And divine Art, that fast to memory clung,
Thy gifts, magnificent Region, ever young
In the sun's eye, and in his sister's sight
How beautiful! how worthy to be sung
In strains of rapture, or subdued delight!
I feign not; witness that unwelcome shock
That followed the first sound of German speech,
Caught the far-winding barrier Alps among.
In that announcement, greeting seemed to mock
Parting; the casual word had power to reach
My heart, and filled that heart with conflict strong.

XXVII.

COMPOSED AT RYDAL ON MAY MORNING, 1838.

IF with old love of you, dear Hills! I share
New love of many a rival image brought
From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:
Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when I compare
Thy present birth-morn with thy last, so fair,
So rich to me in favors. For my lot
Then was, within the famed Egerian Grot

To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air
Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning, too.
Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming

Amid the sunny, shadowy Coliseum ;

Heard them, unchecked by aught of saddening hue, For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring, Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum.

XXVIII.

THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN.

WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds
O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds:
And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold
A new magnificence that vies with old;
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood

A votive Column, spared by fire and flood:-
And, though the passions of man's fretful race
Have never ceased to eddy round its base,
Not injured more by touch of meddling hands
Than a lone obelisk, 'mid Nubian sands,
Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save
From death the memory of the good and brave.
Historic figures round the shaft embost
Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost :
Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees
Group winding after group, with dream-like ease;
Triumphs in sun-bright gratitude displayed,

Or softly stealing into modest shade.

So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine; The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes Wide-spreading odors from her flowery wreaths.

Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds' ears Murmuring but one smooth story for all years, I gladly commune with the mind and heart

Of him who thus survives by classic art,
His actions witness, venerate his mien,

And study Trajan as by Pliny seen;

Behold how fought the Chief whose conquering sword

Stretched far as earth might own a single lord;
In the delight of moral prudence schooled,
How feelingly at home the sovereign ruled;
Best of the good, in pagan faith allied
To more than Man, by virtue deified.

Memorial Pillar! 'mid the wrecks of Time Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime, The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, Whence half the breathing world received its doom: Things that recoil from language; that, if shown By apter pencil, from the light had flown. A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores, There greets an Embassy from Indian shores; Lo! he harangues his cohorts,

- there the storin
Of battle meets him in authentic form!
Unharnessed, naked troops of Moorish horse
Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian force,
To hoof and finger mailed; yet, high or low,
None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe;
In every Roman, through all turns of fate,
Is Roman dignity inviolate;

Spirit in him preeminent, who guides,
Supports, adorns, and over all presides;
Distinguished only by inherent state

From honored Instruments that round him wait;

Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test
Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest
On aught by which another is deprest.

- Alas! that One thus disciplined could toil To enslave whole nations on their native soil; So emulous of Macedonian fame,

That, when his age was measured with his aim,
He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories,
And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs.
O weakness of the Great! O folly of the wise!

Where now the haughty Empire that was spread With such fond hope? her very speech is dead : Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies, And Trajan still, through various enterprise, Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies: Still are we present with the imperial Chief, Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief, Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined, Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind

THE EGYPTIAN MAID:

OR, THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER-LILY.

[For the names and persons in the following poem, see the "History of the Renowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table"; for the rest, the Author is answerable; only it may be proper to add, that the Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art once included among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum.]

WHILE Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
Forth-looking toward the rocks of Scilly,
The pleased Enchanter was aware

Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air;
Yet was she work of mortal hands,

And took from men her name, THE WATER

LILY.

Soft was the wind, that landward blew ;

And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,

Grows from a little edge of light

To a full orb, this Pinnace bright