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I take with patience, as my master did, All scoffs permitted from above.
My Lord, Pray overlook these papers. Archy's words Had wings, but these have talons.
And the lion That wears them must be tamed. My dearest lord, I see the new-born courage in your eye Arm'd to strike dead the spirit of the time.
And in the lightest and the least, may best
Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve,
. And if this suffice not, Unleash the sword and fire, that in their thirst They may lick up that scum of schismatics. I laugh at those weak rebels who, desiring What we possess, still prate of christian peace, As if those dreadful messengers of wrath, Which play the part of God 'twixt right and wrong, Should be let loose against innocent sleep Of templed cities and the smiling fields, For some poor argument of policy Which touches our own profit or our pride, Where indeed it were christian charity To turn the cheek even to the smiter's hand : And when our great Redeemer, when our God Is scorn'd in his immediate ministers, They talk of peace : Such peace as Canaan found, let Scotland now.
HAMPDEN, PYM, CROMWELL, and the younger Vane.
The vanes sit steady
Hail, fleet herald
] of Paradise,
QUEEN. My beloved lord, Have you not noted that the fool of late Has lost his careless mirth, and that his words Sound like the echoes of our saddest fears? What can it mean? I should be loth to think Some factious slave had tutor'd him.
It partly is, That our minds piece the vacant intervals Of his wild words with their own fashioning; As in the imagery of summer clouds, Or coals in the winter fire, idlers find The perfect shadows of their teeming thoughts: And partly, that the terrors of the time Are sown by wandering Rumour in all spirits ;
The pavement of this moist all-feeding carth;
Oh! would that I could claim exemption
From all the bitterness of that sweet name. Repelling invasion from the sacred towers,
I loved, I love, and when I love no more, Presses upon me like a dungeon's grate,
Let joys and grief perish, and leave despair A low dark roof, a damp and narrow vault :
To ring the knell of youth. He stood beside me, The mighty universe becomes a cell
The embodied vision of the brightest dream,
Which like a dawn heralds the day of life;
The shadow of his presence made my world
A paradise. All familiar things he touch'd, Of cradled peace built on the mountain tops,
All common words he spoke, became to me To which the eagle-spirits of the free,
Like forms and sounds of a diviner world. Which range through heaven and earth, and scorn the He was as is the sun in his fierce youth,
As terrible and lovely as a tempest ; Of time, and gaze upon the light of truth,
He came, and went, and left me what I am. Return to brood over the [
) thoughts Alas! Why must I think how oft we two That cannot die, and may not be repelled.
Have sale together near the river springs,
Strewn by the nurslings that linger there,
While the musk-rose leaves, like flakes of crimson spow, He came like a dream in the dawn of life, He fled like a shadow before its noon;
Shower'd on us, and the dove mourn'd in the pine, He is gone, and my peace is turn'd to strife,
Sad prophetess of sorrows not our own.
Your breath is like soft music, your words are
The echoes of a voice which on my heart
Sleeps like a melody of early days. Make answer the while my heart shall break!
But as you said, But heart has a music which Echo's lips,
He was so awful, yet
So beautiful in mystery and terror,
Calming me as the loveliness of heaven
Soothes the unquiet sea :-and yet not so,
For he seem'd stormy, and would often seem
A quenchless sun mask'd in portentous clouds;
For such bis thoughts, and even his actions were ;
But as they hid his splendour from the earth.
Some said he was a man of blood and peril, Than all the pleasure in the world beside,
And steep'd in bitter infamy to the lips.
More need was there I should be innocent,
More need that I should be most true and kind,
And much more peed that there should be found one That which I seek, some human sympathy
To share remorse, and scorn and solitude, In this mysterious island.
And all the ills that wait on those who do
The tasks of ruin in the world of life.
He fled, and I have follow'd him.
THERE was a youth, who, as with toil and travel,
Had grown quite weak and grey before his time;
could the restless griefs unravel
Which buro'd within him, withering up his prime, And that for gentle hearts another name
And goading him, like fiends, from land to land.
for nought of ill his heart could understand,
But pity and wild sorrow for the same ;Young as thou art, thou canst afford to weep.
Not his the thirst for glory or command,
Thus had his age, dark, cold, and tempest-tost,
From fountains pure, nigh overgrown and lost,
The spirit of Prince Athanase, a child,
And philosophic wisdom, clear and mild.
