-But why this stealing tear? Companion
On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee well,
My Song's Inspirer, once again farewell *! 1834.
THE FOREGOING SUBJECT RESUMED. AMONG a grave fraternity of Monks, For One, but surely not for One alone, Triumphs, in that great work, the Painter's skill,
Humbling the body, to exalt the soul; Yet representing, amid wreck and wrong And dissolution and decay, the warm And breathing life of flesh, as if already Clothed with impassive majesty, and graced With no mean earnest of a heritage
Assigned to it in future worlds. Thou, too, With thy memorial flower, meek Portraiture! From whose serene companionship I passed Pursued by thoughts that haunt me still; thou also-
Though but a simple object, into light Called forth by those affections that endear The private hearth; though keeping thy sole
In singleness, and little tried by time, Creation, as it were, of yesterday- With a congenial function art endued For each and all of us, together joined In course of nature under a low roof By charities and duties that proceed Out of the bosom of a wiser vow. To a like salutary sense of awe
Or sacred wonder, growing with the power Of meditation that attempts to weigh,
In faithful scales, things and their opposites, Can thy enduring quiet gently raise A household small and sensitive, whose
Dependent as in part its blessings are Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven. 1834.
*The pile of buildings, composing the pal. ace and convent of San Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the Escurial, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added, that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.
In the class entitled "Musings," in Mr Southey's Minor Poems, is one upon his own miniature Picture, taken in childhood, and
another upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfac-. ion, he must be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two Poems of his Friend have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often as he reads them, or thinks of them.
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive, Would that the little Flowers were born to live,
Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;
That to this mountain-daisy's self were known The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown On the smooth surface of this naked stone! And what if hence a bold desire should mount High as the Sun, that he could take account Of all that issues from his glorious fount! So might he ken how by his sovereign aid These delicate companionships are made; And how he rules the pomp of light and shade;
With a divinity of colours, drest
In all her brightness, from the dancing crest Far as the last gleam of the filmy train Extended and extending to sustain The motions that it graces-and forbear To drop his pencil! Flowers of every clime Depicted on these pages smile at time; And gorgeous insects copied with nice care Are here, and likenesses of many a shell Tossed ashore by restless waves, Where sea-nymphs might be proud to dwell: Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from caves But whose rash hand (again I ask) could
To circumscribe this Shape in fixed repose; 'Mid casual tokens and promiscuous shows, Could imitate for indolent survey, Plumes that might catch, but cannot keep, a Perhaps for touch profane,
And, with cloud-streaks lightest and loftiest,
The sun's first greeting, his last farewell ray?
Resplendent Wanderer! followed with glad eyes
Where'er her course; mysterious Bird! To whom, by wondering Fancy stirred, Eastern Islanders have given
COMPOSED AFTER READING A NEWSPAPER OF THE DAY.
They heard, and, starting up, the Brood of Night
"PEOPLE! your chains are severing link by Clapped hands, and shook with glee their
link: Soon shall the Rich be levelled down-the Poor Meet them half-way." Vain boast! for These, They thus would rise, must low and lower sink Till, by repentance stung, they fear to think; While all lie prostrate, save the tyrant few Bent in quick turns each other to undo, And mix the poison they themselves must drink.
Mistrust thyself, vain Country! cease to cry, Knowledge will save me from the threatene 1
RELUCTANT call it was; the rite delayed; And in the Senate some there were who doffed The last of their humanity, and scoffed At providential judgments, undismayed By their own daring. But the People prayed As with one voice; their flinty heart grew soft With penitential sorrow, and aloft Their spirit mounted, crying, "God us aid! Oh that with aspirations more intense, Chastised by self-abasement more profound, This People, once so happy, so renowned For liberty, would seek from God defence Against far heavier ill, the pestilence Of revolution, impiously unbound!
Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud, Falsehood and Treachery, in close council met, Deep under ground, in Pluto's cabinet, "The frost of England's pride will soon be thawed;
Hooded the open brow that overawed Our schemes; the faith and honour, never yet By us with hope encountered, be upset ;- For once I burst my bands, and cry, applaud!"
All Powers and Places that abhor the light Joined in the transport, echoed back their shout, hugging his Ballot-box!
