Peace to the just man's memory; let it grow Greener with years, and blossom through the flight Of ages; let the mimic canvas show
His calm benevolent features; let the light Stream on his deeds of love, that shunned the sight Of all but heaven, and in the book of fame, The glorious record of his virtues write, And hold it up to men, and bid them claim
A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame
But oh, despair not of their fate who rise
To dwell upon the earth when we withdraw! Lo! the same shaft by which the righteous dies, Strikes through the wretch that scoffed at mercy's law And trode his brethren down, and felt no awe Of Him who will avenge them. Stainless worth, Such as the sternest age of virtue saw, Ripens, meanwhile, till time shall call it forth From the low modest shade, to light and bless the earth
Has Nature, in her calm, majestic march Faltered with age at last? does the bright sun Grow dim in heaven? or, in their far blue arch, Sparkle the crowd of stars, when day is done, Less brightly? when the dew-lipped Spring comes ɔn, Breathes she with airs less soft, or scents the sky With flowers less fair than when her reign begun! Does prodigal Autumn, to our age, deny
The plenty that once swelled beneath his sober eye;
Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth In her fair page; see, every season brings New change, to her, of everlasting youth; Still the green soil, with joyous living things,
Swarms, the wide air is full of joyous wings, And myriads, still, are happy in the sleep Of ocean's azure gulfs, and where he flings The restless surge. Eternal Love doth keep In his complacent arms, the earth, the air, the deep.
Will then the merciful One, who stamped our race With his own image, and who gave them sway O'er earth, and the glad dwellers on her face, Now that our swarming nations far away
Are spread, where'er the moist earth drinks the day Forget the ancient care that taught and nursed His latest offspring? will he quench the ray Infused by his own forming smile at first,
And leave a work so fair all blighted and accursed?
Oh, no! a thousand cheerful omens give
Hope of yet happier days, whose dawn is nigh. He who has tamed the elements, shall not live The slave of his own passions; he whose eye Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, And in the abyss of brightness dares to span The sun's broad circle, rising yet more high, In God's magnificent works his will shall scan- And love and peace shall make their paradise with
Sit at the feet of history-through the night Of years the steps of virtue she shall trace. And show the earlier ages, where her sight Can pierce the eternal shadows o'er their face;- When, from the genial cradle of our race,
Went forth the tribes of men, their pleasant lot To choose, where palm-groves cooled their dwelling place,
Or freshening rivers ran; and there forgot The truth of heaven, and kneeled to gods that heard them not.
Then waited not the murderer for the night, But smote his brother down in the bright day, And he who felt the wrong, and had the might, His own avenger, girt himself to slay; Beside the path the unburied carcass lay, The shepherd, by the fountains of the glen, Fled, while the robber swept his flock away, And slew his babes. The sick, untended then, Languished in the damp shade, and died afar from men
But misery brought in love; in passion's strife Man gave his heart to mercy, pleading long, And sought out gentle deeds to gladden life; The weak, against the sons of spoil and wrong, Banded, and watched their hamlets, and grew strong. States rose, and, in the shadow of their might, The timid rested. To the reverent throng,
Grave and time-wrinkled men, with locks all white, Gave laws, and judged their strifes, and taught the way of right;
Till bolder spirits seized the rule, and nailed On men the yoke that man should never bear, And drove them forth to battle. Lo! unveiled The scene of those stern ages! What is there! A boundless sea of blood, and the wild air Moans with the crimson surges that entomb Cities and bannered armies; forms that wear The kingly circlet rise, amid the gloom,
O'er the dark wave, and straight are swallowed in its womb.
Those ages have no memory, but they left A record in the desert-columns strown On the waste sands, and statues fallen and cleft, Heaped like a host in battle overthrown; Vast ruins, where the mountain's ribs of stone Were hewn into a city; streets that spread In the dark earth, where never breath has blown Of heaven's sweet air, nor foot of man dares tread The long and perilous ways-the Cities of the Dead
And tombs of monarchs to the clouds up-piled- They perished, but the eternal tombs remain- And the black precipice, abrupt and wild, Pierced by long toil and hollowed to a fane;- Huge piers and frowning forms of gods sustain The everlasting arches, dark and wide,
Like the night-heaven, when clouds are black with rain But idly skill was tasked, and strength was plied, All was the work of slaves to swell a despot's pride.
And Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke; She left the down-trod nations in disdain, And flew to Greece, when Liberty awoke, New-born, amid those glorious vales, and broke Sceptre and chain with her fair youthful hands: As rocks are shivered in the thunder-stroke. And lo! in full-grown strength, an empire stands Of leagued and rival states, the wonder of the lands
Oh, Greece! thy flourishing cities were a spoil Unto each other; thy hard hand oppressed And crushed the helpless; thou didst make thy soil Drunk with the blood of those that loved thee best;
And thou didst drive, from thy unnatural breast. Thy just and brave to die in distant climes; Earth shuddered at thy deeds, and sighed for rest From thine abominations; after times,
That yet shall read thy tale, will tremble at thy crimes
Yet there was that within thee which has saved Thy glory, and redeemed thy blotted name; The story of thy better deeds, engraved On fame's unmouldering pillar, puts to shame Our chiller virtue; the high art to tame The whirlwind of the passions was thine own; And the pure ray, that from thy bosom came, Far over many a land and age has shone,
And mingles with the light that beams from God's own throne.
And Rome-thy sterner, younger sister, she Who awed the world with her imperial frown- Rome drew the spirit of her race from thee, The rival of thy shame and thy renown. Yet her degenerate children sold the crown Of earth's wide kingdoms to a line of slaves;
Guilt reigned, and wo with guilt, and plagues came down,
Till the north broke its floodgates, and the waves Whelmed the degraded race, and weltered o'er their
Vainly that ray of brightness from above, That shone around the Galilean lake, The light of hope, the leading star of love, Struggled, the darkness of that day to break; Even its own faithless guardians strove to slake, In fogs of earth, the pure ethereal flame; And priestly hands, for Jesus' blessed sake,
« 上一頁繼續 » |