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The infuriate spirits of the Murder'd make Thus saying, from the answering Maid he passid,
Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of Heaven. And with him disappear'd the Heavenly Vision.
Warm'd with new influence, the unwholesome plain
Sent up its foulest fogs to meet the Morn :

Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven' The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in blood!

All-conscious Presence of the Universe !

Nature's vast Ever-acting Energy! “ Maiden beloved, and Delegate of Heaven!”

In Will, in Deed, Impulse of All to All!

Whether thy love with unrefracted ray
To her the tutelary Spirit said)

Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if
Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day,
The storiny Morning into cloudless Noon.

Diseasing realms the enthusiast, wild of thought, Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand

Scatter new frenzies on the infected throng,
But this be thy best Omen—Save thy Country!"

Thou both inspiring and predooming both,
Fit instruments and best, of perfect end :

Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven!” lacerations of cheeks, nor with funeral ululation--but with cucling dances and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed,

And first a landscape rose, yet thou dwellest with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy More wild and waste and desolate than where dark pinions over the swelling of ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, Howls to her sunder'd cubs with piteous rage being Mea, they had endured from Men.

And savage agony.

Sibylline Leaves.

I POEMS OCCASIONED BY POLITICAL may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls EVENTS OR FEELINGS CONNECTED on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows,

and devote them for a while to the cause of human WITH THEM.

nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the

17th of November, 1796 ; having just concluded a When I have borne in memory what has tamed subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against Great nativos, bow eanobling thoughts depart France. The first and second Antistrophe describe When men change swords for legere, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed

the Image of the Departing Year, etc. as in a vision I had, my country! Am I to be blamed ?

The second Epode prophesies, in anguish of spirit, But, when I think of 'Thee, and what Thou art,

the downsall of this country.
Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
But dearly must we prize thee; we who find

1. la thee a bulwark of the cause of men ;

Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time! And I by my affection was beguiled.

It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
What wonder if a poet, now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,

Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!
Feit for thee as a Lover or a Child.

Yet, mine eye fix'd on Heaven's unchanging clime, Wordsroorth. Long when I listen’d, free from mortal fear,

With inward stillness, and submitted mind; ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.*

When lo! its folds far waving on the wind,

I saw the train of the DEPARTING YEAR!
Ιου, ιού, ώώ κακά.

Starting from my silent sadness,
Υπ' αυ με δεινός ορθομαντείας πόνος

Then with no unholy madness, Στροβεί, ταράσσων φροιμίοις εφημίοις.

Ere yet the enter'd clond foreclosed my sight,

I raised the impetuous song, and solemnized his Το μέλλον ήξει. Και συ μην πάχει παρών

'Αγαν γ' αληθόμαντιν μ' έρείς.
Æschyl. Agam. 1225.

Hither, from the recent tomb.

From the prison's direr gloom,

From Distemper's midnight anguish;
The Ode commences with an Address to the Divine And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish,
Providence, that regulates into one vast harmony all

Or where, his two bright torches blending,

Love illuminez manhood's maze ; he events of time, however calamitous some of them

Or where, o'er cradled infants bending, • This Ode was composed on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days

Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze, of December, 1796; and was first published on the last day of

Hither, in perplexed dance, that year.

Ye Woes ! ye young-eyed Joys! advance'


By Time's wild harp, and by the hand

“ Thou in stormy blackness throning
Whose indefatigable sweep

Love and uncreated Light,
Raises its fateful strings from sleep,

By the Earth's unsolaced groaning,
I bid you haste, a mix'd tumultuous band !

Seize thy terrors, Arm of might!
From every private bower,

By Peace with profler'd insult sacred,
And each domestic hearth,

Masked late and envying Scorn!
Haste for one solemn hour ;

By Years of Havoc yet unborn!
And with a loud and yet a louder voice,

And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds barel! O'er Nature struggling in portentous birth

But chief by Afric's wrongs,
Weep and rejoice!

Strange, horrible, and foul !
Still echoes the dread Name that o'er the earth

By what deep guilt belongs Let slip the storm, and woke the brood of Hell :

To the deaf Synod, · full of gifts and lies" And now advance in saintly Jubilee

By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl! Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell,

Avenger, rise ! They too obey thy name, Divinest Liberty !

