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Like a glow-worm golden

In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden

Its aërial hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the

view :

Like a rose embowered

In its own green leaves,
By warm winds deflowered,

Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged

thieves :

Sound of vernal showers

On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awakened flowers,

All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass :

Teach us, sprite or bird,

What sweet thoughts are thine :
I have never heard

Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

Chorus Hymenæal,
Or triumphal chaunt,

Matched with thine would be all

But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains

Of thy happy strain ?
What fields, or waves, or mountains ?

What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain ?

With thy clear keen joyance

Languor cannot be :
Shadow of annoyance

Never came near thee :
Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.

Waking or asleep,

Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep

Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

We look before and after,

And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Zet I re could scom

Eate, ad pride, and fear;
If we were things bom

Tot to shed a tear,
I know not now thy jay we ever should come near.

Better than all measures

Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures

That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scomer of the ground !

Teach me half the gladness

That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness

From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.

ODE TO LIBERTY.

Yet, Freedom, yet thy banner torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.

BYRON.

A GLORIOUS people vibrated again :

The lightning of the nations, Liberty, From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er Spain,

Scattering contagious fire into the sky, Gleamed. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay,

And, in the rapid plumes of song,

Clothed itself, sublime and strong ; As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among, Hovering in verse o'er its accustomed prey ;

Till from its station in the heaven of fame The Spirit's whirlwind rapt it, and the ray

Of the remotest sphere of living flame Which paves the void was from behind it flung,

As foam from a ship's swiftness, when there came A voice out of the deep: I will record the same.

II.
The Sun and the serenest Moon sprang forth :
The burning stars of the abyss were hurled

Into the depths of heaven. The dædal earth,

That island in the ocean of the world, Hung in its cloud of all-sustaining air :

But this divinest universe

Was yet a chaos and a curse, For thou wert not: but power from worst producing

worse, The spirit of the beasts was kindled there,

And of the birds, and of the watery forms, And there was war among them, and despair

Within them, raging without truce or terms : The bosom of their violated nurse Groaned, for beasts warred on beasts, and worms on

worms, And men on men ; each heart was as a hell of storms.

III.

er? HET Man, the imperial shape, then multiplied

: 122 His generations under the pavilion

AUT SHO Of the Sun's throne : palace and pyramid, 1764

Temple and prison, to many a swarming million, Were, as to mountain-wolves their ragged caves.io

This human living multitude

Was savage, cunning, blind, and rude,
For thou wert not; but o'er the populous solitude,
Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves
Hung Tyranny ; beneath, sate deified

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