And if his weird-like prayers had power to bring An influence, their power would be to curse. His hate is baleful, but his love is worseA serpent's slaver deadlier than its sting! Oh, feeble statesmen-ignominious times, That lick the tyrant's feet, and smile upon his crimes! 1832. ODE TO THE GERMANS. THE spirit of Britannia Invokes, across the main, Her sister Allemannia To burst the Tyrant's chain : By our kindred blood, she cries, Rise, Allemannians, rise, And hallow'd thrice the band Of our kindred hearts shall be, With Freedom's lion-banner Britannia rules the waves; Whilst your BROAD STONE OF HONOUR 1 1 Ehrenbreitstein signifies, in German, "the broad stone of honour." Is still the camp of slaves. Wake, Allemannians, wake, MARS owes to you his thunder1 No! the clock ye framed to tell, O'er your clime-o'er The press's magic letters, your clime! That blessing ye brought forth,— Behold! it lies in fetters On the soil that gave it birth : But the trumpet must be heard, And the charger must be spurr'd; For your father Armin's Sprite Calls down from heaven, that ye Shall gird you for the fight, And be free!—and be free! 1831. 1 Germany invented gunpowder, clock-making, and printing. LINES ON A PICTURE OF A GIRL IN THE ATTITUDE OF PRAYER. By the Artist Gruse, in the possession of Lady Stepney. Was man e'er doom'd that beauty made And dote upon a phantom. Thou maid that in my inmost thought Art fancifully sainted, Why liv'st thou not-why art thou nought Whose looks seem lifted to the skies, Too pure for love of mortals As if they drew angelic eyes To greet thee at heaven's portals. Yet loveliness has here no grace, Abstracted or ideal— Art ne'er but from a living face Drew looks so seeming real. What wert thou, maid?-thy life-thy name. Oblivion hides in mystery; Though from thy face my heart could frame A long romantic history. Transported to thy time I seem, Though dust thy coffin covers— And hear the songs, in fancy's dream, Of thy devoted lovers. How witching must have been thy breath- Adieu, the charms that vainly move Yet thee, dear picture, to have praised And shame to him that ever gazed Impassive on thy beauty. 1830. LINES ON THE VIEW FROM ST. LEONARD's. HAIL to thy face and odours, glorious Sea! "Twere thanklessness in me to bless thee not, Great beauteous Being! in whose breath and smile My heart beats calmer, and my very mind Ev'n gladly I exchange yon spring-green lanes With thee beneath my windows, pleasant Sea, The lightning's wing, too weak to sweep its space, |