VIII. SM. TO MY BROTHER. MALL, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles, Voice From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly. IX. H ADDRESSED TO HAYDON. IGH-MINDEDNESS, a jealousy for good, A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, Dwells here and there with people of no name, In noisome alley, and in pathless wood: And where we think the truth least understood, Oft may be found a "singleness of aim," That ought to frighten into hooded shame A money-mongering, pitiable brood. How glorious this affection for the cause Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly! What when a stout unbending champion awes Envy, and malice to their native sty? Unnumber'd souls breathe out a still applause, Proud to behold him in his country's eye. G X. ADDRESSED TO THE SAME. REAT spirits now on earth are sojourning: Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing: He of the rose, the violet, the spring, The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake : And lo! whose steadfastness would never take A meaner sound than Raphael's whispering. And other spirits there are standing apart Upon the forehead of the age to come; These, these will give the world another heart, And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings? Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb. XI. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. M UCH have I travell❜d in the realms of gold, Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told When a new planet swims into his ken; Silent, upon a peak in Darien. XII. ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS AT AN EARLY G HOUR. IVE me a golden pen, and let me lean On heap'd-up flowers, in regions clear, and far; Let me write down a line of glorious tone, |