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Springs this indigenous produce far and near;
1811. 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
For its own honour, on man's suffering heart.
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:
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 15 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, He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth ; He called on Frost's inexorable tooth 21 Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold; Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs; For why—unless for liberty enrolled And sacred home-ah! why should hoary Age
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.
31 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 35 Burial and death: look for them—and descry, When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky, A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy !
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 Looks on delighted --meet in festal ring, And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing ! Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers,
6 Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety
showers, And the dire flapping of his hoary wing! .Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass; With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your
gain; Whisper it to the billows of the main, And to the aërial zephyrs as they pass, That old decrepit Winter-He bath slain That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain !
By Moscow self-devoted to a blaze
11 He, whose heaped waves confounded the proud
Of Pharaoh, said to Famine, Snow, and Frost, “Finish the strife by deadliest victory !”
THE GERMANS ON THE HEIGHTS OF HOCHHEIM. ABRUPTLY paused the strife;— the field
throughout 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 Uttered to Heaven in ecstasy devout! 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! 11 -Fly, wretched Gauls! ere they the charge
renew Who have seen—themselves now casting off the
yokeThe unconquerable Stream his course pursue.
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 wrapped in twofold night, 5 Whom no weak hopes deceived; whose mind
ensued, Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,
Peace that should claim respect from lawless
Might. Dread King of Kings, vouchsafe a ray divine To his forlorn condition ! let thy grace 10 Upon his inner soul in mercy shine; Permit his heart to kindle, and to embrace (Though it were only for a moment's space) The triumphs of this hour; for they are THINE!
- clarius indicant
When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch