets pearl 'd with dew He on impatient tiptoe sprang to view With shrill uplifted horn, and call'd his sylvan crew. Redoubling shouts before them sent, Forth they rush from his greenwood tent, With their high-flourish'd weapons of merriment, Thy circled throne to greet ; Triumphal in air a standard they bear With many a garland deck'd, the prize of many a feat. At the sight a transport showing From the bosom fresh and glowing, Through the bright eye overflowing, Loose or linked hand in hand Mirth leads up her frolic band, With obliquely darted smiles Watching 'gainst invited wiles. Health is there, that with the dawn ('limbs the mountain, skims the lawn, * THE RKION OP YOUTH. Oft on nectar feasted high, Borne by zephyrs from the sky : Wit, that strikes with gay surprise, Jollity, that grief defies, And loving every touch to flee The random-footed Libert \ . With half-shut eyes ecstatic Laughter VI most breathless totters after; One hand holds her bending breast, While t'other points at antic J< St. Leisure winding here and there Dallies hindmost, heedless where. Thus, Youth, to honour thee, Thus they kept their jubili Thus to greet thee all conspire, All enchanted, all on fire, .V- joys could never fail and never lire. Next bj ;i lonely stream along the \ Where murmurs Boat upon the Bcented gale, Desire came wandering with unsettled air Behind him <1 blossoms lay, Pluck'd in his eager baste and idly thrown awaj . For lighl and fickle in the lac! i • II . ionary mind -.ill pant? for objects undefini ■ ! Ami as w h. re'er he turns 244 THE KEIGN OF YOUTH. The wistful ardour hums, Amid the peopled heams Before him many a phantom gleams In every varied hue ; Though, hail'd in vain by his extended arm, At some rude wind they take alarm And vanish from his view. Twas then a dullness on his bosom crept ; He gazed around and wonder'd till he wept. But he has lost the quick-forgotten te\r ; For Hope, the beauteous Hope, is near, Earth-delighting prophetess That ever comes to bless. Bright as the morn that rises to behold Ascending vapours turn to clouds of gold, She dances on the plain, As if her listening ear Caught from afar a blithe inviting strain. She courts the Future. Can he aught deny To the simplicity of her bespeaking eye ? Between them Fays are on the wing, And pledges of bis favour bring. She courts the Future, till successive Hours In distant light array'd Look forth from arches open'd through the shade That still is rolling round his misty bowers : This prankt with flowers her notice greets, IUI. KI.K.N n| -,,,( | H. 2 I.", That seems to sip with rubj lip A chalice full of sweets ; The next with gleaming torch disp Fair blissful scenes, yet most attract- t : By sign> that till the mind witli more than vision meets : ii is welcom'd as it lingers With hei kiss'd ami beckoning fingers ; If one should haply rise In less alluring gui llupe does but mark all cheerily the while Another close behind peep o'er it with a smile. "l - ■; ah ! with gloomy tidings on his brow, A giant Wizard of the mountains now Pale Terror came ; and while with cowering mien A -pell-bound troop were round him seen, lb- lip- essay'd dark mysteries to unfold : Bui soon tho-e quivering 1 lock'd, And his glazed eye-ball- in distortion roll'd, Betokening things too dread for Bpeech Or shuddering though! to reach : The earth beneath him rock'. I, While mixt with thunder and the voice of wa\ in black unfathom'd cai W a- leard a drean en , That echoing seem'd in other worlds to di Tie u silence reign'd, but such u thn ■ On Expectation's front a u r ha-tlier h 245 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. For soon a scowl of grim delight Told that from realms of night Unearthly shapes were hastening into sight : As thus the charm more fearful grew, A wilder eagerness his votaries thrill'd, And at each stir or sound, Above, below, around, Shrinking they turn'd or fell upon the ground, Nor rais'd their heads till his behest was known : For he could keep suspended as he will'd Their sense and breathing, by his look alone Could give them winged speed, or freeze them into stone. But hence ye tremblers ! Who are these in motion, Brisk as the tide of ocean ? Tis Intellect, arous'd as from a trance, Intent by nature's clue To wind through labyrinths, where at each advance Her unveil'd secrets meet the courting view : Tis young Disdain, with smile half turn'd On bounds his vaulting feet have spnrn'd : Tis Strength, that lifts his rampant form As he could ride and curb the storm : Tis Independence, on a height, Free as the eagle pois'd for flight : Tis Valour, that has met the eyes Of spirit-stirring Enterprise, And watches for a prompted aim At which to rush through flood and flame. TH1 Kl K.N 01 rODTH. Yet these arr but a herald hand , The created Chieftain Lb himself al hand : These shall but wait on his heroic stad Aiul act at his command. He comes; Ambition comes! His way prepare ! Li t banners wave in