LINES Written in the Middle of a Night in February 1807, during the whole of which Night blew a tremendous Hurricane. W RAPT in the dusky gloom of night The Genius of the Storm; * Trembles the wretch with wild affright, Ill fated they, from Albion torn, Father of heaven! whose outstretch'd arm While whirlwinds make with dire alarm * Shakspeare, King Lear. + Within which the author was living. H. P. IRREGULAR ODE. ON THE DEATH OF THE EMPRESS CATHARINE II. OF RUSSIA. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. GRAY. HARK to that pæan song, whose choral lay And now, how wild and warlike ring! List, Russia, to its notes so sweet Winding amid each green retreat, That now, in more than mortal strain, From Tenglio's chill and storm-rock'd clime afar, From the bleak regions of the polar star, To where Circassia's beauties lave Amid the Caspian's mimic wave, From Warsaw's ruin'd towers and gory plain, O'er many a frowning cliff and hill sublime, Symphonious float on echo's viewless wing. I know her mien; I know her zoneless breast; I know the laurel-wreath that binds her brow,' How pure its grace. Lur'd from the mountain's snow-clad breast, Opes at thy blythe approach, and scents its native vale : And Virtue leaves her haunts, and quaffs thy balmy air. Fall'n is ambition; and her tottering fanes And flattery's voice, and flattery's soothing strains, Swart Satan left his ebon throne; And, as in all her vices drest, Her pale and haggard form he prest, In parent's pride elate, A few faint rays of unknown joy Came flashing from his piercing eye, And, for awhile, eclipsed its beams of deadly hate. Then, while th' infernal regions rung, In vice's agonizing smart, Clasp❜d to her breast the child she singled for her own. She lives no more! Distain'd with gore, Beneath yon stone her paly corse is laid; While each poor soul that passes by, Victim of lawless tyranny, Calls on her loathed name, and imprecates her shade. The hoary pilgrim slow, with faltering tread And, as he lists her awful doom, Rears his clasp'd hands, and shakes his silver head. "Is this the dust an empire once could sway, "That once stalk'd proudly o'er fair Russia's land; "A queen, who said, World, hear me, and obey+;' "Who slaughter'd millions with remorseless hand?— "How fallen, fallen, from her high estate:'"Due homage paid her in the realms of fate! * Milton thus accents the word Hecate in the following marginal distich. "Wherein thou rid'st with Hecate, Vide Newton's Ed. vol. iv. p. 102. ↑ “Who said'st the distant poles shall hear me, and obey." Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, DRYDEN. "There, enthron'd amidst her peers, "And, as they weave the woof of fate, "And wakes in every nerve the pang of keen despair. "Is this the queen at whose command, "Starting like bloodhounds from the slip, "With speed that would the winds outstrip, Rapine and war stalk'd o'er Podolia's land? "Yes, 'tis the same: but, now, no more "Shall stern captivity protect the door, "Where virtue*, suff'ring in her country's cause, "Her rightful freedom supplicates in vain ; "No more shall patriot worth complain, "As when, of erst, in each long pause, "The gaunt, grim spectre of insatiate power, "Strode through the chilly vaults, and hail'd the murky hour." "The knell + of death, with stern control, General Kosciusko. + It is said, that for many years preceding her death, Catherine could not hear any funeral knell, nor be witness to any funeral procession, without evincing the greatest horror. Wherefore, those rites had been lately performed at midnight. |