POEMS OF THE IMAGINATION.

If vital hope be wanting to restore,
Or fortitude be wanting to sustain,
Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain
Of triumph, how the labouring Danube bore
A weight of hostile corses; drenched with gore
Were the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with
slain.

Yet see (the mighty tumult overpast)

Austria a Daughter of her Throne hath sold!
And her Tyrolean Champion we behold
Murdered, like one ashore by shipwreck cast,
Murdered without relief. Oh! blind as bold,
To think that such assurance can stand fast!
XIX.

BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy
flight

From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest
With heroes, 'mid the islands of the Blest,
Or in the fields of empyrean light.

A meteor wert thou crossing a dark night:
Yet shall thy name, conspicuous and sublime,
Stand in the spacious firmament of time,
Fixed as a star: such glory is thy right.
Alas! it may not be: for earthly fame
Is Fortune's frail dependent; yet there lives
A Judge who, as man claims by merit, gives;
To whose all-pondering mind a noble aim,
Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed;
In whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed.

XX.

CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate,
Who never did to Fortune bend the knee;
Who slighted fear; rejected steadfastly
Temptation; and whose kingly name and state
Have 'perished by his choice, and not his

fate!"

Hence lives He, to his inner self endeared;
And hence, wherever virtue is revered,
He sits a more exalted Potentate,

Throned in the hearts of men. Should Heaven
ordain

That this great Servant of a righteous cause Must still have sad or vexing thoughts to endure,

Yet may a sympathizing spirit pause, Admonished by these truths, and quench all pain

In thankful joy and gratulation pure.

XXI.

LOOK now on that Adventurer who hath paid
His vows to Fortune; who, in cruel slight
Of virtuous hope, of liberty, and right,
Hath followed wheresoe'er a way was made
By the blind Goddess,-ruthless, undismayed;
And so hath gained at length a prosperous
height,

Round which the elements of worldly might
Beneath his haughty feet, like clouds, are laid.
O joyless power that stands by lawless force!
Curses are his dire portion, scorn, and hate,
Internal darkness and unquiet breath;
And, ifold judgments keep their sacred course,
Him from that height shall Heaven precipitate
By violent and ignominious death.

XXII.

Is there a power that can sustain and cheer
The captive chieftain, by a tyrant's doom,
Forced to descend into his destined tomb
A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year,

And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear;
What time his injured country is a stage
Whereon deliberate Valour and the rage
Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear,
Filling from morn to night the heroic scene
With deeds of hope and everlasting praise :-
Say can he think of this with mind serene
And silent fetters? Yes, if visions bright
Shine on his soul, reflected from the days
When he himself was tried in open light.

XXIII.

1810.

AH! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor pen
Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave!
Does yet the unheard-of vessel ride the wave?
Or is she swallowed up, remote from ken
Of pitying human nature? Once again
Methinks that we shall hail thee, Champion
brave,

Redeemed to baffle that imperial Slave,
And through all Europe cheer desponding men
With new-born hope. Unbounded is the might
Of martyrdom, and fortitude, and right.
Hark, how thy Country triumphs!-Smilingly
The Eternal looks upon her sword that gleams,
Like his own lightning, over mountains high,
On rampart, and the banks of all her streams.

XXIV.

IN due observance of an ancient rite,
The rude Biscayans, when their children lie
Dead in the sinless time of infancy,
Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white;
And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright,
They bind the unoffending creature's brows
With happy garlands of the pure white rose :
Then do a festal company unite

In choral song; and, while the uplifted cross
Of Jesus goes before, the child is borne
Uncovered to his grave: 'tis closed,-her loss
The Mother then mourns, as she needs must

mourn;

But soon, through Christian faith, is grief subdued;

And joy returns, to brighten fortitude.

1810.

YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes
With firmer soul, yet labour to regain

Our ancient freedom; else 'twere worse than
vain

white rose
pure
To gather round the bier these festal shows.
A garland fashioned of the
Becomes not one whose father is a slave:
Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave!
These venerable mountains now enclose
A people sunk in apathy and fear.
If this endure, farewell, for us, all good!
The awful light of heavenly innocence
Will fail to illuminate the infant's bier;
And guilt and shame, from which is no defence,
Descend on all that issues from our blood.

POEMS OF THE IMAGINATION.

Rising like water from the soil, to find
In every nook a lip that it

XXXIII.
1811.

may

cheer.

HERE pause: the poet claims at least this
praise,

That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope
Of his pure song, which did not shrink from
hope

In the worst moment of these evil days;
From hope, the paramount duty that Heaven
lays,

For its own honour, on man's suffering heart.
Never may from our souls one truth depart-
That an accursed thing it is to gaze
On prosperous tyrants with a dazzled eye;
Nor-touched with due abhorrence of their
guilt

For whose dire ends tears flow, and blood is
spilt,

And justice labours in extremity-
Forget thy weakness, upon which is built,
O wretched man, the throne of tyranny!

XXXIV.

THE FRENCH ARMY IN RUSSIA.
1812-13.

HUMANITY, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day,
In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain,
As though his weakness were disturbed by pain:
Or, if a juster fancy should allow
An undisputed symbol of command,
The chosen sceptre is a withered bough,
Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand.
These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn;
But mighty Winter the device shall scorn.
For he it was-dread Winter! who beset,
Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net,
That host, when from the regions of the Pole
They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal-
That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied
Their God, and placed their trust in human
pride!

As fathers persecute rebellious sons,

ON THE SAME OCCASION.

YE Storms, resound the praises of your King!
And ye mild Seasons-in a sunny clime,
Midway on some high hill, while father Time
And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing!
Looks on delighted-meet in festal ring,
Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits,
and flowers,

Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety
showers,

Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass;
And the dire flapping of his hoary wing!
With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your

gain;

Whisper it to the billows of the main,
And to the aerial zephyrs as they pass,
That Host, which rendered all your bounties
That old decrepit Winter-He hath slain
vain!

XXXVI.

By Moscow self-devoted to a blaze
Of dreadful sacrifice; by Russian blood
Lavished in fight with desperate hardihood;
The unfeeling Elements no claim shall raise
To rob our Human-nature of just praise
For what she did and suffered. Pledges sure
Of a deliverance absolute and pure

She gave, if Faith might tread the beaten ways
Of Providence. But now did the Most High
Exalt his still small voice;-to quell that Host
He, whose heaped waves confounded the proud
Gathered his power, a manifest ally;
boast
Of Pharaoh, said to Famine, Snow, and Frost,
"Finish the strife by deadliest victory!"

XXXVII.

THE GERMANS ON THE HEIGHTS OF
HOCK HEIM.

ABRUPTLY paused the strife;-the field through

out

Resting upon his arms each warrior stood,
Checked in the very act and deed of blood,
With breath suspended, like a listening scout.
O Silence! thou wert mother of a shout
That through the texture of yon azure dome
Cleaves its glad way, a cry of harvest home

He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; Uttered to Heaven in ecstacy devout!

He called on Frost's inexorable tooth

Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold;
Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs;
For why-unless for liberty enrolled

The barrier Rhine hath flashed, through battle-
smoke,

On men who gaze heart-smitten by the view,
As if all Germany had felt the shock!

And sacred home-ah why should hoary Age-Fly, wretched Gauls! ere they the charge

be bold?

Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed,
But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind,
Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed,
And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind,
And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride,
And to the battle ride.

No pitying voice commands a halt,
No courage can repel the dire assault;
Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and blind,
Whole legions sink-and, in one instant, find
Burial and death: look for them-and descry,
When morn returns, beneath the clear blue
sky,

A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!

Who

renew

have seen-themselves now casting off the yoke

The unconquerable Stream his course pursue.

XXXVIII.
NOVEMBER, 1813.

Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,
Our aged Sovereign sits, to the ebb and flow
Of states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe,
Insensible. He sits deprived of sight,
And lamentably wrapt in twofold night,
ensued,
Whom no weak hopes deceived; whose mind

Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,

POEMS OF THE IMAGINATION.

Fixed in the depths of this courageous soil;
Expressive signals of a glorious strife,
And competent to shed a spark divine
Into the torpid breast of daily life ;-
Records on which, for pleasure of all eyes,
The morning sun may shine
With gratulation thoroughly benign!

V.

And ye, Pierian Sisters, sprung from Jove And sage Mnemosyne,-full long debarred From your first mansions, exiled all too long From many a hallowed stream and grove, Dear native regions where ye wont to rove, Chanting for patriot heroes the reward

Of never-dying song!

Now (for, though Truth descending from above
The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye
Your kindred Deities, Ye live and move,
Spared for obeisance from perpetual love,
For privilege redeemed of godlike sway)
Now, on the margin of some spotless fountain,
Or top serene of unmolested mountain,
Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres,
And for a moment meet the soul's desires!
That I, or some more favoured Bard, may hear
What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung
Of Britain's acts,-may catch it with rapt ear,
And give the treasure to our British tongue!
So shall the characters of that proud page
Support their mighty theme from age to age;
And, in the desert places of the earth,
When they to future empires have given birth,
So shall the people gather and believe
The bold report, transferred to every clime:
And the whole world, not envious but admiring,
And to the like aspiring,
Own-that the progeny of this fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled,
A corresponding virtue to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time-
That not in vain they laboured to secure,
For their great deeds, perpetual memory,
And fame as largely spread as land and sea,
By Works of spirit high and passion pure!

Heroes!-for instant sacrifice prepared;
Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent
'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident-
To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared
To guard the fallen, and consummate the event,
Your Country rears this sacred Monument !

XLII.

SIEGE OF VIENNA RAISED BY JOHN sobieski.
FEBRUARY, 1816.

pure

flame

O, FOR a kindling touch from that
Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,
In words like these: "Up, Voice of song! pro-
claim

Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim:
For lo! the Imperial City stands released
From bondage threatened by the embattled
East,

And Christendom respires; from guilt and
shame

Redeemed, from miserable fear set free
By one day's feat, one mighty victory.

Chant the Deliverer's praise in every tongue!
The cross shall spread, the crescent hath waxed

dim;

He conquering, as in joyful Heaven is sung,
HE CONQUERING THROUGH GOD, AND GOD BY
HIM."

XLIII.

XL.

FEELINGS OF A FRENCH ROYALIST,

ON THE DISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF
THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.

DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen-to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old
In a blind worship; men perversely bold
Even to this hour,-yet, some shall now forsake
Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake,
To warn the living; if truth were ever told
By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:
Omurdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave!
The power of retribution once was given:
But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands
So often tie the thunder-wielding hands
Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!

OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.
FEBRUARY, 1816.

THE Bard-whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet trained to judgments righteously severe,
Fervid, yet conversant with holy fear,
As recognising one Almighty sway:
He-whose experienced eye can pierce the

array

Of past events; to whom, in vision clear,
The aspiring heads of future things appear,
Like mountain-tops whose mists have rolled

away

Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,*
He only, if such breathe, in strains devout
Shall comprehend this victory sublime:
Shall worthily rehearse the hideous rout,
The triumph hail, which from their peaceful
clime

Angels might welcome with a choral shout!

* "From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."

Spenser.