air, And loud-voiced trumpets his approach declare ! He comes : for Glory has before him rais'd Her shield with godlike deeds t mblazed : He conn?, he cornea : for purposes sublime Dilate his soid, and his exulting Beams like a sun, that in the vernal prime With golden promise travels up the sk\ Onward looking far and high, While before his champion pride Valliea rise and hills subside ; His mighty thoughts, too swift for Lagging Time, Thro' countless triumphs run ; Each deed conceiv'd appears already done, Foes are vanquish'd, fields are won ; E'en now with wreaths immortal crown'd lb- marches to the sound ( )f gratulating lyn And Earth's applauding shou( his generous In. -dm fip Yet ruder souml-, South, were hush'd awhile. Nor had Ambition run bis pUTpos'd 1 When Love ai last appeared to claim thy smile, And at thy side obtain the di and pi 248 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. Leaving a diviner scene Where her dwelling erst had been, By zephyrs wafted in a pearly car, To this sublunar element Her gliding course she bent, And came thro' vernal mists emerging like a star. But first, O Youth, that she might be Duly train'd for Earth and thee, On ambrosia Love was fed In Fancy's charmed bowers, Where his wand her footsteps led Thro' mazes gemm'd with flowers, Making Earth to her appear Like a higher kindred sphere. Yet Pity there, benignly meek, With faltering voice and moisten'd cheek, Keveal'd that Pain and Woe Had found a place below ; And often as she paus'd, from grove and hill A sound was borne of Nature's plaint, Melancholy, low, and faint, A whisper to the heart when all around was still ; Love scarcely breathing bent her head And listen'd till her colour fled, But, as it mantling came again, Her eyes all eloquent express'd An answer to the mournful strain, » THE REIGN 01 YOUTH. Proclaiming that within her bosom dwelt Softness ineffable, a power and will To conquer Strength, the fiercest Rage to melt, To find a balm for life's severest ill \nd lull the sorrows of the earth to rest. Thus Pity's influence o'er her soul Heighten'd Fancy's rich control : Love from Pity learnt the sigh, That saddens but endears ; From Fancy learnt the rapture high, That trembles into tears. Each o'er her slumbers bent And both their inspirations lent, Like rainbow tints in dewy lustre blent. Once, as in a cave she slept, Bees that had from Eden stray'd Its honey to her lips convey d, And by the murmuring which they kept About her golden hair Lured from the sky such visions fair Va Eden knew whin Innocence was there : Love woke, and moving with impaasion'd grace \f' mper'd to the music of her thought, Look'd as one that trod the liquid air, \\ hile from Borne angel-pn lit A radiance blush'd upon her fact -. :i, as a drooping flower with moisture firauj By In r own consciousneN op] i 250 THE REIGN OF YOUTH. At Pity's side she knelt with heaving breast, And seem'd to ask in gentle grief If sweet illusion mock'd her fond belief : But Fancy near in triumph mute Still round her waved his wings ; For, though she courted Pity's lute, And bade it speak of tears, Of sighs and tender fears, Yet would she bend to kiss the strings, As in their tone of bliss alone Yet breath'd the spirit of her dream ; Her brow she rais'd and upward gazed, As she on one exhaustless theme Would fain for ever dwell, Then smiled, as bidding mortal tongues despair That wondrous theme's entrancing power to tell, And still would sighs pursued by smiles declare, She felt a pain that spurn'd relief and bliss too sweet to bear. Thus taught to smile and sigh, Love now to Youth drew nigh : The Heavens o'er her head Their blandest influence shed, And on the Earth her very sight Had all things waked to soft delight : The Elements with mutual greeting Gave sign that Love and Youth were meeting; The balmy air with humming sound And sun-kiss'd pinions quivering o'er the ground » thk iu:i<;\ (ii jfoi in. ('alls verdure, fragrance, life and bloom around Forests with smoother brew Their shaggy honours how. And up from lowly nests in mead or glen Ambitious warblers rise, That task with twinkling plumes the dazzled ken, Or lost in light convey Earth's gladness to the ski Voices meanwhile from other sphere-. Saluting mortal ears, Willi chime of song from land and ocean sent Mingled their uniting ravishment ; And this the lay to wood and vale and shore That each enamour'd wind in tuneful concert bore — Turn hither, turn thine eyes, O Youth. Love'-' choice ordain'd to be, And haste to learn the blissful truth, That Love was form'd for thee. Take her, that l.ove in thee may find Ml that 18 imaged in her mind ; Take her, that Love to thee may give What most shall make it life to live a Earth pn>\ ide To crow n thy guardian care ; t >h ! take her as a Queen and Bride, Thj golden n ign to -hare. mi. i. ml UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. THIS LIBKA OT ~~" UNIV&KS1TY Of CALEPOKHfii i AA 000 382 748 2 , Mill y