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Group winding after group with dream-like
ease; Triumphs in sunbright gratitude displayed, Or softly stealing into modest shade. -So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine ; 20 The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and
breathes Wide-spreading odours from her flowery
Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds'
ears Murmuring but one smooth story for all years, I gladly commune with the mind and heart 25 Of him who thus survives by classic art, His actions witness, venerate his mien, And study Trajan as by Pliny seen; Behold how fought the Chief whose conquering
sword Stretched far as earth might own a single lord ; In the delight of moral prudence schooled, How feelingly at home the Sovereign ruled ; Best of the good-in pagan faith allied To more than Man, by virtue deified.
Memorial Pillar! ’mid the wrecks of Time 35 Preserve thy charge with confidence sublimeThe exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, Whence half the breathing world received its
Things that recoil from language; that, if
shown By apter pencil, from the light had flown. 40 A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores, There greets an Embassy from Indian shores; Lo! he harangues his cohorts—there the storm
Of battle meets him in authentic form! 44 Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian
force, To hoof and finger mailed ;-yet, high or low, None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe; In every Roman, through all turns of fate, Is Roman dignity inviolate; Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides, Supports, adorns, and over all presides; Distinguished only by inherent state From honoured Instruments that round him
wait; Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test 55 Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest On aught by which another is deprest. --Alas! that One thus disciplined could toil To enslave whole nations on their native soil; So emulous of Macedonian fame,
60 That, when his age was measured with his aim, He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories, And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn
sighs. O weakness of the Great! O folly of the Wise !
Where now the haughty Empire that was spread
65 With such fond hope ? her very speech is dead ; Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies, And Trajan still, through various enterprise, Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies: Still are we present with the imperial Chief, 70 Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined, Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind.
THE EGYPTIAN MAID
THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER LILY.
For the names and persons in the following poem
see the “History of the renowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table;" for the rest the Author is answerable ; only it may be proper to add that the Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art, once included among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum.
WHILE Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
5 And took from men her name—THE WATER
Soft was the wind, that landward blew ;
10 Became, as nearer to the coast she drew, More glorious, with spread sail and streaming
Upon this winged Shape so fair
Was ever built with patient care;
Now, though a Mechanist, whose skill Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science,
20 Grave Merlin (and belike the more For practising occult and perilous lore)
Was subject to a freakish will That sapped good thoughts, or scared them with
Provoked to envious spleen, he cast 25
Anon the breeze became a blast,
With thrilling word, and potent sign 31 Traced on the beach, his work the Sorcerer
urges ; The clouds in blacker clouds are lost, Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, crossed
By Fiends of aspect more malign; 35 And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer
But worthy of the name she bore
Of motion, whether in the embrace 40
Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er The main flood roughened into hill and valley.
Behold, how wantonly she laves
Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves
But Ocean under magic heaves,
49 And cannot spare the Thing he cherished : Ah! what avails that she was fair, Luminous, blithe, and debonair?
The storm has stripped her of her leaves ; The Lily floats no longer !—She hath perished.
Grieve for her, she deserves no less; 55
Though pitied, feel her own distress; 59 Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature.
Yet is there cause for gushing tears ;
A lovely One, who nothing hears
Into a cave had Merlin fled