"

II

False Parent of Mankind!
Obdurate, proud, and blind,

I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,
Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse!
Scattering this far-fetched moisture from
my wings,

Upon the act a blessing I implore,

Of which the rivers in their secret springs, The rivers stained so oft with human gore, Are conscious;-may the like return no more!

May Discord-for a Seraph's care

Shall be attended with a bolder prayerMay she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss

These mortal spheres above, Be chained for ever to the black abyss. And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love,

And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!" The Spirit ended his mysterious rite, And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite.

And scattered rural farms of aspect bright; And, here and there, between the pastoral downs,

The azure sea upswelled upon the sight. Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows! But not a living creature could be seen Through its wide circuit, that, in deep

repose,

And, even to sadness, lonely and serene, Lay hushed; till-through a portal in the sky

Brighter than brightest loop-hole, in a storm,

Opening before the sun's triumphant eyeIssued, to sudden view, a glorious Form! Earthward it glided with a swift descent: Saint George himself this Visitant must be;

And, ere a thought could ask on what intent

He sought the regions of Humanity,
A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
City and field and flood ;-aloud it cried-

And upright weapons innocently gleaming,
Along the surface of a spacious plain
Advance in order the redoubted Bands,
And there receive green chaplets from the
hands

Of a fair female train-
Maids and Matrons, dight

In robes of dazzling white;

While from the crowd bursts forth a rapturous noise

By the cloud-capt hills retorted;
And a throng of rosy boys

In loose fashion tell their joys;
And grey-haired sires, on staffs supported,
Look round, and by their smiling seem to
say,

Thus strives a grateful Country to display The mighty debt which nothing can repay!

Anon before my sight a palace rose Built of all precious substances,-so pure And exquisite, that sleep alone bestows Ability like splendour to endure: Entered, with streaming thousands, through the gate,

I saw the banquet spread beneath a Dome of state,

A lofty Dome, that dared to emulate
The heaven of sable night

With starry lustre; yet had power to throw
Solemn effulgence, clear as solar light,
Upon a princely company below,
While the vault rang with choral harmony,
Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath
the roaring sea.

-No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge

Of exultation hung a dirge
Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,
That kindled recollections
Of agonised affections;

And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended

In peace of spirit, and sublime content!

IV

But garlands wither; festal shows depart, Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sound

Now (for, though Truth descending from above

The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye

Your kindred Deities, Ye live and move, Spared for obeisance from perpetual love For privilege redeemed of godlike sway) Now, on the margin of some spotless fountain,

Or top serene of unmolested mountain, Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres, And for a moment meet the soul's desires! That I, or some more favoured Bard, may hear

What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung Of Britain's acts,-may catch it with rapt

ear,

And give the treasure to our British tongue! So shall the characters of that proud page Support their mighty theme from age to age;

And, in the desert places of the earth, When they to future empires have given

birth,

So shall the people gather and believe
The bold report, transferred to every clime;
And the whole world, not envious but ad-
miring,

And to the like aspiring,
Own-that the progeny of this fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled,
A corresponding virtue to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time--
That not in vain they laboured to secure,
For their great deeds, perpetual memory,
And fame as largely spread as land and sea,
By Works of spirit high and passion pure!
1816.

ODE

I

WHO rises on the banks of Seine,
And binds her temples with the civic wreath?
What joy to read the promise of her mien!
How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings
beneath

But they are ever playing,
And twinkling in the light,
And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;

And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair,
And calls a look of love into her face,
And spreads her arms, as if the general air
Alone could satisfy her wide embrace.
-Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
Her love ye hailed-her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form
hath gone,

And stands amidst you now an armed creature,

Whose panoply is not a thing put on,
But the live scales of a portentous nature;
That, having forced its way from birth to
birth,

Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the Earth!

II

I marked the breathings of her dragon crest;

My Soul, a sorrowful interpreter,
In many a midnight vision bowed
Before the ominous aspect of her spear;

Weak Spirits are there-who would ask, Upon the pressure of a painful thing, The lion's sinews, or the eagle's wing; Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade, Among the lurking powers Of herbs and lowly flowers, Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aid

That Man may be accomplished for a task Which his own nature hath enjoined;;and why?

If, when that interference hath relieved him, He must sink down to languish In worse than former helplessness—and lie Till the caves roar,-and, imbecility

Again engendering anguish,

The same weak wish returns, that had before deceived him.

V

But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st

not speed

The course of things, and change the creed Which hath been held aloft before men's sight

Since the first framing of societies,

Whether, as bards have told in ancient

song,

Built up by soft seducing harmonies; Or prest together by the appetite,

And by the power, of wrong.

1816.

THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA

1812-13

HUMANITY, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen

day,

In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain, As though his weakness were disturbed by pain:

Or, if a juster fancy should allow
An undisputed symbol of command,
The chosen sceptre is a withered bough,
Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand.
These emblems suit the helpless and for-

lorn;

But mighty Winter the device shall scorn.

For he it was-dread Winter! who beset, Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net, That host, when from the regions of the Pole

They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal

That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied Their God, and placed their trust in human pride!

As fathers persecute rebellious sons,

He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth;

He called on Frost's inexorable tooth
Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold;
Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly

runs;

For why-unless for liberty enrolled
And sacred home-ah! why should hoary
Age be bold?

Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed, But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind, Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed,

And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind,

And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride,

And to the battle ride.

No pitying voice commands a halt,
No courage can repel the dire assault;
Distracted spiritless, benumbed, and blind,
Whole legions sink-and, in one instant,
find

Burial and death: look for them-and descry,

When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky,

A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!