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See Roman fire in Hampden's bosom swell, Lo! once in triumph, on his boundless And fate and freedom in the shaft of Tell!
plain, Say, ye fond zealots to the worth of yore, The quivered chief of Congo loved to reign; Hath Valour left the world to live no more? With fires proportioned to his native sky, No more shall Brutus bid a tyrant die, Strength in his arm, and lightning in his eye; And sternly smile with vengeance in his eye? Scoured with wild feet his sun-illumined Hampden no more, when suffering Freedom
The spear, the lion, and the woods, his own; Encounter fate, and triumph as he falls? Or led the combat, bold without a plan, Nor Tell disclose, through peril and alarm, An artless savage, but a fearless man! The might that slumbers in a peasant's arm? The plunderer camel-alas! no glory Yes! in that generous cause, for ever
For Congo's chief on yonder Indian isles; The patriot's virtue and the poet's song, For ever fallen! no son of Nature now, Still, as the tide of ages rolls away, With freedom chartered on his manly brow! Shall charm the world, unconscious of decay! Faint, bleeding, bound, he weeps the night Yes! there are hearts, prophetic Ilope
away, may trust,
And when the sea-wind wafts the dewless day, That slumber yet uncreated dust,
Starts, with a bursting heart, for ever more Ordained to fire th'adoring sons of earth To curse the sun that lights their guilty With every charm of wisdom and of worth;
shore ! Ordained to light, with intellectual day, The shrill horn blew; at that alarum-knell The mazy wheels of Nature as they play, His guardian angel took a last farewell! Or, warm with Fancy's energy, to glow, That funeral dirge to darkness hath resigned And rival all but Shakspeare's name below! The fiery grandeur of a generous mind!
And say, supernal Powers! who deeply scan Poor fettered man! I hear thee whispering Heaven's dark decrees, unfathomed yet by
Unhallowed vows to Guilt, the child of Woe! When shall the world call down, to cleanse Friendless thy heart; and canst thou harher shame,
bour there That embryo-spirit, yet without a name,- A wish but death-a passion but despair? That friend of Nature, whose avenging The widowed Indian, when her lord expires,
Mounts the dread pile and braves the funeral Shall burst the Lybian's adamantine bands?
fires ! Who, sternly marking on his native soil So falls the heart at Thraldom’s bitter sigh! The blood, the tears, the anguish, and the So Virtue dies, the spouse of Liberty?
But not to Libya's barren climes alone, Shall bid each righteous heart exult, to see To Chili, or the wild Siberian zone, Peace to the slave, and vengeance on the Belong the wretched heart and haggard eye,
Degraded worth, and poor misfortune's Yet, yet, degraded men! th' expected day
sigh That breaks your bitter cup, is far away; Ye Orient realms, where Ganges' waters run! Trade, wealth, and fashion, ask you still Prolific fields! dominions of the sun!
How long your tribes have trembled and And holy men give scripture for the deed;
obeyed ! Scourged, and debased, no Briton stoops to How long was Timour's iron sceptre swayed!
Whose marshalled hosts, the lions of the A wretch, a coward ; yes, because a slave!
plain, Eternal Nature! when thy giant hand From Scythia's northern mountains to the Had heaved the floods, and fixed the tremb
main, ling land,
Raged o'er your plundered shrines and altars When life sprung startling at thy plastic call,
bare, Endless hier forms, and man the lord of all! With blazing torch and gory scymitar,Say, was that lordly form inspired by thee, Stunnd with the cries of death each gentle To wear eternal chains and bow the knee?
gale, Was man ordained the slave of man to toil, And bathed in blood the verdure of the vale! Yoked with the brutes, and fettered to the Yet could no pangs the immortal spirit tame,
When Brama's children perished for his name; Weighed in a tyrant's balance with his gold? The martyr smiled beneath avenging power, No!--Nature stamped 06 in a heavenly And braved the tyrant in his torturing hour!
When Europe sought your subject realms She bade no wretch his thankless labour urge,
to gain, Nor, trembling, take the pittance and the And stretched her giant sceptre o'er the main,
Taught her proud barks the winding way No homeless Libyan, on the stormy deep,
to shape, To call upon his country's name, and weep! And braved the stormy spirit of the Cape;
Children of Brama! then was Mercy nigh To chase destruction from her plundered To wash the stain of blood's eternal dye?
shore Did Peace descend, to triumph and to save, With arts and arms that triumphed once When freeborn Britons crossed the Indian
The tenth Avatar comes! at Heaven's comAh, no!-to more than Rome's ambition
Shall Seriswattee wave her hallowed wand ! The Nurse of Freedom gave it not to you! And Camdeo bright, and Ganesa sublime, She the bold route of Europe's guilt began, Shall bless with joy their own propitious And, in the march of nations, led the van!
clime!Rich in the gems of India's gaudy zone, Come, heavenly Powers! primeval peace And plunder piled from kingdoms not their
Love!—Mercy !-Wisdom!-rule for everDegenerate trade! thy minions could despise
more!" The heart-born anguish of a thousand cries; Could lock, with impious hands, their teem
ing store, While famished nations died along the shore; Could mock the groans of fellow-men, and
PART II. bear The curse of kingdoms peopled with despair! Could stamp disgrace on man's polluted name, In joyous youth, what soul hath never known And barter, with their gold, eternal shame! Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its But hark! as bowed to earth the Bramin
Who hath not paused while Beauty's penFrom heavenly climes propitious thunder
Asked from his heart the homage of a sigh? Of India's fate her guardian-spirits tell,
Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten Prophetic murmurs breathing on the shell,
frame, And solenın sounds that awe the listening The power of grace, the magic of a name?
There be, perhaps, who barren hearts Roll on the azure paths of every wind. “Foes of mankind ! (her guardian-spirits Cold as the rocks on Torneo’s boary brow;
There be, whose loveless wisdom never Revolving ages bring the bitter day,
failed, When Heaven's unerring arm shall fall on In self-adoring pride securely mailed :
But, triumph not, ye peace-enamoured few! And blood for blood these Indian plains Fire, Nature, Genius, never dwelt with you!
For you no Fancy consecrates the scene Nine times have Brama's wheels of light-Where rapture uttered vows, and wept ning hurled
between; His awful presence o'er the alarmed world;'Tis yours, unmoved, to sever and to meet; Nine times hath Guilt, through all his giant No pledge is sacred, and no home is sweet!
Who that would ask a heart to dulness wed, Convulsive trembled, as the Mighty came; The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead? Nine times hath suffering Mercy spared in No; the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy,
And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy! But Heaven shall burst her starry gates And say, without our hopes, without our again!
fears, He comes! dread Brama shakes the sunless Without the home that plighted love endears,
Without the smile from partial beauty won, With murmuring wrath, and thunders from Oh! what were man?-a world without a sun.
Till Hymen brought his love-delighted Heaven's fiery horse, beneath bis warrior
There dwelt no joy in Eden's rosy bower! Paws the light clouds, and gallops on the In vain the viewless seraph lingering there
At starry midnight charmed the silent air; Wide waves his flickering sword; his bright In vain the wild-bird carolled on the steep,
To hail the sun, slow wheeling from the Like summer-suns,and light the world below;
deep; Earth, and her trembling isles in Ocean's bed In vain, to soothe the solitary shade, Are sbook; and Nature rocks beneath his Aerial notes in mingling measure played ;
The summer-wind that shook the spangled "To pour redress on India's injured realm,
tree, The oppressor to dethrone, the proud to The whispering wave, the murmur of the whelm;
Still slowly passed the melancholy day, Thy pencil traces on the lover's thonght And still the stranger wist not where to Some cottage-bome, from towns and toil stray.
remote, The world was sad !- the garden was a wild! Where love and lore may claim alternate And man, the hermit, sighed-till woman
With Peace embosomed in Idalian bowers! True, the sad power to generous hearts Remote from busy Life's bewildered way,
O'er all his heart shall Taste and Beauty Delirious anguish on his fiery wing; Barred from delight by Fate's untimely hand, Free on the sunny slope, or winding shore. By wealthless lot, or pitiless command; With hermit steps to wander and adore! Or doomed to gaze on beauties that adorn There shall he love, when genial morn The smile of triumph or the frown of scorn;
appears, While Memory watches o’er the sad review, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears, Of joys that faded like the morning-dew; To watch the brightening roses of the sky, Peace may depart—and life and nature seem And muse on nature with a poet's eye!A barren path, a wildness, and a dream! And when the sun's last splendour lights But can the noble mind for ever brood,
the deep, The willing victim of a weary mood, The woods, and waves, and inurmuring On heartless cares that squander life away,
winds asleep; And cloud young Genius brightening into When fairy-harpe th’Hesperian planet hail
And the lone cuckoo sighs along the vale. Shame to the coward thought that e'er His path shall be where streamy mountains betrayed
swell The noon of manhood to a myrtle-shade!- Their shadowy grandeur o'er the narrow If Hopk's creative spirit cannot raise
dell, One trophy sacred to thy future days, Where mouldering piles and forests intervene, Scorn the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy Mingling with darker tints the living green;
No circling hills his ravished eye to bound. Of hopeless love to murmur and repine! Heaven, Earth, and Ocean, blazing all around. But, should a sigh of milder mood express The moon is up-the watch-tower dimly Thy heart-warm wishes, true to happiness,
burnsShould Heaven's fair harbinger delight to And down the vale his sober step returns;
But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey Her blissful visions on thy pensive hour, The still sweet fall of music far away; No tear to blot thy memory's pictured page, And oft he lingers from his home a while No fears but such as fancy can assuage; To watch the dying notes !-and start, and Though thy wild heart some hapless hour
Let Winter come! let polar spirits sweep The peaceful tenor of unvaried bliss, The darkening world, and tempest-troubled (For love pursues an ever-devious race,
deep! True to the winding lineaments of grace ;) Though boundless snows the withered heath Yet still may Hope her talisman employ
deform, To snatch from Heaven anticipated joy, And the dim Sun scarce wanders through the And all her kindred energies impart
storm, That burn the brightest in the purest heart. Yet shall the smile of social love repay
When first the Rhodian's mimic art array'd With mental light the melancholy day! The queen of beauty in her Cyprian shade, And, when its short and sullen noon is o'er. The happy master mingled on his piece The ice-chained waters slumbering on the Each look that charmed him in the fair of
How bright the faggots in his little hall To faultless nature true, he stole a grace Blaze on the hearth, and warm the pictured From every finer form and sweeter face;
wall! And as he sojourned on the Aegean isles, How blest he names, in Love's familiar Wooed all their love, and treasured all their
tone, smiles ;
The kind fair friend, by nature marked his Then glowed the tints, pure, precious, and
And in the wavelens mirror of his mind, And mortal charms seemed heavenly when Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind,
Since Anna's empire o'er his heart began! Love on the picture smiled! Expression Since he first called her his before the boly poured
man! Her mingling spirit there – and Greece Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome,
And light the wintry paradise of home; So thy fair hand, enamoured Fancy, gleans And let the half-uncurtained window hail The treasured pictures of a thousand scenes; Some way-worn man benighted in the vale'
Now, while the moaning night-wind rages Faint in his wounds, and shivering in the high,
blast, As sweep the shot-stars down the troubled The Swedish soldier sunk-and groaned his sky,
last! While fiery hosts in heaven's wide circle File after file the stormy showers benumb,
Freeze every standard-sheet, and hush the And bathe in lurid light the milky-way,
drum! Safe from the storm, the meteor, and the Horseman and horse confessed the bitter pang,
And arms and warriors fell with hollow Some pleasing page shall charm the solemn
Yet, ere he sunk in Nature's last repose, With pathos shall command, with wit Ere life's warm torrent to the fountain froze,
The dying man to Sweden turned his eye, A generous tear of anguish, or a smile
Thought of his home, and closed it with a Thy woes, Arion! and thy simple tale,
sigh ! O'er all the heart shall triumph and prevail! Imperial Pride looked sullen on his plight, Charmed as they read the verse too sadly And Charles beheld—nor shuddered at the true,
sight! How gallant Albert, and his weary crew, Above, below, in Ocean, Earth, and Sky, Heaved all their guns, their foundering bark Thy fairy-worlds, Imagination, lie,
And Hope attends, companion of the way, And toiled - and shrieked—and perished on Thy dream by night, thy visions of the day!
In yonder pensile orb, and every sphere Yes, at the dead of night, by Lonna's steep, That gems the starry girdle of the year; The seaman's cry was heard along the deep; In those unmeasured worlds, she bids thee There on his funeral waters, dark and wild,
tell, The dying father blest his darling child ! Pure from their God, created millions dwell, Oh, Mercy shield her innocence! he cried, Whose names and natures, unrevealed below, Spent on the prayer his bursting heart, and We yet shall learn, and wonder as we know;
For, as Iona’s saint, a giant form, Or they will learn how generous worth Throned on her towers, conversing with the sublimes
storm The robber Moor, and pleads for all his (When o’er each Runic altar, weed-entwined,
The vesper-clock tolls mournful to the wind), How poor Amelia kissed, with many a tear, Counts every wave-worn isle, and mountain His hand blood-stained, but ever, ever dear !
hoar, Hung on the tortured bosom of her lord, From Kilda to the green lerne's shore; And wept and prayed perdition from his So, when thy pure and renovated mind
This perishable dust hath left behind, Nor sought in vain! at that heart-piercing Thy seraph-eye shall count the starry train,
Like distant isles embosomed in the main; The strings of Nature cracked with agony! Rapt to the shrine where motion first began, He, with delirious laugh, the dagger hurled, And light and life in mingling torrent ran; And burst the ties that bound him to the From whence each bright rotundity was world!
