It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;

5 The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea:

Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder-everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl; that walkest with
me here,2

10 If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,

Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom3 all the year;

And worshipp'st at the temple's inner shrine,

God being with thee when we know it

10

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLICI 1802 1807

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee;

And was the safeguard of the West: the worth

Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty.

5 She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea.2 And what if she had seen those glories fade,

Those titles vanish, and that strength

decay;

Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day:

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade

Of that which once was great is passed

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this
hour:

England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and
bower,1

5 Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom,
power.

Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart; 10 Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like

15

20

O blessèd vision! happy child!
Thou art so exquisitely wild,

I think of thee with many fears

For what may be thy lot in future years.

I thought of times when Pain might be
thy guest,

Lord of thy house and hospitality;
And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest

But when she sate within the touch of thee.
O too industrious folly!

O vain and causeless melancholy!

Nature will either end thee quite;

Or, lengthening out thy season of delight,
Preserve for thee, by individual right,
A young lamb's heart among the full-
grown flocks.

25 What hast thou to do with sorrow,
Or the injuries of tomorrow?
Thou art a dewdrop, which the morn
brings forth,

Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks,
Or to be trailed along the soiling earth;
30 A gem that glitters while it lives,
And no forewarning gives;

But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife
Slips in a moment out of life.

TO THE DAISY 1802 1807

In youth from rock to rock I went,
From hill to hill in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent,

Most pleased when most uneasy; 5 But now my own delights I make,My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly, Nature's love partake Of thee, sweet Daisy!

Thee, Winter in the garland wears 10 That thinly decks his few gray hairs; Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee;

Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy wight!

15 Doth in thy crimson head delight

When rains are on thee.