BLEST Statesman He, whose Mind's unselfish will
Leaves him at ease among grand thoughts: whose eye
Sees that, apart from magnanimity, Wisdom exists not; nor the humbler skill Of Prudence, disentangling good and ill With patient care. What tho' assaults run high,
They daunt not him who holds his ministry, Resolute, at all hazards, to fulfil
Its duties;-prompt to move, but firm to wait,- Knowing, things rashly sought are rarely found; That, for the functions of an ancient State- Strong by her charters, free because imbound, Servant of Providence, not slave of Fate- Perilous is sweeping change, all chance un-
IN ALLUSION TO VARIOUS RECENT HISTORIES AND NOTICES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. PORTENTOUS change when History can appear As the cool Advocate of foul device; Reckless audacity extol, and jeer
At consciences perplexed with scruples nice! They who bewail not must abhor the sneer Born of Conceit, Power's blind Idolater; Or haply sprung from vaunting Cowardice Betrayed by mockery of holy fear
Hath it not long been said the wrath of Man Works not the righteousness of God? Oh bend, Laws that lay under Heaven's perpetual ban Bend, ye Perverse! to judgments from on High, The sacred limits of humanity. All principles of action that transcend
WHO ponders National events shall find An awful balancing of loss and gain,
Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined, And proud deliverance issuing out of pain And direful throes; as if the All-ruling Mind, With whose perfection it consists to ordain Volcanic burst, earthquake, and hurricane, Dealt in like sort with feeble human kind By laws immutable. But woe for him Who thus deceived shall lend an eager hand To social havoc. Is not Conscience ours, And Truth, whose eye guilt only can make dim;
And Will, whose office, by divine command, Is to control and check disordered Powers!
LONG-FAVOURED England! be not thou misled By monstrous theories of alien growth, Lest alien frenzy seize thee, waxing wroth, Self-smitten till thy garments reek dyed red With thy own blood, which tears in torrents shed
Fail to wash out, tears flowing ere thy troth Be plighted, not to ease but sullen sloth, Or wan despair-the ghost of false hope filed Into a shameful grave. Among thy youth, My Country! if such warning be held dear, Then shall a Veteran's heart be thrilled with joy,
Aн why deceive ourselves! by no mere fit Of sudden passion roused shall men attain True freedom where for ages they have lain Bound in a dark abominable pit,
With life's best sinews more and more unknit. Here, there, a banded few who loathe the Chain May rise to break it: effort worse than vain For thee, O great Italian nation, split Into those jarring fractions.-Let thy scope Be one fixed mind for all; thy rights approve To thy own conscience gradually renewed; Then trust thy cause to the arm of Fortitude, Learn to make Time the father of wise Hope; The light of Knowledge, and the warmth of Love.
HARD task! exclaim the undisciplined, to lean On Patience coupled with such slow endeavour That long-lived servitude must last for ever. Perish the grovelling few, who, prest between Wrongs and the terror of redress, would wean Millions from glorious aims. Our chains to
One who would gather from eternal truth, For time and season, rules that work to cheer-Let us break forth in tempest now or never!- Not scourge, to save the People-not destroy.
TO THE PENNSYLVANIANS.
DAYS undefiled by luxury or sloth, Firm self-denial, manners grave and staid, Rights equal, laws with cheerfulness obeyed, Words that require no sanction from an oath, And simple honesty a common growth-, This high repute, with bounteous Nature's aid, Won confidence, now ruthlessly betrayed At will, your power the measure of your
All who revere the memory of Penn
What, is there then no space for golden mean And gradual progress?-Twilight leads to day, And, even within the burning zones of earth, The hastiest sunrise yields a temperate ray; The softest breeze to fairest flowers gives birth: Think not that Prudence dwells in dark abodes, She scans the future with the eye of gods.
As leaves are to the tree whereon they grow And wither, every human generation Is to the Being of a mighty nation, Locked in our world's embrace through weal and wɔe:
Thought that should teach the zealot to forego Rash schemes, to abjure all selfish agitation, And seek through noiseless pains and modera- tion
The unblemished good they only can bestow. Alas! with most who weigh futurity Against time present, passion holds the scales: Hence equal ignorance of both prevails, And nations sink; or, struggling to be free,, Are doomed to flounder on, like wounded whales
Tossed on the bosom of a stormy sea.
YOUNG ENGLAND-what is then become of Old, Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead, Dead to the very name? Presumption fed On empty air! That name will keep its hold
Grieve for the land on whose wild woods his In the true filial bosom's inmost fold
Was fondly grafted with a virtuous aim, Renounced, abandoned by degenerate Men For state-dishonour black as ever came To upper air from Mammon's loathsome den.
For ever. The Spirit of Alfred at the head Of all who for her rights watch'd, toil'd and bled Knows that this prophecy is not too bold. What-how! shall she submit in will and deed To Beardless Boys-an imitative race,
The servum pecus of a Gallic breed? Dear Mother! if thou must thy steps retrace, Go where at least meek Innocency dwells; Let Babes and Sucklings be thy oracles.
FEEL for the wrongs to universal ken Daily exposed, woe that unshrouded lies; And seek the Sufferer in his darkest den, Whether conducted to the spot by sighs
And moanings, or he dwells (as if the wren Taught him concealment) hidden from all eyes In silence and the awful modesties
Of sorrow-feel for all, as brother Men Rest not in hope want's icy chain to thaw By casual boons and formal charities; Learn to be just, just through impartial law; Far as ye may, erect and equalise ; And, what ye cannot reach by statute, draw Each from his fountain of self-sacrifice!
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