VI.

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN
REPUBLIC.

ONCE did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free:
No guile seduced, no force could violate ;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid

When her long life hath reached its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the

Shade

Of that which once was great is passed away.

VII.

THE KING OF SWEDEN.

THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call
To that great King; shall hail the crowned
Youth

Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth,
By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall,
If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend?
And what to him and his shall be the end?
That thought is one which neither can appal
Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath
done

The thing which ought to be; is raised above
All consequences: work he hath begun
Of fortitude, and piety, and love,
Which all his glorious ancestors approve :
The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.

Among the capricious acts of tyranny that dis-
graced those times, was the chasing of all
Negroes from France by decree of the
government: we had a Fellow-passenger
who was one of the expelled.
WE had a female Passenger who came
From Calais with us, spotless in array,-
A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay,
Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame;
Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on all proffered intercourse did lay

SEPTEMBER, 1802. NEAR DOVER.
INLAND, within a hollow vale, I stood;
And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,
The coast of France-the coast of France how
near !

Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,
A span of waters; yet what power is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters

roll,

Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity; Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

XII.

THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION
OF SWITZERLAND.

Two Voices are there; one is of the sea,
One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice:
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!
There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee
Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly

striven:

Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,

Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft:
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left;
For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by thee.!

XIII

WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER 1802.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold

For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,

Or groom!-We must run glittering like brook

In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
The wealthiest man among us is the best.
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
This is idolatry: and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

XIV.

LONDON, 1802.

a

MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart :
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the

sea:

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

XV.

sprung

Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold

penned

And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none:
The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others who called Milton

friend.

unite

Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair :

WHO rises on the banks of Seine,
And binds her temples with the civic wreath?
What joy to read the promise of her mien !
How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings
beneath!

But they are ever playing,
And twinkling in the light,
And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;

And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair,
And calls a look of love into her face,
And spreads her arms, as if the general air
Alone could satisfy her wide embrace.

Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
Her love ye hailed-her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form hath

Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade,
Among the lurking powers

Of herbs and lowly flowers,

Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aidThat Man may be accomplished for a task Which his own nature hath enjoined ;-and why?

If, when that interference hath relieved him, He must sink down to languish

In worse than former helplessness and lie Till the caves roar,-and, imbecility Again engendering anguish,

The same weak wish returns that had before deceived him.

V.

But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st not speed

The course of things, and change the creed
Which hath been held aloft before men's sight
Since the first framing of societies,

Whether, as bards have told in ancient song,
Built up by soft seducing harmonies;
Or prest together by the appetite,
And by the power, of wrong.

PART II.

I.

ON A CELEBRATED EVENT IN ANCIENT

HISTORY.

A ROMAN Master stands on Grecian ground, And to the people at the Isthmian Games Assembled, He, by a herald's voice, proclaims THE LIBERTY OF GREECE:-the words re. bound

Until all voices in one voice are drowned;

In many a midnight vision bowed

Before the ominous aspect of her spear;
Whether the mighty beam, in scorn upheld,
Threatened her foes,-or, pompously at rest,
Seemed to bisect her orbèd shield,
As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud
Across the setting sun and all the fiery west.

And birds, high flying in the element,
Dropped to the earth, astonished at the sound!
Yet were the thoughtful grieved; and still that
voice

Haunts, with sad echoes, musing Fancy's ear: Ah! that a Conqueror's words should be so dear:

Ah! that a boon could shed such rapturous joys!

A gift of that which is not to be given
By all the blended powers of Earth and
Heaven.

III. TO THOMAS CLARKSON, ON THE FINAL PASSING OF THE BILL FOR THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE.

March, 1807.

CLARKSON! it was an obstinate hill to climb:
How toilsome-nay, how dire-it was, by thee
Is known; by none, perhaps, so feelingly:
But thou, who, starting in thy fervent prime,
Didst first lead forth that enterprise sublime,
Hast heard the constant Voice its charge repeat,
Which, out of thy young heart's oracular seat,
First roused thee.O true yoke-fellow of Time,
Duty's intrepid liegeman, see, the palm
Is won, and by all Nations shall be worn!
The blood-stained Writing is for ever torn;
And thou henceforth wilt have a good man's
calm,

A great man's happiness; thy zeal shall find
Repose at length, firm friend of human kind!

COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE LAKE. 1807.

CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled

By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;

Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed

At happy distance from earth's groaning field,
Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
Is it a mirror?-or the nether Sphere
Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires? - But list! a voice is near;

Great Pan himself low-whispering through the

reeds,

"Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!"

VI.

Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
Go back, and see the Tower of Babel rise;
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,

For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act,
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute-
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,"
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!

VII.

COMPOSED WHILE THE AUTHOR WAS ENGAGED IN WRITING A TRACT, OCCASIONED BY THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA.

1808.

Nor 'mid the World's vain objects that enslave The free-born Soul-that World whose vaunted skill

In selfish interest perverts the will,
Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave-
Not there; but in dark wood and rocky cave,
And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill
With omnipresent murmur as they rave
Down their steep beds, that never shall be still;
Here, mighty Nature; in this school sublime
I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain;
For her consult the auguries of time,

And through the human heart explore my way:
And look and listen-gathering, whence I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.