hurled, Turn from his dying words, that smite The throne of God,--the centre of the world! with steel
Oh! vainly wise, the moral Muse hath The shuddering thoughts, or wind them on
sung the wheel
That suasive Hope hath but a Syren-tongue! Turn to the gentler melodies that suit True, she may sport with life's untutored Thalia's harp, or Pan's Arcadian lute;
day, Or down the stream of Truth's historic Nor heed the solace of its last decay,
The guilelens heart her happy mansion spurn, From clime to clime descend, from age to And part, like Ajut-never to return!
But yet, methinks, when Wisdom shall Yet there, perhaps, may darker scenes
The grief and passions of onr greener age, Than Fancy fashions in her wildest mood; Though dull the closc of life, and far away There shall he pause, with horrent brow, Each flower that hailed the dawning of the
to rate What millions died, that Cæsar might be Yet o'er her lovely hopes, that once were great!
dear, Or learn the fate that bleeding thousands The time-taught spirit, pensive, not severe,
With milder griefs her aged eye shall fill, Marched by their Charles to Dneiper's And weep their falsehood, though she love swampy shore;
Thus, with forgiving tears, and reconciled, | Back to its heavenly source thy being goes, The king of Judah mourned his rebel child; Swift as the comet wheels to whence he Musing on days, when yet the guiltless boy
rose; Smiled on his sire, and filled his heart with Doomed on his airy path a while to burn,
And doom'd, like thee, to travel, and return.My Absalom! the voice of Nature cried ; Hark! from the world's exploding centre Oh! that for thee thy father could have died !
driven, For bloody was the deed, and rashly done, With sounds that shook the firmament of That slew my Absalom!--my son !--my son!
heaven, Unfading Hope! when life's last embers Careers the fiery giant, fast and far,
On bickering wheels, and adamantine car; When soul to soul, and dust to dust return, From planet whirled to planet more remote, Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! He visits realms beyond the reach of thought; Oh! then, thy kingdom comes! Immortal But wheeling homeward, when his course is Power!
run, What though each spark of earth - born Curbs the red yoke,and mingles with the sun!
rapture fly So hath the traveller of earth unfurled The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing Her trembling wings, emerging from the eye!
world ; Bright to the soul thy seraph-hands convey And o'er the path by mortal never trod, The morning-dream of life's eternal day- Sprung to her source, the bosom of her God! Then, then, the triumph and the trance Oh! lives there, Heaven! beneath thy begin,
dread expanse, And all the phenix spirit burns within! One hopeless, dark idolater of chance,
Oh! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes! The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind; Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every It is a dread and awful thing to die!
trust, Mysterious worlds, untravelled by the sun! In joyless union wedded to the dust, Where Time’s far-wandering tide has never could all his parting energy dismiss,
And call this barren world sufficient bliss ?-From your unfathomed shades, and viewless There live alas! of heaven-directed mien,
Of cultured soul, and sapient cye serene, A warning comes, unheard by other ears. Who hail thee, man! the pilgrim of a day, "Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long Spouse of the worm, and brother of the and loud,
clay, Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud ! Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower, While Nature hears, with terror-mingled Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower;
A friendless slave, a child without a sire, The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust; Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he Lights to the grave his chance-created trod
form, The roaring waves, and called upon his God, As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm; With mortal terrors clouds immortal bliss, And, when the gun's tremendous flash is o’er, And shrieks, and hovers o'er the dark abyss! To night and silence sink for evermore!
Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illume Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb; Lights of the world, and demi-gods of Fame ? Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Is this your triumph--this your proud apCimmerian darkness on the parting soul!
plause, Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, Children of Truth, and champions of her Chased on his night-steed by the star of day!
cause ? The strife is o'er-the pangs of nature close, For this hath Science searched, on weary wing, And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her By shore and sea — each mute and living
thing! Hark! as the spirit eyes, with eagle-gaze, Launched with Iberia’s pilot from the steep, The noon of Heaven undazzled by the blaze, To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the On heavenly winds, that wast her to the sky,
deep? Float the sweet tones of star-born melody; Or round the cope her living chariot driven, Wild as that hallowed anthem sent to hail And wheeled in triumph through the signs Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale,
of Heaven? When Jordan hushed his waves and midnight Oh! star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered still
there, Watched on the holy tow’rs of Zion-hill! To waft us home the message of despair?
Soul of the just! companion of the dead! Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to Where is thy home, and whither art thou
Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit!