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Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes,
Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods.
Aspiring to be Gods, if Angels fell,
Aspiring to be Angels, men rebel:
And who but wishes to invert the laws
Of ORDER, sins against th' Eternal Cause.


Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away;
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath;
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring.

Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly,
Oh Grave! where is thy victory!

Oh Death! where is thy sting!


"Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose! Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes? Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph-wings. O Solitude! the man who thee foregoes, When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.

"Vain man! is grandeur given to gay attire?
Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid :-
To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire?
It is thy weakness that requires their aid :-
To palaces, with gold and gems inlaid ?

They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm :-
To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade?
Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm!
Behold what deeds of woe the locust can perform!
"True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind
Virtue has raised above the things below;
Who, every hope and fear to Heaven resign'd,
Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow!"-
This strain, from 'midst the rocks, was heard to flow
In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star;
And from embattled clouds, emerging slow,
Cynthia came riding on her silver car;
And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.


Thou lingering star, with lessening ray,
That lovest to greet the early morn,
Again thou usherest in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.
Oh Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hearest thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget!—
Can I forget the hallowed grove,
Where by the winding Ayr, we met,
To live one day of parting love!
Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past!
Thy image at our last embrace :-

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,

O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;

The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
The flowers sprung wanton to be pressed;
The birds sung love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaimed the speed of winged day.
Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods, with miser care:
Time but the impression deeper makes-
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy blissful place of rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hearest thou the groans that rend his breast?


I saw thy form in youthful prime,
Nor thought that pale decay
Would steal before the steps of time,
And waste its bloom away.
Yet still thy features wore the light,
Which fleets not with the breath,
And life ne'er looked more truly bright
Than in thy smile of death!

As streams that run o'er golden mines,
Yet humbly, calmly glide;

Nor seem to know the wealth that shines,
Within their gentle tide.

So veiled beneath the simplest guise
Thy radiant genius shone,
And that, which charmed all other eyes,
Seemed worthless in thy own.

If souls could always dwell above,
Thou ne'er had'st left that sphere;
Or could we keep the souls we love,
We ne'er had lost thee here.
Though many a gifted mind we meet,
Though fairest forms we see ;

To live with them is far less sweet,
Than to remember thee-Mary!


Oh thou vast Ocean! ever-sounding sea!
Thou symbol of a drear immensity!

Thou thing that windest round the solid world
Like a huge animal, which, downward hurled
From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone,
Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone.
Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep
Is like a giant's slumber, loud and deep.
Thou speakest in the east and in the west
At once, and on thy heavily laden breast
Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life
Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife.
The earth hath nought of this; nor chance nor change
Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare

Give answer to the tempest-waken air;
But o'er its wastes, the weekly tenants range
At will, and wound his bosom as they go.
Ever the same it hath no ebb, no flow;
But in their stated round the seasons come
And pass like visions to their viewless home,
And come again and vanish: the young Spring
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming,
And Winter always winds his sullen horn,
And the wild Autumn with a look forlorn
Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies
eep, and flowers sicken when the Summer flies.
-Thou only, terrible Ocean, hast a power,
A will, a voice, and in thy wrathful hour,
When thou dost lift thine anger to the clouds,
A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds
Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be driven
Backwards and forwards by the shifting wind,
How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind,
And stretch thine arms, and war at once with heaven!

Thou trackless and immeasurable main!
On thee no record ever lived again,

To meet the hand that writ it; line nor lead
Hath ever fathomed thy profoundest deeps,
Where haply the huge monster swells and sleeps,
King of his watery limit, who 'tis said
Can move the mighty ocean into storm.-
Oh! wonderful thou art, great element;
And fearful in thy spleeny humours bent.
And lovely in repose: thy summer form
Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves,
I love to wander on thy pebbled beach,
Marking the sunlight at the evening hour,
And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach
"Eternity, Eternity, and Power."

THE CLOUD.-Shelley.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet birds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain,

And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,

And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,
Lightning my pilot sits;

In a cavern under, is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;

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