His Father served Jehovah; but how win Due audience, how for aught but scorn defy The obstinate pride and wanton revelry Of the Jerusalem below, her sin
And folly, if they with united din
Drown not at once mandate and prophecy? Therefore the Voice spake from the Desert, thence
To Her, as to her opposite in peace,
Silence, and holiness, and innocence,
To Her and to all Lands its warning sent, Crying with earnestness that might not cease, "Make straight a highway for the Lordrepent!"
AT FLORENCE.-FROM MICHAEL ANGELO.
RAPT above earth by power of one fair face, Hers in whose alone my sway heart delights, I mingle with the blest on those pure heights Where Man, yet mortal, rarely finds a place. With Him who made the Work that Work
So well, that by its help and through his grace I raise my thoughts, inform my deeds and words,
Clasping her beauty in my soul's embrace. Thus, if from two fair eyes mine cannot turn, I feel how in their presence doth abide Light which to God is both the way and guide;
And, kindling at their lustre, if I burn, My noble fire emits the joyful ray
That through the realms of glory shines for
AT FLORENCE.-FROM MICHAEL ANGELO.
ETERNAL Lord! eased of a cumbrous load, And loosened from the world, I turn to Thee, Shun, like a shattered bark, the storm, and flee To Thy protection for a safe abode.
The crown of thorns, hands pierced upon the tree,
The meek, benign, and lacerated face, To a sincere repentance promise grace, To the sad soul give hope of pardon free. With justice mark not Thou, O Light divine, My fault, nor hear it with Thy sacred ear; Neither put forth that way Thy arm severe; Wash with Thy blood my sins; thereto incline More readily the more my years require Help, and forgiveness speedy and entire.
AMONG THE RUINS OF A CONVENT IN THE
YE Trees! whose slender roots entwine Altars that piety neglects; Whose infant arms enclasp the shrine Which no devotion now respects;
If not a straggler from the herd Here ruminate, nor shrouded bird, Chanting her low-voiced hymn, take pride In aught that ye would grace or hide- How sadly is your love misplaced, Fair Trees, your bounty run to waste! Ye, too, wild Flowers! that no one heeds, And ye-full often spurned as weeds- In beauty clothed, or breathing sweetness
From fractured arch and mouldering wall— Do but more touchingly recall
Man's headstrong violence and Time's fleetness, Making the precincts ye adorn Appear to sight still more forlorn.
SEE, where his difficult way that Old Man wins Bent by a load of Mulberry leaves !—most hard Appears his lot, to the small Worm's compared, For whom his toil with early day begins. Acknowledging no task-master, at will (As if her labour and her ease were twins) She seems to work, at pleasure to lie still;— And softly sleeps within the thread she spins. So fare they the Man serving as her Slave. Ere long their fates do each to each conform: 10 Both pass into new being, but the Worm, Transfigured, sinks into a hopeless grave; His volant Spirit will, he trusts, ascend To bliss unbounded, glory without end.
FAIR Land! Thee all men greet with joy; how few,
Whose souls take pride in freedom, virtue, fame, Part from thee without pity dyed in shame: I could not-while from Venice we withdrew, Led on till an Alpine strait confined our view 5 Within its depths, and to the shore we came Of Lago Morto, dreary sight and name,
Which o'er sad thoughts a sadder colouring threw.
Italia! on the surface of thy spirit,
(Too aptly emblemed by that torpid lake) Shall a few partial breezes only creep?Be its depths quickened; what thou dost inherit
Of the world's hopes, dare to fulfil; awake, Mother of Heroes, from thy death-like sleep!
As indignation mastered grief, my tongue Spake bitter words; words that did ill agree With those rich stores of Nature's imagery, And divine Art, that fast to memory clung- Thy gifts, magnificent Region, ever young In the sun's eye, and in his sister's sight How beautiful! how worthy to be sung In strains of rapture, or subdued delight! I feign not; witness that unwelcome shock That followed the first sound of German speech, Caught the far-winding barrier Alps among. In that announcement, greeting seemed to mock Parting; the casual word had power to reach My heart, and filled that heart with conflict strong.
COMPOSED AT RYDAL ON MAY MORNING, 1838.
IF with old love of you, dear Hills! I share New love of many a rival image brought From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:
Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when I
Thy present birth-morn with thy last, so fair, 5 So rich to me in favours. For my lot
Then was within the famed Egerian Grot To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning too,
Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming
Amid the sunny, shadowy, Colosseum; Heard them, unchecked by aught of saddening
For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring,
Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum.
THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN.
WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds
O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds; And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold A new magnificence that vies with old; Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood A votive Column, spared by fire and flood:- And, though the passions of man's fretful race Have never ceased to eddy round its base, Not injured more by touch of meddling hands Than a lone obelisk, 'mid Nubian sands, Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save From death the memory of the good and brave. Historic figures round the shaft embost Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost: Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees 15
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