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A melancholy echo of that noise

Doth sometimes hang on musing Fancy's ear:

Ah! that a conqueror's word should be so dear;

Ah! that a boon could shed such rapturous joys?

A gift of that which is not to be given

By all the blended powers of earth and heaven.

When, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn The tidings passed of servitude repealed, And that of joy which shook the Isthmian field. The rough ^Etolians smiled with bitter scorn. "'Tis known," cried they, "that he who would adorn His envied temples with the Isthmian crown, Must either win, through effort of his own. The prize, or be content to see it worn By more deserving brows. Yet so ye prop, Sons of the brave who fought at Marathon! Your feeble spirits. Greece her head hath bowed, As if the wreath of Liberty thereon Would fix itself as smoothly as a cloud, Which, at Jove's will, descends on Pelion's top."


Clarkson! it was an obstinate hill to climb:
How toilsome, nay, how dire it was, by thee
Is known—by none, perhaps, so feelingly;
But thou, who, starting in thy fervent prime,
Didst first lead forth this pilgrimage sublime.
Hast heard the constant voice its charge repeat,
Which, out of thy young heart's oracular seat.
First roused thee. Oh, true yoke-fellow of Tim*
rith unabating effort, see the palm
won, and by all nations shall be worn I

The bloody writing is for ever torn,
And thou henceforth shalt have a good man's calm,
A great man's happiness; thy zeal shall find
Repose at length, firm friend of human kind!


High deeds, O Germans, are to come from you!
Thus in your books the record shall be found :—
"A watchword was pronounced, a potent sound,
Aeminius!—all the people quaked like dew
Stirred by the breeze—they rose a nation, true,
True to herself—the mighty Germany,
She of the Danube and the Northern sea,
She rose, and off at once the yoke she threw.
All power was given her in the dreadful trance;
Those new-born kings she withered like a flame."
Woe to them all! but heaviest woe and shame
To that Bavarian who did first advance
His banner in accursed league with France,
First open traitor to a sacred name!


Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars

Through the gray west; and lo! these waters, steeled

By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield

A vivid repetition of the stars;

Jove—Venus—and the ruddy crest of Mars,

Amid his fellows beauteously revealed

At happy distance from earth's groaning field,

Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.

Is it a mirror? or the nether sphere

Opening to view the abyss in which it feeds

Its own calm fires? But list! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
"Be thankful, thou; for if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!"


Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character, would trace
Of the rash spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
See, at her call the Tower of Babel rise;
The Pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an airy name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act,
See the first mighty hunter leave the brute
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime, high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!


Not mid the world's vain objects 1 that enslave

The free-born soul—that world whose vaunted skilL

In selfish interest perverts the will,

Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave;

Not there! but in dark wood and rocky cave,

And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill

With omnipresent murmur as they rave

Down their steep beds, that never shall be still:

Here, mighty Nature 1 in this school sublime

I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain:

For her consult the auguries of time,
And through the human heart explore my way,
And look and listen—gathering, whence I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.

I dropped my pen: and listened to the wind
That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tossed;
A midnight harmony, and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Of business, care, or pleasure, or resigned
To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain,
Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,
Like acceptation from the world will find.
Vet some with apprehensive ear shall drink
A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past,
And to the attendant promise will give heed—
The prophecy—like that of this wild blast,
Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink,
Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.


Of mortal parents is the hero bor n

By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led?

Or is it Tell's great spirit, from the dead

Returned to animate an age forlorn?

He comes like Phcebus through the gates of morn

When dreary darkness is discomfited:

Vet mark his modest state! upon his head,

That simple crest, a heron's plume is worn.

O Liberty! they stagger at the shock;

The murderers are aghast; they strive to flee,

And half their host is buried: rock on rock

Descends: heneath this godlike warrior, see!

Hills, torrents, woods, embodied to bemock

The tyrant, and confound his cruelty.


Advance—come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,
Dear Liberty! stern nymph of soul untamed,
Sweet nymph, oh, rightly of the mountains named,
Through the long chain of Alps from mound to mouci
And o'er the eternal snows, like Echo, bound—
Like Echo, when the hunter-train at dawn
Have roused her from her sleep: and forest-lawn,
Cliffs, woods, and caves her viewless steps resound,
And babble of her pastime! On, dread power!
With such invisible motion speed thy flight,
Through hanging clouds, from craggy height to height,
Through the green vales and thro' the herdsman's bower,
That all the Alps may gladden in thy might,
Here, there, and in all places at one hour.


The land we from our fathers had in trust,

And to our children will transmit, or die:

This is our maxim, this our piety;

And God and Nature say that it is just.

That which we would perform in arms—we must!

We read the dictate in the infant's eye;

In the wife's smile; and in the placid sky;

And, at our feet, amid the silent dust

Of them that were before us. Sing aloud

Old songs, the precious music of the heart!

Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wind!

While we go forth a self-devoted crowd,

With weapons in the fearless hand, to assert

Our virtue and to vindicate mankind.

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