For ever shall the thankless Island scowl,

Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow?

Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven, O speak aloud III.

And on the darkling foe I mark'd Ambition in his war-array!

Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud! I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry- O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow! “ Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay! The past to thee, to thee the future cries! Groans not her chariot on its onward way?"

Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans low! Fly, mailed Monarch, fly!

Rise, God of Nature! rise."
Stunn'd by Death's twice mortal mace,

No more on Murder's lurid face
The insatiate hag shall gloat with drunken eye!

Manes of the unnumber'd slain !
Ye that gasp'd on Warsaw's plain!

The voice had ceased, the vision fled ;
Ye that erst at Ismail's tower,

Yet still I gasp'd and reel'd with dread. When human ruin choked the streams,

And ever, when the dream of night Fell in conquest's glutted hour,

Renews the phantom to my sight, 'Mid women's shrieks and infants' screams!

Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs ; Spirits of the uncoflin'd slain,

My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start; Sudden blasts of triumph swelling,

My brain with horrid tumult swires ; Oft, at night, in misty train,

Wild is the tempest of my heart ; Rush around her narrow dwelling!

And my thick and struggling breath The exterminating fiend is fled

Imitates the toil of Death ! (Foul her life, and dark her doom)

No stronger agony consounds Mighty armies of the dead

The Soldier on the war-field spread, Dance like death-fires round her tomb!

When all foredone with toil and wounds, Then with prophetic song relate,

Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead Each some tyrani-murderer's fate!

(The strise is o'er, the day-light fed,

And the night-wind clamors hoarse !

See! the starting wretch's head

Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse !)
Departing Year! 't was on no earthly shore

My soul beheld thy vision! Where alone,
Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne,

Aye Memory sits : thy robe inscribed with gore, Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile,
With many an unimaginable groan

O Albion! O my mother Isle !
Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued,

Thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers, Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude,

Glitter green with sunny showers; Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with

Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells glories shone.

Echo to the bleat of flocks Then, his eye wild ardors glancing,

(Those grassy hills, those glittering dells From the choired Gods advancing,

Proudly ramparted with rocks); The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet, And Ocean, 'mid his uproar wild And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat.

Speaks safety to his ISLAND-CHILD!

Hence, for many a fearless age

Has social Quiet loved thy shore !

Nor ever proud Invader's rage
Throughout the blissful throng, -
Hush'd were harp and song :

Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with goro Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven (The mystic Words of Heaven),

VIII. Permissive signal make : The servent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and Abandond of Heaven! mad Avarice thy guide, spake!

At cowardly distance yet kindling with pride

'Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast The Monarchs march'd in evil day, stood,

And Britain joined the dire array ; And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood ! Though dear her shores and circling ocean, The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering Though many friendships, many youthful loves

Shall hear Destruction, like a Vulture, scream! Had swoln the patriot emotion,

Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves; Of central fires through nether seas upthundering Yet still my voice, unalter'd, sang defeat

Soothes her fierce solitude; yet, as she lies To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,

And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat! If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,

For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise,

I dimm'd thy light or damp'd thy holy flame; The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, But bless'd the pæans of deliver'd France, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.




Away, my soul, away!

“ And what," I said, “though Blasphemy's loud screaro In vain, in vain, the Birds of warning sing- With that sweet music of deliverance strove! And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey

Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind! A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream! Away, my soul, away!

Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, I, unpartaking of the evil thing,

The Sun was rising, though he hid his light!
With daily prayer and daily toil

And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and
Soliciting for food my scanty soil,

trembled, Have wail'd my country with a loud lament. The dissonance ceased, and all seem'd calm and Now I recentre my immortal mind

bright; In the deep sabbath of meek self-content;

When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim

Conceald with clustering wreaths of glory; God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.

When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp;

While timid looks of fury glancing,
Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,

Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;

Then I reproach'd my fears that would not flee; " And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore In the low huts of them that toil and groan!

And, conquering by her happiness alone,

Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,

Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth

their own." Whose pathless march no mortal may control!

Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws!

IV. Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds' singing, Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!

Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sentHave made a solemn music of the wind !

I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams! Where, like a man beloved of God,

Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd Through glooms, which never woodman trod, And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows How oft, pursuing fancies holy,

With bleeding wounds; forgive me that I cherishd My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes ! Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,

To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound! Where Peace her jealous home had built,
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!

A patriot race to disinherit
And 0 ye Clouds that far above me soar'd! or all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!

And with inexpiable spirit
Yea, every thing that is and will be free! To thint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,

O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, With what deep worship I have still ador'd And patriot only in pernicious toils ! The spirit of divinest Liberty.

Are these thy boasts, Champion of human-kind ?

To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway, II.

Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,

To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils And with that oath, which smote air, earth and sea,

From Freemen torn; to tempt and to betray ? Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free,

Bear witness for me, how I hoped and fear'd!
With what a joy my lofty gratulation

The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band :

Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,

They burst their manacles and wear the name Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,

Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain !

O Liberty! with profitless endeavor

And all the crash of onset; fear and rage, Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;

And undetermined conflict-even now, But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever Even now, perchance, and in his native isle ; Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power. Carnage and groans beneath this blessed Sun!

Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee We have offended, Oh! my countrymen! (Not prayer nor boastful name delays thee), We have offended very grievously,

Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, And been most tyrannous. From east to west And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves, A groan of accusation pierces Heaven! Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,

The wretched plead against us; multitudes The guide of homeless winds, and playmates of the Countless and vehement, the Sons of God, waves !

Our Brethren! Like a cloud that travels on, And there I felt thee!-on that sea-cliff's verge, Steam'd up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,

Whose pines, scarce travell’d by the breeze above, Even so, my countrymen! have we gone forth Had made one murmur with the distant surge! And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs, Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, With slow perdition murders the whole man, Possessing all things with intensest love, His body and his soul! Meanwhile, at home, O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.

All individual dignity and power

Ingulf'd in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
February, 1797.

Associations and Societies,
A vain, speech-mouthing, speech-reporting Guild,
One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery,
We have drunk up, demure as at a grace,

Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth ;

Contemptuous of all honorable rule,

Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life WRITTEN IN APRIL, 1798, DURING THE ALARM OF For gold, as at a market! The sweet words

Of Christian promise, words that even yet

Might stem destruction were they wisely preachd, A GREEN and silent spot, amid the hills,

Are mutter'd o'er by men, whose tones proclaim A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place

How flat and wearisome they feel their trade: No sinking sky-lark ever poised himself.

Rank scoffers some, but most too indolent The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,

To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth. Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,

Oh! blasphemous! the book of life is made All golden with the never-bloomless furze,

A superstitious instrument, on which Which now blooms most profusely; but the dell,

We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break; Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate

For all must swear-all and in every place, As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,

College and wharf, council and justice-court; When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,

All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed, The level Sunshine glimmers with green light

Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest, Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook!

The rich, the poor, the old man and the young ; Which all, meihinks, would love; but chiefly he,

All, all make up one scheme of perjury, The humble man, who, in his youthful years,

That faith doth reel ; the very name of God Knew just so much of folly, as had made

Sounds like a juggler's charm; and, bold with joy His early manhood more securely wise !

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, Here he might lie on fern or wither'd heath,

(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism, While from the singing-lark (that sings unseen

Sailing on obscene wings athwart ihe noon, The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),

Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, And from the Sun, and from the breezy Air,

And hooting at the glorious Sun in Heaven,
Sweet influences trembled o’er his frame;

Cries out, - Where is it?”
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found

Thankless too for peace Religious meanings in the forms of nature ! (Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas) And so, his senses gradually wrapt

Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
In a half-sleep, he dreams of better worlds, To swell the war-whoop, passionaie for war!
And dreaming hears thee still, O) singing-lark ! Alas! for ages ignorant of all
'That singest like an angel in the clouds !

Its ghastlier workings (famine or blue plague,
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows),

We, this whole people, have been clamorous
My God! it is a melancholy thing

For war and bloodshed ; animating sports,
For such a man, who would full fain preserve | The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel Spectators and not combatants ? No guess
For all his human brethren-O my God!

Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think No speculation or contingency,
What uproar and what strise may now be stirring However dim and vague, 100 vague and dim
This way or that way o'er these silent hills- To yield a justifying cause; and forth
Tuvasion, and the thunder and the shout,

(Stuffd out with big preamble, holy names.

And adjurations of the God in Heaven),

On which our vice and wretchedness were tagg’d We send our mandates for the certain death Like fancy points and fringes, with the robe Of thousands and ten thousands ! Boys and girls, Pullid off at pleasure. Fondly these attach And women, that would groan to see a child A radical causation to a few Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war,

Poor drudges of chastising Providence, The best amusement for our morning-meal! Who borrow all their hues and qualities The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers From our own folly and rank wickedness, From curses, who knows scarcely words enough Which gave them birth and nursed them. Others, To ask a blessing from bis Heavenly Father,

meanwhile, Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute

Dote with a mad idolatry; and all And technical in victories and defeats,

Who will not fall before their images,
And all our dainty terms for fratricide ;

And yield them worship, they are enemies
Terns which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues Even of their country!
Like mere abstractions, empty sounds, to which
We join no feeling and attach no form!
As if the soldier died without a wound;

Such have I been deem'dAs if the fibres of this godlike frame

But, О dear Britain! O my Mother Isle ! Were gored without a pang; as if the wretch,

Needs must thou prove a name most dear and holy Who fell in baule, doing bloody deeds,

To me, a son, a brother, and a friend, Pass'd off to Heaven, translated and not kill'd :

A husband, and a father! who revere

All bonds of natural love, and find them all
As though he had no wife to pine for him,
No God to judge him! Therefore, evil days

Within the limits of thy rocky shores.
Are coming on us, O my countrymen!

O native Britain! O my Mother Isle ! And what if all-avenging Providence,

How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and Strong and retributive, should make us know

holy The meaning of our words, force us to feel

To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills, The desolation and the agony

Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas, Of our fiercé doings!

Have drunk in all my intellectual life,
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts,

All adoration of the God in nature,
Spare us yet awhile,

All lovely and all honorable things,
Father and God! O! spare us yet awhile!

Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel Oh! let not English women drag their flight

The joy and greatness of its future being? Fainting beneath the burthen of their babes,

There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul of the sweet infants, that but yesterday

Unborrow'd from my country. O divine Laugh'd at the breast! Sons, brothers, husbands, all And beauteous island! thou hast been my sole Who ever gazed with fondness on the forms

And most magnificent temple, in the which
Which grew up with you round the same fire-side, I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs,
And all who ever heard the sabbath-bells

Loving the God that made me!
Without the infidel's scorn, make yourselves pure!
Stand forth : be men! repel an impious foe,

May my fears,
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race,

My filial fears, be vain! and may the vaunts
Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth And menace of the vengeful enemy
With deeds of murder; and still promising

Pass like the gust, that roar'd and died away
Freedom, themselves tou sensual to be free,

In the distant tree: which heard, and only heard Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart

In this low dell, bow'd not the delicate grass.
Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes
And all that lists the spirit! Sland we forth;
Render them back upon the insulted ocean,

But now the gentle dew-fall sends abroad
And let them toss as idly on its waves

The fruit-like perfume of the golden furze :
As the vile sea-weed, which some mountain-blast The light has left the summit of the hill,
Swept from our shores! And oh! may we return Though still a sunny gleam lies beautiful,
Not with a drunken triumph, but with fear, Aslant the ivied beacon. Now farewell,
Repenting of the wrongs with which we stung Farewell, awhile, O soft and silent spot!
So fierce a foe to frenzy!

On the green sheep-track, up the heathy hill,
Homeward I wind my way; and lo! recall'd

From bodings that have well-nigh wearied me,
I have told,

I find myself upon the brow, and pause O Britons! O my brethren! I have told

Startled! And after lonely sojourning Most bitler truth, but without bitterness.

In such a quiet and surrounding nook, Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed; This burst of prospect, here the shadowy main, For never can true courage dwell with them, Dim-tinted, there the mighty majesty Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look

Of that huge amphitheatre of rich At their own vices. We have been too long And elmy fields, seems like societyDupes of a deep delusion! Some, belike,

Conversing with the mind, and giving it
Groaning with restless enmity, expect

A livelier impulse and a dance of thought!
All change from change of constituted power; And now, beloved Stowey! I behold
As if a Government had been a robe,

Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elma
D 2


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