And sweet and subtle talk they evermore,
The pupil and master shared; until,
Sharing the undiminishable store, Had spared in Greece—the blight that cramps and blinds,
The youth, as shadows on a grassy hill And in his olive bower at OEnoe
Outrun the winds that chase them, soon outran Had sate from earliest youth. Like one who finds
His teacher, and did teach with native skill
Strange truths and new to that experienced man; Many a drear month in a great ship-so he,
Still they were friends, as few have ever been
Who mark the extremes of life's discordant span. With soul-sustaining songs, and sweet debates Of ancient lore, there fed his lonely being :
And in the caverns of the forest green,
Zonoras and Prince Athanase were seen
By summer woodmen; and when winter's roar And when he heard the crash of nations fleeing Sounded o'er earth and sea its blast of war,
The Balearic fisher, driven from shore,
Hanging upon the peaked wave afar,
Then saw their lamp from Laian's turret gleam,
Piercing the stormy darkness like a star,
Which pours beyond the sea one sted fast beam, Who fell in Byzant, pierced by Moslem spears:
Whilst all the constellations of the sky
Seem'd wrecked. And as the lady look'd with faithful grief
They did but seemFrom her high lattice o'er the rugged path,
For, lo! the wintry clouds are all gone by, Where she once saw that horseman toil, with brief
And bright Arcturus through yon pines is glowing,
And far o'er southern waves, immoveably
Belted Orion hangs—warm light is flowing
From the young moon into the sunset's chasm.| The Author was pursuing a fuller development of the ideal • 0, summer night! with power divine, bestowing character of Athanase, when it struck him that in an attempt at extreme refinement and analysis, bis conceptions might be be
« On thine own bird the sweet enthusiasm trayed into the assuming a morbid cbaractor. The reader will judge wheiber he is a luser or gaider by this difference. --Author's Which overflows in notes of liquid gladness, Nole.
Filling the sky like light! How many a spasm
Of dark emotion, a swift shadow ran,
Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all
We can desire, O Love! and happy souls,
Ere from thy vine the leaves of autumn fall,
Catch thee, and feed from their o'erflowing bowls
Thousands who thirst for thy ambrosial dew;-
Thou art the radiance which where ocean rolls
Invests it; and when heavens are blue
Thou fillest them; and when the earth is fair, « Paused in yon waves her mighty horns to wet,
The shadow of thy moving wings imbue How in those beams we walk d, half resting on the sea?
Its deserts and its mountains, till they wear 'T is just one year-sure thou dost not forget
Beauty like some bright robe ;-thou ever soarest « Then Plato's words of light in thee and me
Among the towers of men, and as soft air
In spring, which moves the unawaken'd forest,
Thou floatest among men ; and aye implorest
That which from thee they should implore:- the weak From death and [
Alone kneel to thee, offering up the hearts
The strong have broken-yet where shall any seek FRAGMENT III.
A garment whom thou clothest not? 'T was at the season when the Earth upsprings
On! foster-nurse of man's abandon'd glory, up Of whose soft voice the air expectant seems
Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour; So stood before the sun, which shone and smiled
Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story,
As ocean its wreck'd fanes, severe yet tender : To see it rise thus joyous from its dreams,
The light-invested angel Poesy The fresh and radiant Earth. The hoary grove
Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee. Wax'd green-and flowers burst forth like starry beams;-- And thou in painting didst transcribe all taught
By loftiest meditations; marble knew The grass in the warm sun did start and move,
The sculptor's fearless soul—and as he wrought, And sea-buds burst under the waves serene :
The grace of his own power and freedom grew. How many a one, though none be near to love,
And more than all, heroic, just, sublime
Thou wert among the false-was this thy crime?
Of direst weeds hangs garlanded-the snake
Inhabits its wreck'd palaces;- in thine How many a spirit then puts on the pinions
A beast of subtler venom now doth make Of fancy, and outstrips the lagging blast,
Its lair, and sits amid their glories overthrown, And his own steps_and over wide dominions
And thus thy victim's fate is as thine own.
This fragment refers to an event, told in Sismondi's Histoire Sweeps in his dream-drawn chariot, far and fast,
des Républiques Italiennes, which occurred during the war when More fleet than storms-the wide world shrinks below Florence finally subdued Pisa, and reduced it to a province. Tho When winter and despondency are past.
opening stanzas are addressed to the conquering city.