GIVE me a golden pen, and let me lean On heap'd-up flowers, in regions clear, and far Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen XI. KEEN fitful gusts are whispering here and there Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, That in a little cottage I have found; And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd. XII. To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven,—to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content. Y XIII. ADDRESSED TO HAYDON. HIGH-MINDEDNESS, a jealousy for good, A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, A money-mong'ring, pitiable brood. Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly! XIV. ADDRESSED TO THE SAME. GREAT spirits now on earth are sojourning: The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake : A meaner sound than Raphael's whispering. These, these will give the world another heart, Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb. |