Book 
 
/ 
 
 ITALY 
 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM SOTHEBY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXVIII. 
 

 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY C. ROWORTH, BELL YARD, 
 
 TEMPLE BAR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ITALY 1 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 189 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM " THE ELEMENTS" 247 
 
 POEMS 309 
 
ITALY. 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Rome 1 
 
 Tivoli 70 
 
 Terni 75 
 
 The Emissario of Albano 77 
 
 On an Orange Tree at Rome 81 
 
 Venice 83 
 
 Florence 98 
 
 The Grotto of Egeria 113 
 
 On the ruined Palace of Rienzi 116 
 
 On a Peasant of the Abruzzi Mountains 118 
 
 The Pontine Marshes 120 
 
 The Bandit 123 
 
 The Lake of Como 125 
 
 Vallombrosa 131 
 
 The Lake of Nemi 135 
 
 Terracina 137 
 
 Carrara 140 
 
 Tivoli 142 
 
 The Borromean Islands 145 
 
 Paestum 149 
 
 Naples 153 
 
 Farewell to Italy 177 
 
ROME. 
 
 CxlNTO THE FIRST. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The sublimest views of Nature, the Volcanos of the Andes, 
 and the Cataract of Niagara, contrasted and compared with 
 the Ruins of Rome : — the superior interest excited by the 
 latter. — The grandeur and extent of the ruins, on, and 
 around the Palatine. — The desolation of the Via Sacra : 
 its splendour in the Triumph of Aurelian. — The Campo 
 Vaccino reduced to the state described by Virgil in the age 
 of Evander. — Reflections arising from the similarity of 
 scenery at different periods in the progress of Society. — 
 The beauty and grandeur of modern Rome. 
 
ROME. 
 
 CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 Wanderer ! who lov'st the pathless solitude, 
 Where, in wild grandeur, Nature dwells alone 
 On the bleak mountain, and th' unsculptur'd stone, 
 'Mid torrents, and dark range of forests rude ; 
 Go, where, coeval with the birth of Time, 
 Wild woods that crest the rocky ridge sublime 
 Wave in the tempest's sweep: 
 Or on the Cordillera's icy brow 
 View, from a thousand rent volcanos, flow 
 The fire-floods blazing up from central night : 
 Or under shadow of the cataract, 
 With deep and dread delight, 
 
 Stand where Niagara's flood wears down the moun- 
 tain tract. 
 
ROME. 
 
 Such scenes in all their wild magnificence 
 Alone hold commune with the awe-struck eye : 
 Year after year rolls by, 
 
 Like wave on wave o'er trackless oceans vast : 
 And as the ages die and recommence, 
 They blend not with the memory of the past. 
 Time strikes but one one moment, o'er and o'er : 
 The same same image palls th' o'erwearied sense : 
 The wonder awes no more. 
 
 Ask of the savage and his solitude 
 The history and the record of the past : 
 The answer, audible on every blast, 
 By day, by night renew'd: 
 A howling of the wastes, the wilds, the woods, 
 A melancholy roar of unfrequented floods. 
 
 Mine be the haunt where Earth's crown'd city rose ; 
 
 The solitude, where every echo brings 
 
 The voice of nations : where the teeming earth 
 
 Recalls her generations into birth: 
 
 Where every stone beneath the foot-step rings 
 
 Of glory, and its track records the car 
 
 That bore the victor 'mid the spoils of war : 
 
 There print my foot in dust, all animate 
 
 With an undying spirit, dust, where Fame 
 
 Gives to the lifeless, life, and man th' immortal name — 
 
ROME. 1 
 
 Oh, thou enchanting scene! 
 Where Truth and Fancy at one fountain head 
 Fill the o'erflowing urn! — Where all that lured 
 From summer rills, or vernal meadows green, 
 My boyhood, and, in after time, matur'd 
 The spirit of the man to manly thought, 
 At once, in one embodied vision wrought, 
 Before me rose. — I stood where Brutus stood, 
 And sternly rising to his arduous task, 
 Flung from his brow feign'd Laughter's idiot mask. 
 The plain before me lay, 
 Where Cincinnatus on the unfurrow'd field 
 Thrice laid his laurell'd shield. 
 I trod on sacred ground, 
 Where Freedom, bending o'er her altar, saw 
 The second Brutus rising from the wound, 
 That at the base of Pompey's statue laid 
 Csesar beneath his blade. 
 I went where Victory either Scipio crown'd : 
 Where Cato's foot its vestige had imprest : 
 And Regulus onward stept, nor deign'd to cast 
 On suppliant Rome his view, 
 But, led by death, triumphantly withdrew. 
 I glow'd where senates caught the living fire 
 From Tully's lip, that, like the lightning flame, 
 Fell on mute gilt, and crush'd the traitor's crest: 
 
8 ROME, 
 
 And where a Virgil swept th' heroic lyre, 
 And blending with his own a nation's fame, 
 Gave Rome " th' eternal name," 
 The goddess of a world's idolatry, 
 In mailed grandeur tower'd my sight before : 
 And they, her sons, who rest not with the dead, 
 They gather'd to her rising ; they, of yore 
 The mighty: — all, whoe'er, age after age, 
 Hero, and bard, and sage, 
 All who built up her immortality, 
 Burst their sepulchral bed ; 
 And round her beam'd the godlike glow, 
 Light, that yet leads the world — the glory round 
 her brow. 
 
 Fall then, as may, her ruins! vanish all! 
 Let Time from his o'ershadowing pennons throw 
 The dust of ages on the sev'n-hill'd brow, 
 And round the wreck of Nero's golden hall 
 The fox, that haunts the desert, daily prowl, 
 And echo answer the night-shrieking owl; 
 In Livia's bath, beneath the painted roof, 
 Let swoln bats cling aloof; 
 And arcs of triumph moulder into dust, 
 Where hissing serpents twine round Caesar's broken 
 bust: 
 
ROME. 9 
 
 Yea, let her temple perish, and her dome, 
 Worthiest of God, and wonder of the world, 
 Sink, into atoms hurl'd ; 
 Nor stone be left on stone to tell its birth : 
 Yet temple, tow'r, and column are not Rome : 
 They laid not the foundation of her fame ; 
 No adamantine wall built up her mighty name : 
 But virtues, that exalted human-kind ; 
 But firm resolve, that gloriously achieved 
 The bold emprise by boundless hope conceived ; 
 But courage, casting fate and fear behind ; 
 And wisdom, whose irrevocable word 
 Subdu'd the awe-struck soul ere valour girt the 
 sword. 
 
 Thus Rome, from realm to realm, spread out her 
 
 reign ; 
 And still on her colossal wrecks imprest, 
 On all, in rival grandeur manifest, 
 The traces of an earthly god remain. 
 Lo! how her Coliseums mountain crest 
 Sublimely tow'rs, and lone, 'mid Rome's wide waste, 
 Dwells in its strength! — Trace o'er yon measureless 
 
 plain 
 Arches on arches, range by range extending, 
 That with the Latian hills' blue distance blending, 
 
10 ROME. 
 
 Fade slow from sight, and on their marble brow 
 
 The burden of collected rivers bear; 
 
 Grey aqueducts, that drink in lands remote 
 
 Pure waters at their source, and free the waves, 
 
 In torrent floods, that from the realm of air 
 
 Rome's summer pavement float, 
 
 Gushing perpetual forth as from their native caves. 
 
 Go, where the patriot chief, the old, the blind, 
 O'er marsh, o'er mount, bare rock, or wooded hill, 
 All that oppos'd his will, 
 Bow'd Nature to the yoking of his mind: 
 And on her patient strength the causeway laid, 
 For Time's eternal footstep made — 
 
 Ascend the Palatine : 
 O'er wreck of wrecks, 'mid labyrinths of decay 
 Wind thy laborious way. 
 There in Augustus' roofless hall recline ; 
 And, where the Caesars in their mortal day, 
 Amid adoring Rome, 
 
 Vouchsafed to dwell, and in an earthly home 
 Assum'd with Jove supreme divided sway: 
 While conquer'd nations, gathering from afar, 
 Led on beneath their light, 
 Flow'd, worshipping, and hail'd the Julian star, 
 Behold the unimaginable sight. 
 
ROME. 11 
 
 All, all is desolate; lo! all around, 
 Death, and the funeral mound : 
 And all beneath, throughout the Sacred Way 
 A dreary waste, and wrecks on either side, 
 That solitude from solitude divide. 
 
 Not mournfuller that region, when of yore 
 Stern bending o'er yon height's o'erhanging head, 
 Nero, at midnight's outrag'd hour, 
 Mad with impunity of pow'r, 
 From banquets where the Furies fed, 
 And masked bacchanals stagger'd round 
 Nymphs with zones unbound, 
 
 Watch'd the wide-blazing wreck his torch had spread, 
 And as the conflagration onward came, 
 And fiercer glow'd the firmament of fire 
 Crimsoning his golden lyre, 
 Harp'd Ilium's fall o'er Rome in flame. 
 
 Yet, underneath the mount, whereon I lay, 
 While with tir'd foot the pilgrim wander'd lone 
 In the drear silence of the Sacred Way, 
 'Mid wastes with weeds o'ergrown; 
 Onward, methought, I saw far nations flow, 
 As to their central home ; 
 And the wide desert, fluctuating, glow 
 
U ROME. 
 
 With restless multitudes ; and one the voice 
 
 That rose from all: that voice, the shout of Rome. 
 
 Methought, before me past, in mournful weeds, 
 
 Kings, uncrown'd kings, whose link'd captivity 
 
 Made proud the Roman eye : 
 
 And ivory images aloft display'd 
 
 Of conquer'd realms ; and laurell'd chiefs array'd 
 
 With victory: and in robes of snowy fold, 
 
 Priests, and their victims, that Clitumnas fed, 
 
 Jove's milk-white bullocks of gigantic mould : 
 
 And battle-breathing steeds, 
 
 Their manes in wild luxuriance floating o'er : 
 
 Pards, and the brindled forms that Libya breeds : 
 
 The war-neigh mingling with the lion roar. 
 
 Here elephants, that spoils of nations bore, 
 
 'Mid clouds of dust that darkness round them roll'd, 
 
 Wreath' d up the column of their trunks on high, 
 
 In search of purer sky : 
 
 There, chariots, charged with Victory, moving on 
 
 In order, under eagles, wrought in gold, 
 
 Swell'd the slow triumph; while thro' either arch, 
 
 Where burnt the battle on the breathing stone, 
 
 Aurelian wound his march. 
 
 Four milk-white coursers bore the god along, 
 
 Timing their measur'd paces to consent 
 
 Of clarions, and each loud-voic'd instrument, 
 
ROME. 13 
 
 And choral thunder of the Paean song. 
 
 His trophied car, labouring along the way, 
 
 Like a war-laden vessel that divides 
 
 The rolling of the tides, 
 
 Sever'd the myriads floating round th' array. 
 
 And where a slave bore up, with oustretch'd hands, 
 
 Her fetters' galling bands, 
 
 Slow, with majestic pace, the Palmyrene, 
 
 Bright in her beauty, radiant from afar, 
 
 In blaze of jewels seen, 
 
 The conqueror of the East, the Syrian queen, 
 
 Thro' shouting Rome led on Aurelian's car, 
 
 Grac'd the triumphal pomp, and glorified the war. 
 
 Ye ! on whose sires of old the galling yoke 
 Lay heavy! ye, on Danube's blood-stain'd soil, 
 Where Victory pil'd Rome's trophy'd spoil: 
 Or where dark Nile her swarthy myriads fed : 
 Or where, 'mid gliding Euphrats' golden meads, 
 Sprang the couch'd lion from th' o'ershadowing reeds ; 
 Or Tygris, like an arrow sped, 
 Severing the green isle from the sandy main : 
 Or where, athwart the Parthian plain, 
 The archer, flying, shower'd behind 
 Shafts that outstript the wind: 
 Or where the Briton turn'd with hunter spear 
 
14 ROME. 
 
 The legion's mail'd career ; 
 
 Ere yet before Rome's present god 
 
 The Cambrian monarch calmly trod, 
 
 And sternly grasp'd his lion chain : 
 
 Stern, as when conqueror in his scythed car 
 
 He mow'd the ranks, and strow'd on Britain's plain 
 
 Rome's iron field of war, 
 
 And still'd her rout beneath the roaring main : 
 
 Calm, as when peaceful on the ocean's side, 
 
 At eve's slow turn of flood, 
 
 He leant upon his buckler's shaggy hide, 
 
 And saw the surge along the sea-line foam, 
 
 Heave back the golden shield, and eagle helm of 
 
 Rome. 
 Come ye! on whose bow'd strength the iron yoke 
 Heavily weighed, stand on her wreck, and say, 
 " Was it the arm of man that dealt the blow 
 " Which laid the mighty low? 
 " Or past the angel of the Lord on way, 
 " And pour'd o'er yon wide wastes outstretch'd below 
 " The vial of his wrath: — the vengeance, and the 
 
 woe?" 
 
 Stand on her wreck, and say, 
 " Art thou that Rome of whom our fathers spoke, 
 " The terrible, the thunder-bolt of war: 
 
ROME. 15 
 
 11 The sound of whose mail'd footstep from afar 
 
 " Their gather'd battle broke? 
 
 " Sleep in thy sloth, on Tyber's level shore, 
 
 " Beneath th' abandoned hills, thy ancient reign! 
 
 " Thou, golden eagle, sleep ! ne'er drunk with gore 
 
 " Thy beak shall banquet on the battle-plain: 
 
 " The war trump shall disturb thy dream no more. 
 
 " No more the giant, renovate from rest, 
 
 " Shall, scornful of his lair, 
 
 " From slumber, from a thousand years' repose, 
 
 " Start into strength ; and while around him flows 
 
 " The dark profusion of his unshorn hair, 
 
 " Strike with the lightning lance that fires the air 
 
 " The gather'd dust of ages from the shield 
 
 " That turned to flight the field." — 
 
 At God's appointed day, 
 The conquerors, and their armies, that unfurl'd 
 The banner, whose overshadowing dim'd the world, 
 Come forth, and move in might, and pass away: 
 Whether his angel scatter their array; 
 Or pestilence, or famine waste the globe : 
 Or ere the wonted hour, when ice-storms meet, 
 Wing'd at his word, 
 
 The soft snow loosing her ethereal robe, 
 O'er buried armies spread one winding sheet. 
 
16 ROME. 
 
 At God's appointed day, 
 
 They, and the world's thron'd empires, one by one, 
 
 Pass off— the work of woe — their ministration done. 
 
 But Time, that sweeps their refuse wrecks away 
 
 To Nature and her elements, again 
 
 Restores their ancient reign. 
 
 Still, as of old, ere Tyre her merchant crown'd, 
 
 The tempests, as they lash the billows, spread 
 
 The salt foam on her rock's uncovered head : 
 
 Thro' solitude, that once was Babylon, 
 
 Euphrates in its fullness rushes on ; 
 
 And still the turbid maze 
 
 Of Tyber, labouring down the Latian plain, 
 
 Thro' Rome's wide wastes and silent Ostia strays, 
 
 Discolouring, as erst, the bright cerulian main. 
 
 I heard the echo from yon hills around 
 Bring back their earliest sound, 
 The free wind wandering round the mountain brow ; 
 And where man's many-voiced lip was mute, 
 The inarticulate brute, 
 
 The lowings of the wild and wandering herd 
 Burst, where the world and Rome once hung on 
 Tully's word. — 
 
 I saw the ages backward roll'd, 
 The scenes long-past restore : 
 
ROME. 17 
 
 Scenes that Evander bad his guest behold, 
 When first the Trojan stept on Tyber's shore — 
 The shepherds in the Forum pen their fold ; 
 And the wild herdsman, on his untamed steed, 
 Goads with prone spear the heifer's foaming speed, 
 Where Rome, in second infancy, once more 
 Sleeps in her cradle. — But — in that drear waste, 
 In that rude desert, when the wild goat sprung 
 From cliff to cliff, and the Tarpeian rock 
 Lour'd o'er the untended flock, 
 And eagles on its crest their aery hung : 
 And when fierce gales bow'd the high pines, when 
 
 blaz'd 
 The lightning, and the savage in the storm 
 Some unknown godhead heard, and, awe-struck, 
 
 gaz'd 
 On Jove's imagin'd form : — 
 And in that desert, when swoln Tyber's wave 
 Went forth the Twins to save, 
 Their reedy cradle floating on his flood : 
 While yet the infants on the she-wolf clung, 
 While yet they fearless play'd her brow beneath, 
 And mingled with their food 
 The spirit of her blood, 
 As o'er them seen to breathe 
 
18 ROME. 
 
 With fond reverted neck she hung, 
 
 And lick'd in turn each babe, and formed with 
 
 fostering tongue: 
 And when the founder of imperial Rome 
 Fix'd on the robber hill, from earth aloof, 
 His predatory home, 
 
 And hung in triumph round his straw-thatcht roof 
 The wolf-skin, and huge boar tusks, and the pride 
 Of branching antlers wide : 
 And towYd in giant strength, and sent afar 
 His voice, that on the mountain echoes roll'd, 
 Stern preluding the war : 
 
 And when the shepherds left their peaceful fold, 
 And from the wild-wood lair, and rocky den, 
 Round their bold chieftain rush'd strange forms of 
 
 barbarous men : 
 Then might be seen by the presageful eye 
 The vision of a rising realm unfold, 
 And temples roof 'd with gold. 
 And in the gloom of that remorseless time, 
 When Rome the Sabine seiz'd, might be foreseen 
 In the first triumph of successful crime, 
 The shadowy arm of one of giant birth 
 Forging a chain for earth : 
 
 And, tho' slow ages roll'd their course between, 
 The form as of a Caesar when he led 
 
ROME. 19 
 
 His war-worn legions on, 
 
 Troubling the pastoral stream of peaceful Rubicon. 
 
 Such might o'er clay-built Rome have been fore- 
 told 
 By word of human wisdom. But — what word, 
 Save from thy lip, Jehovah's prophet! heard, 
 When Rome was marble, and her, temples gold, 
 And the globe Caesar's foot-stool, who when Rome 
 View'd the incommunicable name divine 
 Link a Faustina to an Antonine 
 On their polluted temple ; who but thou, 
 The prophet of the Lord ! what word, save thine, 
 Rome's utter desolation had denounc'd? 
 Yet, ere that destin'd time, 
 The love-lute, and the viol, song, and mirth, 
 Ring from her palace roofs. — Hear'st thou not yet, 
 Metropolis of earth ! 
 
 A voice borne back on every passing wind, 
 Wherever man has birth, 
 One voice, as from the lip of human-kind, 
 The echo of thy fame ? — Flow they not yet, 
 As flow'd of yore, down each successive age, 
 The chosen of the world, on pilgrimage, 
 To commune with thy wrecks, and works sublime, 
 Where genius dwells enthron'd? — Ere yet the time 
 c2 
 
20 ROME. 
 
 When the seven hills their glory shall forget, 
 Fair on thy splendour laughs the azure clime, 
 And sun-beams dart from dome to dome their light. 
 Stranger ! come forth ; and on the o'erhanging 
 
 height, 
 Hills, with gay groves and marble villas crown'd, 
 That compass her around, 
 Behold how Rome asserts her ancient claim, 
 And sole, 'mid earth's crown'd realms, assumes th* 
 
 " eternal name." 
 
ROME. 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 CONTE NTS. 
 
 A general view of Rome from the Convent of St. Onofrio. 
 — The Pantheon — St. Peter's — The Pyramid of Caius Ces- 
 tius — The Coliseum. 
 
ROME, 23 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 Whence ? from what station shall the eye command 
 
 The glorious scenery ? — Shall thy garden brow, 
 
 Fair Pincian ! fix our stand 1 
 
 Where, oft the dawn, day after day, has seen 
 
 My lone foot winding its delightful way 
 
 Thro' fragrance, and gay flow'rs, and arbors green : 
 
 And oft, when noon-tide's fiery ray 
 
 Intensely glar'd, where the dark ilex cast 
 
 O'er thy fresh fount the coolness of its shade, 
 
 Beneath its gloom I past : 
 
 Regardless not that in thy fav'rite haunt 
 
 Under that ilex shade, 
 
 While the fresh fount perpetual music made, 
 
 From the surrounding scene a Poussin drew 
 
 His rich and mellow hue : 
 
 And Claude there taught his pencil how to trace 
 
 The soft aerial grace, 
 
24 ROME. 
 
 
 That sooth'd the westering sun, whose orb of light, 
 
 Like molten gold, on the proud temple shone : 
 
 And when the cooler hour came on, 
 
 Stole the chaste tint from the meek brow of eve, 
 
 That gliding into night, 
 
 There turn'd a last, and loveliest gleam to leave. 
 
 But — nor thy brow, fair Pincian ! nor thy fount, 
 Soft-murmuring on the mount ; 
 Nor where Corsini's terrace lifts its height, 
 Severing the scene: no, nor thy green alcoves, 
 Mellini, and gay bow'rs, and golden groves, 
 Now fix my step — I seek a lovelier site, 
 A sacred spot, where a gigantic oak 
 Spreads its luxuriant boughs, by Time unbroke. 
 That tree is hallow'd. — Bears it not his name, 
 Who unto Salem's scenes, her pastoral plain, 
 Her olive-shaded mount, 
 Bleak Horeb, and pure Siloa's silver fount, 
 Gave . . . if aught less than voice of prophet strain 
 Could give . . . undying fame? — 
 'Tis Tasso's oak. — 'Twas there, at life's last close, 
 By years, yet more by woe than years, opprest, 
 The pilgrim of Onofrio came to rest. 
 What tho', awhile a sojourner, remov'd 
 From nature, under gilded roofs, in courts 
 Where Luxury resorts, 
 
ROME. 25 
 
 With princes, and proud ladies, passing fair, 
 
 The bard had dwelt : his spirit ever lov'd 
 
 The breathing of the fresh and fragrant air, 
 
 And all that nature in her wild abode 
 
 Spreads o'er free solitudes with song of bird, 
 
 Or music sweeter heard, 
 
 That with the flowing of the water flow'd : 
 
 These, that had charmed Sorrento's child, would 
 
 yield 
 To age a child's enjoyment. — Here — his home — 
 His haunt th' o'ershadowing oak. — Before him towVd 
 Th' expectant Capitol, whose laurel wreath 
 Serv'd but to mock th' unconscious brow beneath 
 The hand of envious Death. — Below him, Rome 
 Spread out her pomp : he heeded not. — Above, 
 The sun, in brightness of the blaze of noon, 
 Flam'd forth : he heeded not : — but when the moon 
 Stole out, and sweeter breathed the orange grove : 
 While all in heaven, wherein her orb was seen, 
 Seem'd, like her light, serene ; 
 And all on earth, whereon her mildness lay, 
 Calm as her soothing ray, 
 Then would her votary to that oak repair : 
 And when he felt the fresh and fragrant breeze 
 Fan his wan cheek, lifting his silver hair, 
 It seem'd to him, that with the moon on way 
 
26 ROME. 
 
 An angel ever went, 
 
 To the world- wearied man in mercy sent : 
 And he would kneel, and hail a spirit there, 
 Who, looking on his misery, bade it cease : 
 While the low voice of one, whose soul was peace, 
 Past from his lip in pray'r. 
 
 Queen of the Nations ! . . . hail ! 
 How beautiful from Latium's level plain 
 Th' Eternal City seems aloft to soar! 
 Palace, and tow'r, and fane, 
 And swelling domes, and votive columns rise. 
 The crest that proudly bore up Antonine 
 Lifts its colossal size : 
 
 And imag'd wars, that Trajan's shaft entwine, 
 Sculpture his triumph on the dark blue skies. 
 There, Tyber flows, and rolling on its flood 
 By turbid torrents fed, 
 Restlessly labours down his yellow bed, 
 'Mid palaces, and wrecks and solitude. 
 Here, obelisks, th' ^Egyptian's ancient pride, 
 Whose shadows, journeying with the sun, beheld 
 How Nile beneath their brow his deluge swell'd; 
 Then slowly wafted burden'd ocean o'er, 
 Rested at Rome's command, and tow'r'd on Tyber's 
 shore. 
 
ROME. 27 
 
 View'st thou yon granite columns, on whose crest 
 
 Corinthian grace and grandeur rest? 
 
 There, radiant, 'mid the wrecks of time, 
 
 In beauty, chaste — simplicity, sublime — 
 
 Stands the Pantheon: and uplifts above 
 
 The tempest, and the range of earthly storm, 
 
 The dome that held the synod of high Jove : 
 
 And opening its proud summit on the sky, 
 
 Gave to the worshipper no meaner form 
 
 To mingle with his bright idolatry, 
 
 Than heaven, and its resplendent imag'ry ; 
 
 The sun a god by day, the moon by night, 
 
 The wandering planet, and the fixed star 
 
 That darts its beam from far, 
 
 Or comet in wide course trailing its lurid light. 
 
 But far above its soaring amplitude 
 Behold another dome, 
 
 In the blue element with sun-shine blended. — 
 Another and the same, o'er awe-struck Rome, 
 Amid the solitude of space suspended, 
 Crowns the sublimest fane by mortal trod, 
 And swells the choral hymn that lauds the living 
 God.— 
 
 Sublimest Temple of the living God! 
 Shall I no more the thrilling transport feel 
 
28 ROME. 
 
 That o'er me came, when, ere thy court I trod, 
 
 I saw, far off, a crown of braided light 
 
 Purple thy cross? that purple light, which eve 
 
 Seem'd like a glory round thy dome to weave, 
 
 When in the peaceful hour, half day, half night, 
 
 Th' aerial wonder first entranc'd my view, 
 
 And more than mortal power my spirit onward drew. 
 
 The sun had through a gorgeous canopy 
 Of gold, of purple, and of azure sheen, 
 Wheel'd his broad orb, and set with glow serene ; 
 And all was stillness to the ear and eye: 
 The labours of the day began to cease, 
 And all without was calm, and all within was peace ; 
 But deep the glow and tumult in my heart, 
 When on th' eternal flint my footstep rung : 
 Thought, fancy, feeling, to one object clung; 
 Nor joy, nor woe, there claim'd divided part. 
 On, to the temple ; on, I sped my way, 
 Reckless that Tyber's flood athwart my passage lay. 
 I saw no flood, no court, no pillar'd zone 
 That girt it round: I heard no fountain play; 
 With guideless foot, as sunk the dying day, 
 I sped impatient on ; 
 
 And stood beneath the dome, at fall of night, 
 What time a priest, dim seen, slow pac'd with 
 lonely light. 
 
ROME. 29 
 
 Else, all was darkness ; all mysterious gloom : 
 Save where, bright flaming round the altar, rose 
 The silver lamps, that day nor night repose, 
 And here and there the baldachin illume, 
 Where the colossal column's brazen frame 
 Catches on wreathed spires by fits the gliding flame. 
 And, save those lamps, and that departing light, 
 Darkness above, beneath me, and around : 
 No marble glitter'd thro' the gloom profound; 
 Tomb, statue, column, none disturb'd the sight: 
 The spirit of devotion fill'd the whole, 
 And sealing up the lip, held commune with the soul. 
 
 Dome! worthiest of the God! if worthy aught 
 By human genius wrought : 
 If worthy aught, save the invisible shrine, 
 The temple of the heart, in whose pure cell, 
 Illumin'd by thy presence, Spirit divine ! 
 High thoughts celestial dwell. 
 Dome ! worthiest of the God ! shall I no more 
 In silence there adore 1 
 
 No more with breath suspended, bow to hear 
 A voice, as of a note of angel song, 
 In single sweetness stealing on the ear? 
 Or that rich stream, which swelling as it roll'd 
 
30 ROM E. 
 
 The echoing aisles around, 
 
 Shook the responsive dome with measur'd sound? 
 
 Or, when the day begins to dim, 
 
 Hear from a chord that vibrates in the heart, 
 
 The peaceful echo of the vesper hymn ; 
 
 And feel, the while its last low cadence closes, 
 
 How with the dying day the soothed soul reposes? 
 
 Shall I no more, unseen, 
 When, like the rest of death, sleep lies on Rome, 
 Woo Night's cool breath, th' aerial founts between? 
 And when with iron mace on tow'r and dome, 
 Time strikes with thousand hands the midnight bell, 
 Rousing the pale monk from his sleepless cell, 
 There view the moon wheel her bright orb serene, 
 And all her glory spread o'er that unrivall'd scene ? 
 
 Oh, thou, fair Moon! whose soft and silver light 
 Beams like a milder day, 
 Shall I ne'er view again, thou Sun of Night! 
 Beneath thy beauteous ray, 
 The temple and the tow ring of its dome, 
 Drawn up, me thought, by thy celestial might: 
 As if, on earth, as on the moving main, 
 Sov'reign alike o'er both, thou heldst unrivaU'd reign ? 
 
ROME. 31 
 
 They seem'd to soar ; while in thy light array'd, 
 That fill'd with splendour all the court around, 
 The crescents of the stately colonnade, 
 Range within range, by triple pillars crown'd, 
 Shone, as thy beams, round each successive row, 
 That softly swell' d, or sank away from sight, 
 In ceaseless gleam of undulating flow, 
 Here boldly seen, there furtively betray 'd, 
 Shade chasing light, and light pursuing shade, 
 Glided like summer waves, when winds forget to 
 
 blow. 
 And all the while, rainbows in rainbows wreath'd 
 Their colours, borrow'd of the lunar beams 
 Around the rival fountain's pillar'd streams. 
 They rose and fell : and in their rise and fall 
 Show Yd light and music on the eye and ear : 
 Like playful spirits of the northern sphere, 
 Waving the banners that lost day recall, 
 And as they quiver in their native sky, 
 Breathe a soft voice of flame and melody. 
 
 Thou, that amid Aurelian's war-fenc'd bound 
 Haughtily tow'r'st, making thyself a part 
 Of Rome's proud guardianship — unlike thou art 
 To all, far off or nigh, that rise around, 
 Palace, or dome, or castle-turret crown'd, 
 
32 ROME. 
 
 Or triumph arch — Cestian! I know thee now: 
 Thy crest, that tapering from its base, spires up, 
 Edg'd like a warrior's lance. — But — why that brow 
 Rais'd as in scorn? — Is it, that thou alone, 
 Pre-eminent above the vale of death, 
 Thy crest alone, that the low sun illumes, 
 Lengthens its pointed shade o'er those beneath 
 In darkness mouldering : o'er the strangers' tombs, 
 The unhallow'd graves ? — Yet not in thee lies hid, 
 Not in thy cell, deceitful Pyramid ! 
 Rests the committed urn — thou, to thy trust, 
 Like those that in the ^Egyptian's sea of sand 
 Have op'd their chambers, thou, alike unjust, 
 Hast to the spoiler's desecrating hand 
 Loos'd the sepulchral dust. 
 
 Ah ! will they rest 
 The strangers in the sanctuary of the dead : 
 They, whose last sleep is in a foreign bed : 
 Whose sepulchre unblest 
 Invites the scoffer's tread? 
 
 Enough, stern Rome ! their grave is delv'd in earth 
 That smil'd not on their birth: 
 That they in death stretch'd out a restless hand 
 In vain ... for that far land : 
 That when beneath his dart the sufferers lay, 
 No kindred soothing stole a pang away: 
 
 
ROME. 33 
 
 Enough, that on the darkness of their bier 
 
 Fell not a kindred tear : 
 
 Enough, the taunt that round their hurry'd hearse 
 
 The blessing turn'd to curse. 
 
 We ask not, Rome! thy priest, nor bell to toll 
 
 Peace to the passing soul. 
 
 The spirit to the Lord of life is fled, 
 
 Reposing on th' atonement of its God. 
 
 Yield what our nature claims, earth's covering bed, 
 
 Where dust with dust may rest beneath the sod. 
 
 Hallow in Death's abode the sabbath of the dead! — 
 
 Th' enormous Coliseum's bulk behold : — 
 Like some lone promontory's storm-rent brow, 
 That spreads its shadow o'er the deep below, 
 And back repels the waves in tempests roll'd : 
 A lonely island in the sea of time ; 
 On whose deep-rooted base 
 Ages on ages in their ceaseless race 
 Strike, and break off, and pass in idle foam, 
 Forgotten: thus, amid the wrecks of Rome, 
 The Coliseum lifts its brow sublime ; 
 And, looking down on all that moves below, 
 O'er all the restless range, 
 Where war and violence have work'd their change, 
 
U ROM E. 
 
 Tow'rs motionless, and wide around it throws 
 
 The shadow of its strength, — its own sublime repose. 
 
 Amid the deep arcades, and winding cells, 
 Eternal silence dwells : 
 
 Save when' tempestuous whirlwinds, as they sweep 
 Thro' chasms yawning wide, huge fragments throw 
 From the rock crest, as from a mountain brow : 
 Or, mingling with the murmur of the air, 
 O'er altars, where of yore a shaft of fire 
 Rose from the martyr's pyre, 
 The solitary pilgrim breathes a pray'r ; 
 Or grey-stol'd brethren, at the stated time, 
 In slow procession float, and chant the deep-ton d 
 rhyme. 
 
 Not deeper felt that silence, that suspense 
 Of being, that here lay on all around, 
 When agony of pleasure chain'd each sense, 
 In willing horror bound ; 
 
 While swarm o'er swarm the gather'd nation hung : 
 And where round circles widening circles spread, 
 And arch out-soaring arch 
 Bath'd in the sunbeams its ambitious head, 
 Watch'd, as the dying gladiator leant 
 On his sustaining arm, and o'er the wound, 
 
ROME. 35 
 
 Whence the large life-drops struggled, lowly bent, 
 
 And calmly looked on earth, 
 
 As one who gradual sinks in still repose, 
 
 His eye in death to close 
 
 On the familiar spot that view'd his blissful birth. 
 
 Unlike the actor on the theatre, 
 Who feigns the wound unfelt, that Roman dy'd : 
 He too an actor : and, when death drew nigh, 
 By Rome's tremendous silence glorify'd, 
 Firmly sustain d his part. 
 No sound, no gesture, e'er to ear or eye 
 Betray'd the sufferance of the pang severe, 
 The hand that grasp'd his heart, 
 Save the low pant that mark'd his lessening breath, 
 And one last deep-drawn groan — the agony of death. 
 Shout, then, and bursting rapture, and the roar 
 Of myriads — then commingling life-streams ran, 
 And Rome inebriate drank the blood of man, 
 And swell'd the human hecatomb with gore 
 Of birds, and beasts., and monsters of the main ; 
 While death pil'd up the pyre — the slayers on the 
 slain. 
 
 All, all are swept away, 
 Who made the world a gazing theatre, 
 d2 
 
36 ROME. 
 
 Th' arena, thundering to their war career. 
 
 But thou, enduring monument ! 
 
 Tho' thy Cyclopean stones in Rome's dark hour 
 
 Built up her fort and tow'r, 
 
 And palaces, whose gloomy grandeur vast, 
 
 O'er her proud temples darkness cast : 
 
 Tho' all-destructive Time 
 
 Has bow'd thy crest sublime, 
 
 And storms, that crush'd the rocks, thy glory rent : 
 
 Tho' the unsparing earthquake, in its ire, 
 
 That shook the pillars of the globe below, 
 
 Has rock'd thee to and fro, 
 
 Shattering thy mountain base : 
 
 Yet, thou, amid the wrecks of human pride, 
 
 Hast heav'n and earth defy'd — 
 
 The flame-wing'd bolt, and war's insatiate sword : 
 
 And view'd around thee perish, race on race, 
 
 The Goth, the Hun, the Norman, horde on horde, 
 
 Vanish without a trace ; 
 
 All, all who envy'd Rome in flame 
 
 The echo of her name : 
 
 While ages roll'd on ages, circling by, 
 
 Grav'd on thy forehead, " Rome's eternity." 
 
 It rests not on thy brow. 
 Tho' glorying in thy strength, at sight of thee, 
 
ROME. 37 
 
 Rome, widow of the monarch-people, raise 
 
 The shadowy sceptre of her sov'reignty; 
 
 And, of the wreck of wrecks regardless, gaze 
 
 Once more exultant on her sev'n-hih'd throne : 
 
 Yet thou, forgetful of thy palmy birth, 
 
 Thou, proudest trophy of triumphant war, 
 
 Shalt lie a wreck on earth ; 
 
 Stone after stone, the mountain shall descend ; 
 
 And a vile weed, in dust and darkness sown, 
 
 A weed beneath thy base, the structure rend, 
 
 And reckless of a Coliseum's fall, 
 
 O'er the recumbent rock spread its sepulchral pall. 
 
 There, in the after time, 
 When Nature o'er the mouldering wrecks beneath 
 Spreads the wild wood, and hangs her fragrant 
 
 wreath 
 On bush and bow'r, the mountain pine sublime 
 The fury of the tempest shall withstand, 
 Th' umbrageous chestnut her bright pomp expand, 
 And when the forest mourns its glory gone, 
 Th' undying oak's dark leaf wave in the wind alone. 
 And haply on that grave, where Death of yore 
 In unveil'd horror stood, 
 And Rome re-echo'd the infuriate roar 
 Of myriads, as her nation, drunk with blood, 
 
38 ROME. 
 
 To the stern Furies their libation made, 
 
 Far other shout shall ring from Pleasure's festive 
 
 bow'r. 
 There in the jocund season's reeling hour, 
 When the vines lend to earth a purple shade, 
 Gleam o'er the Appian Way, and bloom 
 On Scipio's violated tomb, 
 The hamlets round, exultant at the call, 
 The nectar of their feasts shall bear away, 
 Making th' autumnal moon perpetual holiday. 
 
 Hark ! hear you not the festive shout ? 
 Shouts as of conquerors gathering up the spoil, 
 Bring in the gladsome toil. 
 I see the ivy-wreath'd, the revel rout : 
 Earth widely reels around, 
 Rent heaven yields back the sound : 
 The roar that swells the choral song, recalls 
 The orgies of the god — Evoe's festivals. 
 
 Such was the shout that rous'd the Menades : 
 So from their brow was seen to fall 
 Flow'rs that wreath' d their coronal. 
 Thus the profusion of their streaming hair 
 Tangled its glossy darkness on the breeze : 
 So flash'd their timbrels trembling on the air, 
 
ROME. 39 
 
 While, with swoln clusters crown'd, 
 They wav'd the thyrsus round : 
 And one, far lovelier than the rest, 
 The dappled fawn-skin floating round her breast, 
 Tim'd to the cymbals' clash her step and song, 
 And led the panther car 
 
 That bore in youth's bright bloom the God of Joy 
 along. 
 
ROME. 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Rome, the Metropolis of Art. — The Farnese, the Farnesina, 
 the Galatea of Raffaelle — The Aurora of Guercino and of 
 Guido — The St. Jerome of Domenichino-^St. Peter's — 
 The Sistine Chapel — The Transfiguration. — Statues — Mi- 
 chael Angelo, Canova — St. Cecilia — The Moses of M. An- 
 gelo — The Vatican by torch-light — The Torso — The 
 Apollo. — Conclusion : the destruction of Rome predicted 
 by Daniel in the Vision of the Four Empires. 
 
ROME, 43 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 Thou, at whose birth 
 
 Descendent Genius came on viewless wing, 
 
 And passing o'er the race that people earth, 
 
 Deign'd the high gift, for glorious use design'd, 
 
 The incommunicable talent bring : 
 
 And on thee laid from that primeval hour, 
 
 As one ordain' d to elevate mankind, 
 
 Charge and entrusted pow'r, 
 
 By energy of spirit, and the charm 
 
 Of cultur'd taste refin'd, 
 
 To steal the wand from Circe's lifted arm, 
 
 And from youth's tempted lip to turn aside 
 
 Th' enchanter's cup : — if thine th' exalted aim, 
 
 Following thy native guide, 
 
 In breathing marble, or harmonious hues, 
 
 Thy spirit to infuse: 
 
 And build th' immortal name 
 
 On Bonarotti's, or a Raffaelle's fame ; 
 
44 ROME. 
 
 Making each after age, and human kind, 
 Heirs of thy views sublime : 
 Forsake the limits of thy native clime, 
 The sabbath of thy home. 
 Go, where a voice, that haunts the desert, calls 
 The stranger from gay realms, and regions fair, 
 O'er many a frozen Alp and Appennine, 
 To commune, on the mountains bleak and bare, 
 With spirits, 'mid a waste that once was Rome,- 
 On dust of Caesars. Seek yon roofless hall, 
 Where, reckless of a world, Augustus hung 
 O'er Maro's harp. Wander the woods among, 
 Where yet Blandusia to the solar beam 
 Flings her translucent stream : 
 Or, under shadow of th' o'erhanging cave, 
 Where Anio's icy wave 
 Pours on the rock her foamy waterfall, 
 'Mid Tivoli's green glades the bard's lone haunts 
 recall. 
 
 Idolater of Nature ! watch the sun 
 On Aventine's lone summit : watch his rise 
 In brightness, and the brightness of his beam, 
 That, purpling day's last gleam, 
 Gives all his glory to th' Italian skies. 
 Adore the goddess on her central shrine : 
 
 
ROME. 45 
 
 Ascend the brow of Palatine : 
 That mount, her altar, that blue heav'n, her dome, 
 Her haunt, deserted Rome ; 
 On whose wide wreck triumphant Time, 
 In scorn of Caesar's passing hour, 
 Has grav'd with arm of mightier pow'r 
 Grandeur more sublime ; 
 And o'er his realm of ruin spread 
 Awe that surrounds the tomb — the silence of the 
 dead. 
 
 Pursue her foot-step on that hallow'd ground, 
 Where when grey Morn first glimmer'd, or the hue 
 Of sober-vested Eve embrown'd the view, 
 Nature her Poussin found, 
 'Mid mounds on mounds confus'dly hurl'd, 
 Like fragments of a shattered world, 
 Palace on palace rais'd and rent, 
 Temple, and tow'r, and battlement ; 
 These, strown on earth, those masses bare 
 That by their weight self-pois'd in air, 
 Like clouds in ponderous columns riv'n, 
 Lean on the firmament of heav'n — 
 He view'd the pines, that crest yon height, 
 Cut with green edge the dome of light ; 
 He view'd yon ilex broadly throw 
 
4G ROM E. 
 
 Darkness over earth below. 
 
 Before him, lone Soracte's steep 
 
 Rose like an island from the deep ; 
 
 Beneath him, stretch'd in proud display, 
 
 The thousand-templed city lay, 
 
 And 'mid blue heav'n the soaring dome 
 
 Spread its sublimity o'er Rome. 
 
 When, in masses broad and bold, 
 Sun-light and shade strong contrast hold, 
 And robe the giant wrecks, and cast 
 Their wizardry o'er ages past : 
 And when the moon at day -light fall 
 Wander's along Aurelian's wall, 
 And, glancing, slides from tow'r to tow'r, 
 Half hid beneath the ivy'd bow'r : 
 From that bright sun, that moon, that shade, 
 And tints by Time's chaste pencil laid, 
 Silvery colours, mellowing slow 
 On all that suffers change below, 
 From the grey wreck, and mouldering stone 
 Gather — the softest — richest tone, 
 And blend beneath Rome's lucid sky 
 Thy hues to visual harmony. — 
 
 Go, where the palace, and the painted dome 
 Await thy coming— oft and oft explore, 
 
ROME. 47 
 
 In brilliancy of richest hues array'd, 
 
 All that Caracci's cultur'd art display'd 
 
 On roofs that flame with gold — and o'er and o'er 
 
 Trace what the enchanter's pencil subtly laid 
 
 On Farnesina's love-illumind wall : 
 
 Each charm that every grace to Raffaelle gave 
 
 The senses to enthrall : 
 
 Where a sea-goddess beaming on the sight, 
 
 His Galatea glides along the wave, 
 
 Radiant in bloom of youth, and beauty's living light. — 
 
 Gaze on Guercino's roof, 
 Where day and darkness mix the woof, 
 And the slow hours in lingering flight, 
 Steal here and there a star from night. 
 But round thee wind a lovelier spell, 
 Where Guido and the Graces dwell. 
 
 Nymphs of the dawn ! before whose way 
 Bright Hesper, harbinger of day, 
 Speeds, where on wing Aurora show'rs 
 O'er air and earth her freshest flow'rs ; 
 Your course is on the clouds that rise 
 On roseate wings and robe the skies, 
 And on their billowy floatings bear 
 Your buoyant feet through viewless air. 
 
48 ROME. 
 
 Around the sun you weave your dance, 
 And, onward, hand in hand, advance 
 In fleetest measures that outrace 
 His courser's fiery-footed pace : 
 While one, more beauteous than the rest, 
 Half-veil'd in Twilight's shadowy vest, 
 Leans back, reluctant to display 
 Her blushes to the God of day. 
 
 Go, where celestial visions weave 
 The bliss that dying saints conceive. 
 Art thou yet link'd to earth, thou, Heir of Age,* 
 Worn out with life's long pilgrimage ? 
 Thy limbs sink underneath their burden, Death 
 Has o'er thee stretch'd his shadow : voice, nor 
 
 breath — 
 One moment more — pass thy pale lip again. — 
 Yet — in the gaze of that uplifted eye 
 The vital spark bright beams. Intense desire 
 Concentres there a fire, 
 That gathers from the inmost soul a light. 
 It is the Spirit sees the mystery: 
 The crucify'd, the Saviour's form divine, 
 Hallowing thy earthly shrine, 
 
 * St. Jerom of Domenichino. 
 
ROME. 49 
 
 Beams visible before thy tranced eye. 
 
 Mortal ! thy lip, ere death, tastes immortality — 
 
 Far higher yet, 
 And with a holier feeling deeply fraught, 
 Beneath the dome where daring Angelo 
 His vast conception wrought, 
 And grav'd on the colossal pile below 
 The grandeur of his soul, 
 And call'd on Time, age after age, to grace 
 And harmonize the whole : 
 Within the sanctuary, at the hallow'd shrine 
 Where Art is sacred, and the imag'd stone 
 A worshipp'd form divine ; 
 Where, emulous of RafFaelle, marbles glow 
 With hues like linked harmonies, 
 And the mosaic's fairy-paved dies, 
 In colours challenging eternity, 
 Start from the massive pillars, and illume 
 The aisles slow-lengthening into sacred gloom : 
 Where all the air is incense : where each sound 
 A voice of hymned melody, 
 
 And pour'd throughout the Temple's space profound, 
 The spirit feels a present Deity, 
 Enthusiast! there sublime thy soul 
 Freed from the visual world, and earth's unfelt con- 
 troul. 
 
50 ROME. 
 
 Away, where Genius calls, 
 Lone dweller in the Sistine's hallow'd walls : 
 There meditate the mortal's bold design : 
 There trace the mind divine 
 That, with creative pow'r endu'd 
 His pencil, as its lightning speed pursu'd 
 The quick conception of each winged thought : 
 As if the Spirit had the vision wrought 
 Upon the humid clay, 
 Colouring the fleeting shade ere yet it fled away. 
 
 Vast is the scene, and various : it unfolds 
 All Nature — her first rise — her final doom : 
 Time that once was, the form of years to come, 
 Earth and her generations : — it upholds 
 On tablatures, whose glowing colours fall 
 Like prophet visions on the pictur'd wall, 
 The empires, and their changes, — all foretold 
 By lips that spake of old, 
 Sibyl and Seer, whose forms yon roof illume. 
 It dares embody in its sweep sublime 
 Invisible imaginings, when Time 
 Fledg'd his new wing : it dares draw forth the hour 
 When, from his rest, the Infinite in pow'r, 
 With outstretch'd arms that part the elements, 
 Came floating down, and silencing the storm, 
 
ROME. 51 
 
 From darkness and confus'd chaotic strife 
 Call'd out the sun, the moon, and things unborn, 
 As tho' they were, and gave the formless, form, 
 And to the lifeless, life. — 
 
 It dares, in one tremendous view, pourtray 
 The realms of heav'n and hell, 
 And on the vision of the Eternal dwell : 
 Sublimely picturing to our earthly eye 
 The awful doom of that predicted day, 
 When, at th' Archangel's voice, the trumpet's sound, 
 God's wonder work shall pass in flame away, 
 And Time subside into Eternity. 
 The heav'n of heav'ns unfolds ! the Seraphim 
 Veil their prone brows, and kneel with folded wing 
 Omnipotence encompassing ! 
 No golden harp rings out the glory hymn. 
 Hark ! the last trumpet peals the final sound : 
 All nature hears the dreadful summoning. 
 Lo ! Death, uprising from the deep profound, 
 Gives back his prey : and the wide grave of earth, 
 The dust from whence we rose, wherein we lay, 
 Reanimate with birth, 
 
 Teems, as its wrecks the form of flesh resume, 
 To meet the Maker on his judgment throne ; 
 Where God, in light, alone, 
 e 2 
 
52 ROME. 
 
 In unapproachable light, th' eternal God, 
 
 Severing the sons of man, dooms each his last abode. 
 
 Thus, by the Sistine walls encompass'd round, 
 Lone, on forbidden ground, 
 The mighty master wrought his boundless plan : 
 Bequeathing earth the image of his mind, 
 The noblest heritage man ere to man, 
 Genius to Art consign'd. 
 
 There — while 'twas giv'n th' insatiate eye to trace 
 Its bright, original grace, 
 Ere yet the shadow of invidious Time 
 Had pal'd its glowing hue, 
 And dim'd the grandeur of the forms sublime : 
 When first Bramante's arm the veil withdrew, 
 There youthful Raflfaelle, kindling at the sight, 
 Drank the creative beam that filled his soul with light. 
 
 Forms, then, sublimer far than ever earth 
 Her dust to mould our frail existence gave ; 
 Forms, that ne'er left a transitory birth 
 To moulder in the grave : 
 But such as nigh th' eternal throne 
 Live, and move in light alone ; 
 Such as around Ezekiel glow'd, 
 And imag'd rapt Isaiah's ode, 
 
ROME. 53 
 
 On Raffaelle's vision deign'd to gleam, 
 
 And mingled with his earthly dream— 
 
 And when his spirit pass'd from earth away, 
 
 To hallowing wonder turn'd a nation's tear : 
 
 As Rome, in veneration o'er his bier 
 
 The tablet hung, that to the adoring eye 
 
 Shone like a vision of eternal day. 
 
 Death on the mortal lay : 
 
 But o'er his brow beam'd immortality : 
 
 Bright beam'd from Tabor, that divinely blaz'd, 
 
 While the Apostles, tranc'd with holiest fear, 
 
 Beheld, in glory of the Godhead rais'd 
 
 Above our earthly sphere, 
 
 O'ershadowing with light the noon-day sky, 
 
 Soar the transfigur'd form, sun'd with divinity. — 
 
 I leave awhile unsought 
 Each statue breathing of the olden time : 
 Wrecks of the wonderous works that Phidias 
 
 wrought, 
 By Homer's song inspir'd. — 
 Here Sculpture, in his own Italian clime, 
 By Ariosto charm'd or Dante fired, 
 Fashions the shapeless marble, and beholds 
 Beneath him, at his touch creative, start 
 Life from the rock, and forms unrivall'd found 
 
54 ROM E. 
 
 At each far limit of contrasted art : 
 Now, stern, sublime, by awful terror crown'd, 
 A Pallas issuing from the brow of Jove : 
 Now, grac'd with all the Cestus could impart : 
 A Venus in omnipotence of love. 
 
 Long ages roll'd their course those bounds between. 
 Slow, at its rise, ere Leo's golden time, 
 When first by Arno's gifted natives seen 
 Art faintly dawn'd, in youth's impatient prime 
 Bold Angelo, amid the quarry's gloom, 
 Rude Nature's shapeless womb, 
 Struck the rock mass. — Forth from th' impassion'd 
 
 stroke, 
 Like giants starting from repose, awoke 
 Grandeur and Strength. — The rock, in after hour, 
 Tam'd into softness by Canova's art, 
 Stole from his touch, his soul, th' enticing pow'r 
 That woos, and wins the heart. 
 Sculptor of Beauty ! on thy grave 
 Death broke the mould the Graces gave ; 
 Death has relax'd th' unweary'd arm, 
 That, bright'ning Nature's brightest charm, 
 Repos'd not till its touch could trace 
 The glidings of embellish'd grace 
 Along the polish'd marble seen to move : 
 
ROME. 55 
 
 Now Hebe's bosom moulds, or subtly bends 
 A Nymph's light foot, whose dance on air ascends, 
 Or smiles on Psyche's lip, warm by the breath of 
 Love. 
 
 'Tis not the skill, though exquisite, nor all 
 That Grace e'er gave, or Beauty can impart, 
 Tho' Grace and Beauty the charm'd sense enthrall : 
 It is not these that to the sculptor's art 
 Fetter th' impassion'd soul : 'tis then, alone, 
 When Sympathy, whose touch subdues the heart, 
 Draws forth the tear, that to ourselves unknown 
 Glides, as we stilly bend, like statues, o'er the stone. — 
 
 'Twas thus with me, when stole upon my view 
 Thy image, Maid divine !* 
 Laid on the tomb beneath thy votive shrine. 
 As one, whose rest was slumber, thou did'st seem : 
 And so the chisel had that slumber wrought, 
 That when I lowly o'er thee hung, methought 
 My breath would have dissolv'd thy living dream : 
 Yet 'twas not sleep, but Death had there imprest 
 Sleep's soft similitude, that quiet rest 
 Which seals the eye-lid of an infant, laid 
 
 * St. Cecilia. 
 
56 ROM E. 
 
 On the maternal breast. 
 
 Yet thine no painless, thine no natural death : 
 
 I saw upon thy marble neck display'd 
 
 The severance of the blade, 
 
 The wound that immaturely clos'd thy breath. 
 
 Thus, in an after age, thy form was found 
 
 Within the tomb — 'tis said — 
 
 Fresh, fragrant, undecay'd. 
 
 Thus wert thou seen : so wav'd thy parted hair 
 
 In many a graceful braid : 
 
 Thus, to the sword's descending edge resign'd, 
 
 That beauteous neck, more smooth, more pure, more 
 
 fair 
 Than monumental marble, low inclin'd. 
 And thou did'st turn from sight, 
 When pass'd thy spirit to the realm of light ; 
 So as I view"d thy statue where it lay, 
 And turn'd from sight away, t 
 As if the image that thy form display'd 
 Thy secret thought had known, 
 And there thy last— thy only fear betray'd : 
 That ere entomb'd, some daring eye unblest 
 Should on thy earthly charms too rashly rest, 
 And draw from heav'nly bliss thy spirit down. 
 'Twas thus I saw thy character imprest, 
 Thy soul, celestial Maid ! so sculptur'd on that stone. 
 
ROME. 
 
 Why bends the pilgrim in religious gloom 
 Before yon form colossal ! — There, behold, 
 The man of God, the prophet, deeply fraught, 
 Bold Angelo ! with thy sublimes! thought 
 
 Sculptur'd on Julius' tomb. 
 
 Thrice-guerdon'd Angelo ! 
 Thy arm. that grac'd the Sistine, upward bore 
 Agrippa's dome, and. pois'd in ether, hung : 
 And Sculpture, who beheld thee brooding o'er 
 The Torso's giant mould, 
 Bad thee, alone, thee sole, the chisel hold, 
 Whose stroke, like lightning flame, 
 Shiver d the rock, when from the marble came 
 Th' Avenger. But — why burst yon flakes of Are 
 Forth from his front ! Why more than mortal ire 
 Deepens his furrow'd brow ? 
 Thus Moses erst to Israel's host appear'd : 
 Thus wav'd in thick voluminous fold 
 The dark profusion of his unshorn beard, 
 Like wreaths of storm-toss'd flames around him 
 
 roll'd : 
 When down the reeling mount th' Avenger trod, 
 And rent in wrath the veil, which dim'd the glow 
 That round him blaz'd : what time the living God, 
 
58 ROME. 
 
 Mov'd by his servant's pray'r, on Sinai's stand 
 Descendent deign'd, before his mortal eye 
 In mercy spread the shadow of his hand, 
 "While pass'd his Glory by. — 
 
 Go, and insatiate, o'er and o'er, 
 Th' exhaustless Vatican explore. 
 Thro' labyrinthine courts pursue, 
 Thro' galleries length'ning on the view, 
 Hall after hall, dome after dome, 
 Treasuries of iEgypt, Greece, and Rome, 
 Where, all above, around, beneath, 
 The marble generations breathe, 
 And plunder'd tombs their wrecks supply, 
 To line the walls with imag'ry ; 
 And golden roofs their radiance throw 
 O'er rich mosaics spread below ; 
 And fountains in perpetual play 
 Temper with sparkling show'rs the day. 
 There, oft retrace, when Night has laid 
 O'er all her solitude of shade, 
 The forms that live along the walls, 
 When one lone torch illumes the halls, 
 Impregnate with Promethean light : 
 Lo ! bolder beauties rise on sight, 
 
ROME. 59 
 
 And subtler graces outward steal, 
 Than suns with all their beams reveal. 
 
 What giant of the elder time 
 Tow'rs from the Torso's wreck sublime ? 
 Beneath the flames that broadly fell 
 In masses on the muscle's swell, 
 Methought that form colossal told 
 The wonders sung by bards of old. 
 Such was the column, that of yore, 
 When Atlas paus'd, the world upbore. 
 What tho', at close of mortal toil, 
 The victor of th' Hesperian spoil 
 Look peaceful on a peaceful earth, 
 And claim of Jove to crown his birth : 
 Yet still those muscles, in their play, 
 Those sinews yet their strength betray. 
 Thus, when the storm has ceas'd to rave, 
 O'er ocean heaves that swell of wave, 
 Whose rollings in each rise and fall 
 The force that shook the globe recall. 
 
 Lo ! as beneath that light, 
 Which, 'mid the depth of night, 
 Stream'd from the lamp in Psyche's lifted arm, 
 
60 ROME. 
 
 When softly bending low 
 
 O'er Love's illumin'd brow, 
 
 The dazzled bride imbib'd his heav'nly charm, 
 
 So bursts the Appollo radiant on the sight. 
 
 Lift up the torch — A God I trace. 
 God of sublimity and grace, 
 Ne'er yet to man the pow'er was giv'n 
 To breathe in rocks the soul of heav'n. 
 By Hermes shap'd, his hand divine 
 That statue plac'd on Delos' shrine. 
 He mark'd thy mien, when onward roll'd 
 The Pythian dragon's scaly fold: 
 He mark'd thee, as thy arrow flew, 
 With brow uprais'd its death pursue, 
 When from thy front the parted hair 
 Stream'd floating on the void of air : 
 Then caught thy smile in proud disdain 
 Of conquest on an earthly plain : 
 And as thy step sublimely trod, 
 And, rob'd in glory, rose the God, 
 Embody' d to our mortal eye 
 The form of Immortality. 
 
 Son of Latona! Time has rudely hurl'd 
 From its rock-base beneath the double mount 
 
ROME. Gl 
 
 That feeds Castalia's fount, 
 
 Thy dome, that o'er the centre of the world 
 
 Arose, the common refuge of mankind. 
 
 Thy image, in its sanctuary enshrin'd, 
 
 No more yields response to the nations : earth 
 
 No longer hymns thy birth, 
 
 Nor the fam'd isle that wandered with the wave. 
 
 The gifts that empires gave, 
 
 The golden statues that, by monarchs plac'd, 
 
 Thy sacred precincts grac'd, 
 
 Are turn'd to dust: — the eagle on career, 
 
 From step Parnassus' ice-encrusted height, 
 
 Rests on thy wreck his flight : 
 
 The wild swan from the Delian flood, 
 
 Smooth balancing in air his silver wings, 
 
 Their shadow o'er it flings, 
 
 Nor dreads thy votary's shaft that sought his blood:* 
 
 The Pythoness and Oracle are gone : 
 
 The godhead in thy image dwells alone. 
 
 Son of Latona ! 
 Tho' incense here before thee ne'er has glow'd, 
 Nor struggling victim bled, 
 Fragrance more sweet than Araby ere fed 
 
 * Vide the Ion of Euripides. 
 
62 ROME. 
 
 Has round thy altar flow'd, 
 
 Breath'd from the lip of Love. A girl more fair 
 Than Cynthia, silvering night's summer air, 
 Glanc'd on thy sculptur'd form — she thrill'd — she 
 
 knelt — 
 Her breast love's lightning felt, 
 Barb'd by the agony of deep despair, 
 Youth's waning light, and Beauty's fading bloom 
 Hope never can relume, 
 She loves : but chaster not the cloister'd nun 
 That will not view the sun : 
 But not more fond, not faithful more thy flow'r, 
 That tells its passion to the passing hour. 
 Thus the pale votaress to earth's pleaded suit, 
 Inanimate and mute, 
 Gaz'd on the God with unaverted eye, 
 That bright and brighter kindling with desire, 
 Sought not the aid of expiating fire 
 To consummate its gift — a virgin heart. 
 She saw thee in thy brightness, God of day! 
 Beam on her, as her sense dissolved away, 
 Now — now — from life to part — 
 The victim melting on thy altar lay ; 
 Her love's first glow, her love's last gleaming, thine : 
 Her death — an exhalation in thy shrine. 
 
ROME. 63 
 
 Here cease awhile, my lyre ! — but not with thee 
 The visions cease, that, like the zephyr's wing 
 Which wakes the iEolian string 
 Gave to thy chord the voice of melody ! 
 Still float around my haunts ! and o'er and o'er 
 In day-dreams, or when spirits of the night 
 Hang their illusions on the sealed sight, 
 To Fancy's charmed eye the scenes restore : 
 Scenes, that my pilgrim step shall ne'er revisit more. 
 
 Insensibly, the noiseless foot of Time 
 Has stol'n upon my path ; and o'er my brow, 
 Age with soft hand has shed its silver snow. 
 Ere long, my staff will fail, my pilgrimage 
 Will cease for ever. — Yet, life's waning day 
 Will pass in peace away, 
 
 So heav'n consent, that in these tranquil bow'rs* 
 That charm'd my boyhood hours, 
 And to my silent woe in after years 
 Their soothing shelter lent, 
 
 Should cease my earth career ! — So heav'n consent 
 That, ere the unseen hand my eyelid close, 
 My farewell blessing, here, on those I love, repose ! — 
 
 Yet — yet once more! — It will not be controll'd. 
 
 * Lodge — Epping Forest. 
 
64 ROME. 
 
 Have I not seen the signal — trace the woe, 
 That in the vision, in the dream of old 
 Prefigur'd Rome's o'erthrow? — 
 
 Rome! thou art doom'd to perish, and thy days, 
 Like mortal man's, are numbered : number'd all, 
 Ere each fleet hour decays. 
 Tho' Pride yet haunt thy palaces, tho' Art 
 Thy sculptur'd marbles animate : 
 Tho' thousands, and ten thousands throng thy gate ; 
 Tho' kings and kingdoms with thy idle mart 
 Yet traffic, and thy throned Priest adore : 
 Thy second reign shall pass — pass like thy reign of 
 yore.— 
 
 Hast thou forgot, when, girt with thunder, came 
 The Hun, the Exterminator, call'd of God, 
 And thron'd in pow'r, the sword and flame between, 
 On thy bow'd neck, thine, Monarch-People ! trod, 
 And shouted unto earth that Rome " had been?" 
 Hast thou forgot how the unsparing axe 
 Flash'd, and the hewers, as thy glory lay 
 On earth, the shatter'd branches lop'd away, 
 Bough after bough? So fell thy strength of yore : 
 Thus thou again shalt fall : — thus fall — and rise no 
 
 
ROME. 65 
 
 I see the sign foretold. — Ye, too, come forth; 
 Ye, who, 'mid Rome, an interdicted horde, 
 Steal out, when Morn unbars your guarded gate, 
 Beneath the uplifted sword : 
 And whom, late Eve with watchful eye beholds 
 Returning to a house, but not a home, 
 Like beasts in crowded folds. 
 Lone dwellers in the melancholy place, 
 Where ye are doomed your wretchedness to hide, 
 Come from the haunts where Tyber's wondering tide 
 Views the throng'd Ghetto multiply the race 
 That under wrath abide : 
 While they who, on the sun-lit heights above, 
 By crystal fountains wont with health to rest, 
 And tune the lute to love, 
 Chas'd by the tainted wing that bears the pest, 
 Fly the paternal roof, and golden grove, 
 And halls where painting speaks, and breathing 
 marbles move. 
 
 Hebrew ! come forth ! 
 Miraculous and mystic link between 
 The Gospel and the Law! 
 Thou ! that confirm'st the signs thy fathers saw 
 Of old, the marvels wrought on iEgypt's coast, 
 When, to their foot, on passage, upward stood 
 
 F 
 
60 ROME. 
 
 The wall of waters, and o'er Pharaoh's host 
 
 Clos'd the returning flood : 
 
 Thou, wanderer without home, wherever driv'n, 
 
 That bear'st upon thy forehead, broadly seen, 
 
 The seal and sentence of avenging heav'n : 
 
 The expiation of that day of dread 
 
 And darkness, when the veil was rent in twain, 
 
 Earth stagger'd, and the graves let loose their dead, 
 
 When by th' eternal Godhead glorify'd, 
 
 In bitterness of grief, and shame, and pain, 
 
 Christ bow'd the head, and dy'd. 
 
 Thou, living wonder of Jehovah's word ! 
 Thou, that without or priest, or sacrifice, 
 Ephod, or temple, lone 'mid human kind, 
 Cleavest to thy statutes with unswerving mind, 
 As tho', enthron'd upon his mercy-seat, 
 The spreading of the cherubims between, 
 Jehovah yet were seen ! 
 
 Hebrew ! come forth ! dread not the light of day : 
 Dread not th' insulter's cry. 
 The arch that rose o'er thy captivity* 
 No more shall turn thee from thy destin'd way. 
 
 * The arch of Titus. 
 
ROME. 67 
 
 The marble moulders and the trophies fall, 
 That Salem's sculptured spoils and captive Ark 
 recall. 
 
 That arch was bas'd in strength : and they, who 
 
 rais'd 
 The pile, and on each stone a trophy grav'd; 
 And Rome, that on the sculptur'd triumph gaz'd; 
 Deem'd, that the fabric would have tow'r'd sublime 
 O'er generations yet unborn, and brav'd 
 The beating of the iron wings of Time. 
 They deem'd that there the stranger would have 
 
 trac'd 
 The last memorial of th' infuriate brood, 
 Who Rome, in her omnipotence, withstood, — 
 And perish'd. — Lo! her trophies, day by day, 
 Moulder, and pass away. 
 But they, the race despis'd, the race abhorr'd, 
 The scatter'd remnant of Rome's merciless sword, 
 From north to south, from east to west, o'er earth, 
 Beneath the shadow of Jehovah's word, 
 Tell out from realm to realm the wonders of their 
 
 birth. 
 
 It comes — th' appointed hour. 
 Hebrew ! beneath the arch of Titus, pause ! 
 
 f 2 
 
68 ROME. 
 
 And in the closing scene of Rome's last pow'r 
 Thy Prophet's roll unfold. 
 Then view on that eventful theatre, 
 Where, slow born ages swept like shadows by, 
 Time, loftier tow'ring as the woe draws nigh, 
 'Mid the gigantic wrecks that round him low'r, 
 From the symbolic image seen of old 
 Casts back the mantle of obscurity, 
 And beck'ning on the vengeance of the Lord, 
 Points out the sign foretold : 
 
 "Lo! round Rome's iron feet the dust and ashes 
 « roll'd."- 
 
 So take thou up the harp, that whilom hung 
 Mute on the willows, as the wave flow'd on 
 That drank thy tear at Babylon: 
 And from their graves the shadowy kings recall, 
 That mock'd the Golden City's fall : 
 And strain the loudest chords to exultation strung. 
 
 Lift up thy voice! — The Day-spring from on high 
 Warns that the hour draws nigh: 
 The far seas, and the multitude of isles, 
 All in their tongues have heard, 
 Each lisps the living word. 
 Hebrew! on thee Redemption's angel smiles. 
 
ROME. 69 
 
 The stone cut out without a hand 
 Now spreads its shade o'er earth, and shall to heav'n 
 expand. 
 
 Tell the dispers'd, kings with their fleets shall 
 
 come 
 To bear the wanderers home, 
 Their queens shall fold thy nurselings on their 
 
 breast: 
 A light o'er earth shall flow 
 From Sion's hallow'd brow, 
 And there the Lord thy God, enthron'd in glory, 
 
 rest! 
 
 Then, ask of Rome, — Where now the realms 
 whose sway 
 Bad earth their voice obey? 
 The gold — the silver — and the brazen? — gone — 
 The mountain falls on Babylon. 
 Where art thou, Rome! thy second empire o'er? 
 Gone! like the chaff from out the summer-threshing 
 floor.— 
 
( 70 ) 
 
 TIVOLI. 
 
 The solstice glares with noon-tide heat: 
 
 Hide me in thy dark caverns, Tivoli ! 
 
 Breathe on me, thou cool air ! that murmur'dst by ; 
 
 And ye, that burst from flints beneath my feet, 
 
 Flow, crystal springs ! around my summer seat : 
 
 And with you bring that fresh, that fragrant morn, 
 
 When first I viewed the day-spring's glancing beam 
 
 The mountain brows adorn, 
 
 And mingle with the wreathings of the foam, 
 
 That from the cataract's sunless stream 
 
 Flash'd up in rainbows round the Sibyl's dome. 
 
 Fam'd Tivoli ! whoe'er in summer hour 
 Has glanc'd on thy green bow'r, 
 Or view'd thy Sibyl's temple, rob'd with light, 
 Tow'r on the rocky height: 
 Or under covert of the o'er-arching cave, 
 In subterraneous night, 
 
T I VOL I. 71 
 
 Heard the hoarse gush and whirling of thy wave: 
 
 Or trac'd along thy flow'r-enameU'd mead 
 
 The maze, where Anio's crystal rivulet 
 
 Its current loves to lead, — 
 
 Ne'er will his dream thy solitude forget : 
 
 Still his charm'd foot will on thy glade be found, 
 
 And sweet in Fancy's ear thy water-fall resound! — 
 
 Haunt I not yet that rocky crest, 
 Whence many a silver cascatelle 
 In tuneful murmurs fell ? 
 
 That rocky crest, where oft Loraine was found 
 Amid thy sun-light glades, 
 And dark-embow'ring shades, 
 Lone communing with Nature. — On that mound, 
 Where the hoar walls, that rear'd Msecena's roof, 
 Tow'r on the cliff aloof, 
 
 Oft her rapt votary stood, encompass'd round 
 With woods, and flow of streams, and interchange 
 Of glade, and glen, and hill, and bolder range 
 Of mountains, where their distant boundaries spread 
 Unbroke, or tow'r'd apart some single head, 
 Albano, or Soracte. — On that brow 
 Oft, as a votary of the sun, on watch 
 To hallow its uprise, at break of day, 
 
72 TIVOLI. 
 
 He on the far horizon would survey, 
 
 O'er the gray aqueducts that stretch below, 
 
 The outline of a city underneath 
 
 Soft haze, that, ere the wind was heard to breathe, 
 
 Spread wide its lucid veil: — that city — Rome: 
 
 Rome waiting but the beam, to cast away 
 
 Its shroud, and, tow'ring into splendour, show 
 
 Earth its metropolis, and give her dome 
 
 To glory. — Far and wide as eye could roam, 
 
 A champain on the other side outspread 
 
 Th' extent, where earth in green fertility 
 
 Seem'd like a verdant sea : 
 
 Its boundary was a wilderness of wood 
 
 Dark'ning the sea-line: — and, beyond it, flow'd 
 
 A world that brightly glow'd, 
 
 Main ocean, on whose azure heav'n repos'd, 
 
 And the broad orb of light his course in glory clos'd. 
 
 'Twas there the votary of Nature went ; 
 And from the shapings of his fancy gave 
 To tow'r, or palace, or hoar monument, 
 The silver cascatelle, or sun-gilt wave, 
 Some height'ning touch, some new embellishment, 
 Such as th' enchanted spirit might adore, 
 And lovelier make the scene that loveliest seem'd 
 before. 
 
T I VOL I. 73 
 
 Rose from a wooded hill a dark-brow 'd rock, 
 Whence gushing waters play'd ? 
 There would his pencil place a shepherd swain, 
 A boy, beneath a grotto laid, 
 Who, all forgetful of his straggling flock, 
 Pip'd to a girl that danc'd in sun-shine on the glade. 
 
 Tow'r'd a bright palace in its pride ? 
 In sparkling ripples at its feet 
 His blue-rob'd sea was seen to beat, 
 Where, on the fulness of the tide, 
 Impatient for its guests, a burnish'd bark 
 The swelling sail display'd, 
 That on the mansion's marble side 
 Its form in shadow laid, 
 While the bright sea-god on its prow 
 Burnt in the pictur'd wave below. — 
 
 In ruins fell Diana's shrine? 
 There tir'd, at eve, with sleep o'erpow'r'd, 
 Endymion lay embow'r'd, 
 His dog upon the boar-spear slumbering nigh : 
 None earth-born dar'd pass by ; 
 But Cynthia came descendent from above, 
 Wooing a mortal's love; 
 
74 TIVOLI. 
 
 While the pale light that from her crescent shone, 
 Fell on his brow alone. 
 
 Thus stood the master of each element; 
 Whether he drew the azure from the sky 
 When not a spot stain'd its transparency ; 
 Or from Morn's roseate vest the sun-beam stole, 
 When from the eastern goal 
 A line of gold that on the ocean lay 
 Levell'd the tremulous radiance that illum'd 
 The gates that close the day : 
 Or stay'd the Sun's vast orb, half-wheel'd in night, 
 Painting the champain's purple light: 
 Whether the Seasons in their fleet career 
 View'd his bright tints out-rivalling the bloom 
 That freshens the young year, 
 Or mellowing the colours that illume 
 The woods, when Autumn with her richest dye 
 Deepens their changeful livery, 
 Till the last leaf falls withering. — Such, Lorraine ! 
 Thy mastery, melting down thy blended hues, 
 Making all Nature, in her wide domain, 
 A charm to sooth the spirit to repose, 
 Like melodies that hang on Vespers' hymned close. 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 T E R N I. 
 
 Where stood Salvator, when with all his storms 
 
 Around him Winter rav'd, 
 
 When being, none save man, the tempest brav'd ? 
 
 When on her mountain crest 
 
 The eagle sank to rest, 
 
 Nor dar'd spread out her pennons to the blast : 
 
 Nor, till the whirlwind passed, 
 
 The famish'd wolf around the sheep-cote prowl'd ? 
 
 Where stood Salvator, when the forest howl'd, 
 
 And the rock rooted pine in all its length 
 
 Crash' d, prostrating its strength ? 
 
 Where stood Salvator, when the summer cloud 
 At noon-day, to Ausonia direr far 
 Than winter, and its elemental war, 
 Gather'd the tempest, from whose ebon shroud, 
 That cross'd like night a sky of crimson flame, 
 Stream'd ceaselessly the fire bolts forked aim: 
 
76 TERN I. 
 
 While hurricanes, whose wings were frore with hail, 
 
 Cut sheer the vines, and o'er the harvest vale 
 
 Spread barrenness ? Where was Salvator found, 
 
 When all the air a bursting sea became, 
 
 Deluging earth? — On Terni's cliff he stood, 
 
 The tempest sweeping round. 
 
 I see him where the Spirit of the storm 
 
 His daring votary led : 
 
 Firm stands his foot on the rock's topmost head, 
 
 That reels above the rushing and the roar 
 
 Of deep Vellino. — In the glen below, 
 
 Again I view him on the reeling shore, 
 
 Where the prone river, after length of course, 
 
 Collecting all its force, 
 
 An avalanche cataract, whirl'd in thunder o'er 
 
 The promontory's height, 
 
 Bursts on the rock : while round the mountain brow, 
 
 Half, half the flood rebounding in its might, 
 
 Spreads wide a sea of foam evanishing in light. 
 
 
( 77 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 EMISSARIO OF ALBANO. 
 
 Yet once again, Albano! once again 
 Lead me, delighted, to thy still recess, 
 Rocks, and bold heights, and woodland wilderness, 
 And the rich verdure of thy velvet lawn, 
 Now margining the water with fresh flow'rs, 
 Now gradually withdrawn ; 
 To pastur'd meads with soft acclivities, 
 Along whose gentle rise 
 
 The untir'd step winds on thro' myrtle bow'rs ; 
 Or where the cypress spires, or o'er the glade 
 The chestnut broadly spreads its pomp of flow'ry 
 braid. 
 
 Yet — once again, 
 On the clear tablet of thy liquid plain, 
 As on a beauteous picture by the hand 
 Of Nature brightly touch 'd, the scenes expand, 
 
78 THE EMISSARIO 
 
 That with the roseate glow 
 Of day-spring, or when golden suns descend, 
 Their melting hues along thy water blend. 
 Bring down the castle from Gandolfo's brow, 
 To mingle with the wave of woods below, 
 And wreck of grottos wantonly o'erlaid 
 With ivy trail, and shrines with weeds o'ergrown, 
 Where wild flow'rs, on the green-sod altar* strown, 
 Pan's bounteous gifts repaid: 
 And caverns, where the Nymphs once held resort, 
 Or stealing forth from the embowering shade, 
 When ceased the shepherd's reed, made with the 
 moonbeam sport. 
 
 But — nor the castle on Gandolfo's brow, 
 Nor woods that wave below, 
 Nor caverns of the Nymphs, nor hues that blend 
 With day-spring, or when golden suns descend, 
 Nor Peace, that loves to rest 
 On thy still lake her halcyon breast, 
 Now lure, Albano, to thy favourite haunt 
 My willing foot revisitant. 
 
 Fling wide yon gates, and to my sight expose 
 The flood thy rocks enclose : 
 
OF ALB A NO. 79 
 
 Fling wide thy gates, and pour again the gleam 
 
 Of day-light, till it dies along the stream, 
 
 In gradual darkness lost. 
 
 Give me again to hear 
 
 The sound most musical to Summer's ear, 
 
 The gushing of the waters as they flow'd 
 
 Along their rocky road : 
 
 And bid again that image tow'r 
 
 Which met me, when with heat o'erddne 
 
 I lay, and brav'd the scorching sun : 
 
 Where at the cave's broad entrance stood, 
 
 In single majesty, alone, 
 
 With deep roots sepulchred in stone, 
 
 The ilex, guardian of the flood, 
 
 And with gigantic arms outspread 
 
 At day's bright noon cool midnight shed. 
 
 That image to my sight restore : 
 
 And let me hear that voice once more, 
 
 Which, echoing through the haunted cave, 
 
 Spake to the mountain and the wave— 
 
 " I bad thy rock divide : 
 " Thro' the dry flint I pour'd th' exuberant tide. 
 " So hast thou flow'd while ages linger'd by: 
 " Flow thus to dark futurity!" — 
 
80 THE EMISSARIO OF ALBANO. 
 
 That form, that voice was Rome: — Rome, in the 
 hour, 
 Ere from her elm the eagle yet had hurl'd 
 The bolt that shook the world : 
 Rome, cradled infant of herculean pow'r. 
 
 Was it at bidding of the oracle 
 That Veii fell? 
 
 Rome ! bid Albano's flood the secret tell ; 
 Tell why the nations bow'd their head to thee. 
 'Twas not thy shield, thy javelin, and thy sword, 
 Thy legion, that now op'd its ranks, now clos'd, 
 As hostile swarms oppos'd : 
 The sceptre of thy sov'reignty 
 Was the insurmountable mind, 
 That bad thee, as ordain'd to sway the rest, 
 As one, on whose proud forehead Fate had prest 
 The seal and signature of majesty; 
 As one all resolute to dare its doom, 
 Unclasp the volume of futurity, 
 And, tracing in the page of Destiny 
 That Fame to strenuous toils had summon'd Rome, 
 Link life's fleet, day to ages yet to come, 
 And death to immortality. 
 
ON 
 
 AN ORANGE TREE 
 
 AT ROME. 
 
 Sweet is the vernal rose 
 That scents the morning gale : 
 And sweet at day-light close 
 The silver lily blows, 
 Filling with fragrant breath the dewy vale. 
 They flourish and decay : 
 They bloom, and, blooming, fail : 
 Leaf after leaf, fades, falls, and dies away. 
 Thy morrow, like thy day, 
 Beholds thee gifted with perpetual growth, 
 Thee, child and mother both : — 
 And every season sweet, 
 Spring, summer, autumn, not in slow advance, 
 a 
 
82 ORANGE TREE. 
 
 Nor singly, thee, with separate offerings, greet, 
 But — like the Graces, that in linked dance 
 Join hand in hand, and wreathe their mingled feet, 
 With all their treasures, all at once endow'r : 
 The golden fruit, green leaf, and silver flow'r, 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 VENICE. 
 
 How beautiful art thou ! 
 
 Thou that arisest like a dream 
 
 From the blue mirror of thy liquid plain, 
 
 And lift'st aloft the radiance of thy brow 
 
 O'er Adria's azure main ! 
 
 Ne'er yet by moonlight gleam, 
 
 When the lone bard delights his lay to weave, 
 
 Might lovelier vision float at summer eve : 
 
 Ne'er yet the tale of Araby, 
 
 That charms the caravan from nightly slumbers, 
 
 Feign'd at the melody of magic numbers, 
 
 A fairer city rising suddenly, 
 
 Than thine, which, slowly rear'd by human hand, 
 
 Saw in the unstable wave its firm foundation stand. 
 
 A golden light along the Lido plays. 
 I see thy brilliant isles, each radiant gem 
 That sparkles on thy liquid diadem : 
 The ocean at their base his strength allays, 
 g2 
 
84 VENICE. 
 
 And not a billow breaks upon thy shore, 
 Nor swells upon thy breeze the Deep's tempestuous 
 roar. 
 
 Ere yet I stole upon thy silent sea, 
 And saw the bold Rialto proudly throw 
 His arch athwart thy water heaving slow, 
 So vividly the painter's magic pow'r 
 Thy image had pourtray'd, 
 I knew each fane palladian, gothic tow'r, 
 All that St. Mark display 'd, 
 Dome, palace, cupolas, each bold arcade : 
 And sable gondolas, that to and fro, 
 Like shadows, come and go. 
 I knew that bridge of sighs ; that ducal roof 
 Where the Doge wove the viewless woof 
 That o'er the brow of Pleasure closed, 
 Nor day, nor night repos'd. 
 All, all the enchantment of thy scenery 
 At once familiar seem'd, and charm'd my sight, 
 Like a remember'd dream, re-picturing past delight. 
 
 Ah ! Venice ! ere a distant age, 
 That magic picture shall alone retain 
 The goddess sprung from Adria's main. 
 There, faithful to thy storied page, 
 
VENICE. 85 
 
 When thou, and all thy race are past, 
 The trophies of thy pow'r shall last. 
 There shall the brazen coursers stand, 
 Yet breathing of Lysippus' hand. 
 There shall the triple pillars soar, 
 Each that a kingdom's standard bore, 
 When Cyprus, Negropont, and Crete, 
 Kiss'd the merchant-monarch's feet : 
 And there the column tow'r apart, 
 That scornful of the merchant's mart, 
 With the wing'd lion crowns its brow, 
 Stern-gazing on the sea below : 
 And there the Bucentaur unfold 
 His banners o'er a flood of gold, 
 And Fancy's myriad shapes recall 
 The gay Venetian carnival. 
 
 What art thou, but a picture of the past, 
 Thy day of glory o'er, 
 A picture, half-evanish'd, fading fast ? 
 Yet, would I fain, ere thou art seen no more, 
 Once, once again upon thy marble strand, 
 Recall, 'mid trophies of the years of yore, 
 The wonders of thy trident-scepter'd hand : 
 Or in delightful dream of idleness, 
 When Eve, slow-stealing out in mantle grey, 
 
8G VENICE. 
 
 On her pale forehead binds one beauteous star, 
 
 Disparting Night and Day, 
 
 Float on the level of thy sea of glass : 
 
 While scarce a ripple from the inaudible oar 
 
 Shivers the mirror as the shadows pass, 
 
 And nought is heard save gondolas soft-gliding, 
 
 And on that silent sea the vesper chimes subsiding. 
 
 Mute now the voice 
 That when the fisher dragg'd his net along, 
 Lighten'd his labour with familiar song. 
 The lute forgets its fingering :— none rejoice: 
 No answering gondolier at close of day 
 Takes up Medoro's tale, or sweet Erminia's lay. 
 
 But could Medoro's lay, or that soft breeze, 
 Which, waking when the sun deserts the sky, 
 Ripples the dead lagunes, that round thee lie, 
 Fanning them into freshness : say, could these 
 Silence thy deep lament 1 — Why gaze around, 
 Ceaselessly weeping on thy shipless sea ? 
 Thy worshippers, thy lovers, who, ere-while, 
 Braided thy brow with gems — none, none are found : 
 None from the deep beholding thy bright isle 
 Raise the glad shout to Venice. — Woe to thee, 
 The tread of whose lone foot sounds heavily, 
 
VENICE. 87 
 
 Where erst St. Mark, as on earth's central place, 
 
 Gather'd the human race, 
 
 Making all nations one, and the wide main 
 
 The highway of the world, — Where now the throng, 
 
 The princely traffickers that round thee press'd, 
 
 Nor let thy echoes rest ? 
 
 The many-languag'd, where? the Babel sound 
 
 Of barter, whose discordant voices gave 
 
 A tongue to every wave ? 
 
 Where now the monarch-merchant, war his trade, 
 Who 'mid his carracks, and his argosies, 
 Sent fleets, that, charg'd with victory, swept the seas, 
 And dashing from their prow the billowy storm, 
 And Death's opposing form, 
 'Mid battle-trophies to thy shouting shore 
 The Athenean lion bore. 
 
 Thy wise men — the Elect — the Senate — where ? 
 Where he, their chief, the watcher, and the watch'd, 
 The ruler, and the rul'd, whose silver hair, 
 Silver'd by time and toils of state, bovv'd down 
 Beneath the ducal crown? 
 
 Yet — not the less, kings, and their councils, sate, 
 Waiting his word of fate, 
 While his eye mark'd the turning of the beam, 
 
88 VENICE. 
 
 Where balanc'd nations trembled in the scale. 
 Where — these ? — All, all alike an idle tale : 
 All, all, a tale that's told — the vision of a dream. 
 
 r Thou, never more, at rest from glorious war, 
 
 Beneath whose standard, streaming on the gale, 
 
 The Turkish Moon turn'd pale, 
 
 Yearly in triumph on the Bucentaur 
 
 Shall cast thy ring in the betrothed sea, 
 
 And wed, and dow'r thy Bride with sov'reignty. 
 
 They, never more, thy sons, the brave, the free, 
 
 Shall company the Bridegroom on his way, 
 
 Where the consenting Deep kept holiday, 
 
 And all the isles, one floating pageantry, 
 
 Their banner'd pomp and blazonry display'd, 
 
 And Ocean seem'd on fire beneath the crimson shade. 
 
 Nay — mock me not with gorgeous palaces : 
 Vaunt not to me thy Titian's living light : 
 Far other scenes must fix a Briton's sight. 
 Show me the hand that rais'd thee from the seas, 
 Link'd isle to isle, and driving back the tide, 
 Strengthen'd the ocean's bed to bear thy pride. 
 Pour on my hear the voice that proudly said, 
 " Thou Deep ! here roll thy wave ! be here thy 
 billows stay'd'" 
 
 
VENICE. 89 
 
 The annals of thy glorious years unfold : 
 Show me how Freedom walk'd with thee of old 
 Upon thy mountain billows ; how her pow'r 
 Gave to the sword its edge, thy helm its course, 
 Thy soul its boundless force, 
 Till all the world of waters was thine own : 
 And thou, like her of Tyre, on whose peel'd head 
 Their nets the fishers spread, 
 Spak'st unto Ocean from thy island throne, 
 " I reign — and none beside — I am — and I alone!" 
 
 But, when thy day was one continuous dream, 
 And all thy night a masque — a festival — ■ 
 A monlight music, and a midnight ball ; 
 Then Luxury round thee clasp'd Armida's zone, 
 And wreath'd thy temples with a flowery braid, 
 Where venomous serpent's play'd, 
 And mingled charms in thy Circean bowl, 
 That turn'd the man to brute, and steep'd in sloth 
 the soul. 
 
 Thus wert thou found, when in the evil hour 
 A giant, helmeted in war-array, 
 Pluck'd from the Syren's brow the mask away. 
 Venice ! the sword that flam'd on Stamboul's tow'r, 
 Venice ! the shield that with its single pow'r 
 
90 VENICE. 
 
 Had stay'd the world in arms, were cast aside. 
 
 Thou call'dst thy sons — in vain — 
 
 None from a thousand islands, none replied : 
 
 None on another — on himself — relied : 
 
 No drop that swelled thy veins ere fell on Adria's 
 
 Ere yet for ever silenc'd, Venice! raise, 
 To Albion raise thy voice ! 
 
 Ask her — whose native, erst, when wintry blasts 
 Rav'd o'er the void of ocean, dark and deep, 
 Like a lone eagle on the rocky steep, 
 That from his spread of wing the snow-storm casts, 
 Stood on the cliff, and, shivering from his lair, 
 The winged sea-foam shook from his dishevell'd 
 
 hair: 
 Ask her — whose savage wander'd forth to prowl 
 For food, or sprang from ambush in his cave, 
 'Mid sea-herds, gamboling on the summer wave; 
 Or when the bleak moon heard the she-wolf howl, 
 From the deserted den bore off her brood, 
 And gorg'd the quivering flesh, and quafF'd the 
 
 living blood : 
 Ask her, whence rose her pow'r, 
 Her grandeur, her dominion, her renown, 
 The might and exaltation of her crown, 
 
VENICE. 91 
 
 Fleets, whose rich freights her princely merchant's 
 
 dow'r, 
 And war-charg'd navies, that from sea to sea 
 Spread out her empire ? — Freedom gave her force 
 To cope with harsh necessity, and brave 
 The monsters of the wild, the wood, the wave : 
 Freedom : whose youthful hardihood, nor Dane, 
 Nor Saxon, nor mail'd Norman in his pride 
 Could captive hold: — Freedom, who cast aside 
 Their bonds, and taught the monarch how to reign : 
 Then stood between the nation and the throne, 
 The arch of empire struck, and pois'd its central 
 
 stone. 
 Her glory, hence, has spread from land to land, 
 And o'er the Deep, her native element, 
 Mail'd harbinger, before her Terror went; 
 And Commerce and twin Conquest, hand in hand, 
 Where'er a billow roll'd, her flag unfurl' d, 
 And pil'd on her bleak rocks the tribute of the world. 
 
 Briton! are these thy birth-right? — Thine that 
 word ? — 
 False as the wave, and fickle as the blast, 
 Commerce from shore to shore has veer'd — has past : 
 The sword of conquest has betray'd its lord. 
 
92 VENICE. 
 
 Alone, on Virtue's adamantine base, 
 Shall Freedom's column stand — stand on its resting 
 place. 
 
 Seek we a Tyre, or Venice to presage 
 The irreversible fate? 
 Ask we a prophet to unclose the gate 
 Of dark futurity? — The doom's foreshown : 
 The history by Time's iron pen engrav'd 
 On Truth's eternal page. 
 Britain ! peruse that record — 'tis thine own. 
 There view thy lion-progeny enslav'd, 
 And the bold realm that earth's leagued banners 
 
 brav'd, 
 On Freedom's wreck o'erthrown, 
 If Iiuxury round thee clasp Armida's serpent zone. 
 
 Honour'd art thou, my country ! — fear'd art thou— ~ 
 Envy'd of nations! — -Thine the sword and shield 
 That rescu'd earth. — This struck the Titan low: 
 That spread its aegis o'er the rally'd field, 
 When far and wide the shatter'd empires reel'd, 
 And sank beneath the blow — 
 Gaul, and the blood-stain'd harvest of her sword, 
 Lay at thy foot — thou wouldst not touch the spoil : 
 
VENICE. 93 
 
 And when thy pow'r had peace to earth restor'd, 
 Thou view'dst thy son, returning to his rest, 
 Bring back in triumph to his native soil 
 Nought — save the laurel that repaid his toil, 
 The scar — that grac'd his breast. 
 
 Glory and greatness be upon thy brow! 
 Britain! at rest from victory, consummate 
 In peace thy great career! — Convoke again 
 The Senate, where presiding Justice sate, 
 And Mercy, as she pleaded, heard the chain 
 From Afric fall — thy word the fetter broke : 
 Crush its last link. — Lo! Avarice yet upholds, 
 Holds in defiance up the murderous yoke: 
 The lingering nations yet the curse retain : 
 Go in thy strength, and free from earth the stain 
 Of brother's blood. — Loose Erin's galling band, 
 The fetter on the soul — 
 Her blessing and her curse are in thy hand : 
 Leave the free spirit free, and faith to God's control. 
 
 The Thames the tribute of thy wealth demands. 
 Rolls that fam'd flood indignant on his way, 
 To mingle with the ocean's yellow sands, 
 Unhonour'd of the merchant-kings? — Extend 
 On granite arches, rang'd in proud array, 
 
94 VENICE. 
 
 Where domes and terrac'd palaces ascend, 
 'Mid triumph arcs his marble-paved quay: 
 There, moor thy navies, fraught with either Ind : 
 There, free as air, fling wide thy golden gate 
 Of commerce to mankind : 
 There launch thy fleet ; and weary every gale, 
 To wing from clime to clime thy welcome sail, 
 Wafting to each the gifts of all — so bind 
 The world in love. — The western realms await 
 Thy coming; to their rising strength impart 
 Stability of freedom — largely shed 
 O'er desarts from the world divided far, 
 Where the poor savage, struggling into life, 
 With Nature, and her elements, at war 
 Wages unequal strife, 
 
 The seeds of knowledge, and implanted art : 
 And o'er the isles in darkness, spread the light, 
 The day-spring of salvation. — Thus, tow'r up, 
 Tow'r 'stablish'd in thy might: 
 And while thy cliffs ascend, and billows flow, 
 Glory shall hail thy name, and Greatness gird thy 
 brow. 
 
 And art thou, Venice ! but a warning sound ? 
 Degenerate! on whose brow a father's fame 
 Deepens the brand of shame — 
 
VENICE. 95 
 
 Ere dark oblivion o'er thee spread her pall, 
 Call from his long repose — on thy first Founder 
 call!— 
 
 Ask why his foot forsook yon flow'ry strand, 
 Abandoning the fruitful heritage 
 Where his forefathers pass'd in peace their age. 
 His foot disdain'd to rest, 
 On earth no longer blest, 
 When the invader held aloft the chain 
 That fell upon the land : 
 
 W T hile Freedom, pointing to th' unfetter'd main, 
 'Mid the dank marish, on the rushy bed 
 Where scream'd the bittern, and the serpent bred, 
 His banner on th' unpeopled isle display 'd, 
 And bad a Venice rise beneath its guardian shade. 
 
 Go in his glorious poverty again : 
 Quit the gold palace, and the marble dome, 
 The temple and the sanctuary, and the shrine : 
 Forsake thy father's home, 
 The hearth no longer thine. 
 And, if a wreck remain 
 
 Of the proud Bucentaur that 'spous'd the Deep, 
 With hallowing reverence its last relic keep, 
 
96 VENICE. 
 
 And, under guard of its palladium, go 
 
 Where'er the free waves flow, 
 
 And traversing the illimitable sea, 
 
 Wreathe with its floating weed the brow of Liberty ! — 
 
 Better to fall in arms beneath the foe, 
 Than witness, day by day, 
 Thy palaces abandon' d by their lords, 
 And marble domes decay : 
 And, mouldering into dust in silent halls, 
 Where spiders web the walls, 
 The banners of their glory fade away. 
 
 Better to fall in arms beneath the foe, 
 And leave a lasting name, 
 Than, reckless of the heritage of fame, 
 Sink lowly down in bitterness of shame, 
 And waste without a blow. — 
 
 Thus wert thou seen — where'er I gaz'd around, 
 Groan'd servitude, corruption, and decay : 
 Thy temples totter'd on their piles unsound, 
 And not an arm was stretch'd the plague to stay, 
 When from the liquid grave around thee spread, 
 The tainted mist steam'd up — the breathing of the 
 dead. 
 
VENICE. 97 
 
 Ere long, tli' enchanting vision, that arose 
 Like a fair dream, shall, like a dream, depart, — 
 Tow'r, temple, palace, domes of eastern art, 
 Beneath the flood, repose. 
 
 There, shall the sea-mew, and hoarse birds that make 
 The deep their haunt, shriek where thy revels rung ; 
 There round the pillar, where thy love-lyre hung, 
 Coil the huge volumes of the ocean-snake : 
 And while, beneath, thick swarms the slimy brood, 
 Above, a stagnant sea shall spread its solitude. 
 
( 98 ) 
 
 FLORENCE. 
 
 Exult thou in thy gay magnificence ! 
 Exult thou in thy glory ! nor disdain, 
 Tho' rude to Tuscan ear the melody, 
 Reject not thou the strain, 
 That, mindful of thy beauty, dwells on thee, 
 Thou stately City fair ! 
 Thy palaces — thy dome that soars in air, 
 Thy vale enamell'd with perpetual flow'rs, 
 And Arno's silvery stream fresh'ning the Mi 
 bow'rs. 
 
 Yet — 'mid thy splendid fabrics I behold, 
 In massiveness of gloomy grandeur vast, 
 Gray with the years of old, 
 Thy fortress'd mansions in the antique mould 
 Of stern defiance cast. 
 
 Mark they not yet the barbarous age unblest, 
 When the keen warden, challenging the hour 
 
 
FLORENCE. 99 
 
 While midnight, knew not rest, 
 
 Pac'd, a mail'd warrior, on th' embattl'd crest ? 
 
 They breathe of times, when underneath the throne, 
 
 In cells of darkness, lay, 
 
 'Mid ice-drops bursting from the sunless stone, 
 
 The unransom'd captive, till the fleshless bone 
 
 Shrunk from its chain away. 
 
 They breathe of times 
 
 When hearths were haunted with domestic crimes : 
 
 Of times, when minstrels in the banner'd hall 
 
 Swept the loud harp at festival, 
 
 And Beauty's lip the bridal goblet prest, 
 
 Death smote th' affianc'd guest. 
 
 They breathe of times, 
 
 When, at the altar of the living God, 
 
 The pontiff, while he raised the Host to heav'n, 
 
 And every knee was bent, and forehead bow'd, 
 
 Saw with consenting eye the death-blow giv'n, 
 
 And while the dagger quiver'd, warm w T ith gore, 
 
 Cast his absolving pall the brib'd assassin o'er. 
 
 Resplendent City ! thou art girt around 
 With walls that bear the trace, where once uprose 
 Bulwarks and bastions, at whose foot thy foes 
 Pass'd from the moated mound, 
 And castles, where the war-worn battlement 
 h 2 
 
100 FLORENCE. 
 
 Tells, in its late decline, 
 
 Of sieges, when the Guelf and Ghibelline 
 
 To Arno's banks their rival armies sent, 
 
 And hid her beauteous vale beneath th' invader's tent. 
 
 The shout of battle, and the cannon's roar 
 Has pass'd from Arno's shore : 
 The iron ring that grasp'd the Gonfalon, 
 When brother against brother arm'd his hand 
 Beneath the warden's signal brand, 
 Rests, idly rests, on the embossed stone. — 
 Yet, Tuscan ! to remotest time 
 Tell the proud story of thy prime, 
 That war thy cradle rock'd 'mid stern alarms : 
 That, not immur'd in inassailable tow'rs, 
 Thy sires consum'd voluptuous hours 
 When Freedom call'd to arms. 
 Onward they went the war to wage, 
 To pitch before th' invader's eye 
 The Gonfalon, their battle-gage, 
 To wreathe their brow with victory, 
 Or consecrate in Glory's grave, 
 Death that awaits the brave. — 
 
 Tell, to enslav'd Italia tell, 
 When bow'd her strength beneath th' invader's yoke, 
 
FLORENCE. 101 
 
 Thy spirit tow Yd unbroke : 
 
 That last on Arno's sacred ground 
 
 The trace of Freedom's step was found : 
 
 That Arno's vale yet caught her last farewell, 
 
 When from the Tuscan arm th' unaided segis fell. 
 
 Stranger ! ascend yon brow ! 
 Not when young Morn withdraws her silvery veil 
 An Eden to behold, 
 
 Fair-freshen'd by the stream's meand'ring flow : 
 Nor, when the broad sun slowly roll'd, 
 Wheels thro' heav'n's flaming vault his orb of gold, 
 On the green height to catch the temperate gale ; 
 Stand thou, where Cosmo stood : 
 So found thy fame. So form the great design 
 Thy nation to exalt ; her glory, thine. 
 Call thou on him, who, in prophetic mood 
 Exultant, from the crest of iVppennine 
 Saw Art's fair light first dawn o'er Arno's vale, 
 Ere Brunellesco pois'd his dome divine, 
 Ere Giotto saw his tow'r sublimely rise, 
 And bold Ghiberti graved the gates of paradise. 
 
 Not less, proud Florence ! to thy latest hour 
 Dwell on Lorenzo's day : 
 The merchant — the magnificent— the Lord 
 
102 FLORENCE. 
 
 Of Arno, who, in plenitude of pow'r 
 
 By free-born sons ador'd, 
 
 On Commerce beam'd bright Fame's undying ray. 
 
 Hail him, the Bard, whose polish'd strain 
 
 Sooth'd to melodious sounds the bacchic roar, 
 
 And led the Muses from Illyssus' plain, 
 
 To plant their laurels by his native stream, 
 
 'Mid groves that breath'd of Academe : 
 
 Where Tuscan bow'rs Minerva's olive bore, 
 
 And Homer's harp at festive banquets rung, 
 
 And Plato's Attic grace tun'd chaste Politian's tongue. 
 
 A Muse the vessel steer'd, and spread the sail, 
 What time his fleet, Art's last remains to save, 
 Woo'd the consenting gale, 
 And to and fro, furrowing th' iEgean wave, 
 To Athens pass'd, and link'd to Arno's shore 
 Pireus : and brought back the freight sublime, 
 The Phidian statue, and the sculptur'd gem : 
 Relics that, hallow'd by the touch of Time, 
 Dim'd in Lorenzo's sight Golconda's diadem. 
 
 Behold yon dancing Fawn : — 
 So his gay foot, timing th' Evoe' song, 
 Led the wild Nymphs along : 
 So lightly bounded on th' Arcadian lawn, 
 
FLORENCE. lus 
 
 When first the Bromian God to crown their mirth, 
 Press'd from the purple grape the drop that gladdens 
 earth. 
 
 Lo ! Niobe — on her uplifted brow- 
 View agony imprest, 
 
 As her last child — now — now about to die, 
 Clings to the altar of a mother's breast. 
 Hark ! — in the twang of the celestial bow 
 That mother hears the death-fraught arrow fly : 
 And, bending o'er her child to shield the blow, 
 Feels in that marble form, all — all a mother's woe. 
 
 Go where, descendent from above, 
 In charms beyond earth's fairest image bright, 
 The golden goddess of celestial love 
 Beams from the soul a light 
 That gives the sculptur'd form a grace divine. 
 There, bend before her shrine, 
 Adoring Art's sublimest influence. 
 Not this the Goddess, that on Ida's plain 
 Came to the Phrygian swain, 
 And, arm'd with Beauty's proud omnipotence, 
 Th' eclipsing veil withdrew, 
 x\nd flash'd before his view 
 
04 FLORENCE. 
 
 Charms that o'erwhelm'd the mortal's reeling sense : 
 Far lovelier, here, her form from gaze profane 
 Shrinks back, and as the marble seems to glow, 
 Guards with o'ershadowing arm her breast of virgin 
 snow. 
 
 Fair Florence ! at thy day's decline, 
 When came the shade from Appennine, 
 And suddenly on blade and bow'r 
 The fire-flies shed the sparkling show'r, 
 As if all heav'n to earth had sent 
 Each star that gems the firmament : 
 'Twas sweet, at that enchanting hour 
 To bathe in fragrance of th' Italian clime 
 By Arno's stream, her haunts among 
 Immortalis'd in song : 
 And feed on honey of the Tuscan rhyme 
 Mellifluous, in the myrtle's green alcove, 
 Whose echoes oft had rung 
 With notes more liquid than the nightingale, 
 That charm'd the list'ning vale, 
 What time the Bard of Laura and of Love, 
 To Eve's lone bird his amorous descant sung, 
 And borne in dream from Arno's gentle flow, 
 Told to hoarse Sorga's flood, and far Vaucluse, his 
 woe. 
 
FLORENCE. 105 
 
 Delightful on the brow of Fesoli 
 In idle hour to lie, 
 
 Where wont of old th' enchanter dwell : 
 He whose hundred-fabled spell, 
 When Florence 'mid her tainted walls, 
 Where day supply'd night's unblest funerals, 
 Saw horror, frenzy, and despair 
 Mingled with uncontroll'd voluptuousness, 
 Drew forth by its melodious pow'r, 
 To groves where fragrance fill'd the air, , 
 
 And Health had built his chosen bow'r, 
 Etruria's earthly Pleiades, 
 The flower of Florence, fairest of the fair, 
 And gay and gallant youths the dream to share, 
 The dream so bright — so brief — of youthful happi- 
 
 I trac'd them gliding in their gay career : 
 Now amid arbors, whose unfolding bloom 
 Breath'd on the gale perfume, 
 Where the smooth lawn was verdure all the year : 
 And o'er its freshness, cool as unsunn'd snow, 
 Living rivulets wreath'd their flow : 
 Now, under spread of trees, on beds of flow'rs 
 Round the smooth marble of a fountain clear, 
 They bent the tale to hear, 
 
100 FLORENCE. 
 
 That link'd thro' ten brief days the summer hours, 
 
 Fabling of amorous bliss, or sweet distress : 
 
 While each in turn, sole regent of the day, 
 
 With laurel garland crown'd, 
 
 By witching words the ravished audience bound. 
 
 So sank the sun away. 
 
 Then on that pleasant place, when Eve had laid 
 
 The soothing of her shade, 
 
 When the sweet tale was mute, 
 
 And nought of harsher breathing heard 
 
 Than the low night-air, and the love-lorn bird, 
 
 Carol, and dance, and amorous song, 
 
 Wooing the touches of the tender lute, ^ 
 
 Wing'd the fleet hours along. — 
 
 And now — all pass'd away — too swiftly gone — 
 
 And like a vision fled the gay Decameron. 
 
 Cradle of Science, Art, and Poesy! 
 Thy boast — and high the praise — thou honor'st, dead, 
 Whom, living, thou did'st crown 
 With more than kingly diadem — renown — 
 That, more than sculpture, grac'd their monument : 
 Tears that a nation shed, 
 The tear of veneration and lament. 
 
 " The Father of his Country" sleeps at rest, 
 By that proud title blest. 
 
FLORENCE. 107 
 
 Thou guard'st Lorenzo's dust : 
 Thou honor'st Santa-Croce's hallow'd dead. 
 Thou bad'st Italia crown Alfieri's bust, 
 And Science, by thy filial worship led, 
 Hail Galileo's bed : 
 
 And Painting, Poesy, and Sculpture wave 
 The wreaths that Genius blends o'er Bonarotti's 
 grave. 
 
 On these I lonely mus'd, 
 And, calling up their spirits from the tomb, 
 Commun'd in awful gloom, 
 Where no vain dreams of earth the soul abus'd. 
 Peace there abide ! with other thoughts possest, 
 Than peace that hails the blest, 
 I pass'd within the portals of a dome, 
 Blazing with all that pomp, and pride, and pow'r 
 Round living majesty array, 
 Regardless that the worm there inly lay, 
 Mocking our mortal hour. 
 Its semblance was a palace, wherein Death, 
 Under a canopy of royal state 
 At solemn banquet sate, 
 
 And rank'd at his approach each shadowy guest : 
 Disquieting the world from east to west, 
 From north to south, from far Golconda's mines, 
 To where the sun o'er gold Peru declines, 
 
108 FLORENCE. 
 
 To render up each hidden gem 
 
 A spectre to endiadem, 
 
 And crown corruption. — Ye ! whose relics lie 
 
 In the gem'd monument and jasper urn; 
 
 Ye, heirs of guilt and misery ! 
 
 Thou, hapless Sire, thou that did'st backward turn, 
 
 And strike the blow, when on thy poniard glow'd 
 
 The blood that from thy murder'd offspring flow'd, 
 
 Himself— a murderer ! — and thou ! yok'd with crime, 
 
 Slave of her charms, the fatal beauty fair, 
 
 Bianca, with the golden hair, 
 
 The fiend, who at the banquet board 
 
 With deadly drops the chalice stor'd, 
 
 Then fetter'd in her own infernal snare, 
 
 Fell on the brow of her expiring lord : 
 
 Fell 'mid the festive pomp — each, each a corse 
 
 abhorr'd : 
 Ah ! heirs of guilt! far better had it been 
 That ye had ne'er been born ! 
 Or when in innocence ye sank to rest 
 On the maternal breast, 
 
 That death had o'er you clos'd the earthly scene 
 In childhood's blissful morn. 
 Far better had it been 
 
 That ye had lain, where peasants lie, unseen 
 In earth's dark bed : a turf, your nameless tomb : 
 Your grave, Oblivion's womb. 
 
 
FLORENCE. 109 
 
 I pass'd away in scorn; — 
 And fondly sought, where, in what hallow'd ground 
 Eternally renown'd, 
 
 Where, in what tow'ring pyramid enclos'd, 
 Or brazen monument by Florence plac'd ; 
 And Bonarotti grac'd, 
 The relics of the Tuscan Bard repos'd ; 
 Or where it but an unadorned stone 
 By Dante's memory known : 
 Or were it but a grassy-mantled sod 
 O'er which a laurel grew, 
 
 And morn and eve refresh'd with drops of heav'nly 
 dew. 
 
 In vain I sought around : 
 Tomb, nor funeral mound 
 
 On Florence rose, the hallow'd spot revealing : 
 No monumental rhyme 
 Beneath his native clime, 
 Grav'd on the votive stone a nation's feeling. 
 
 Athens of Italy! where Dante's urn? 
 Was thine the gate that on the Exile clos'd ? 
 The gate that never witness'd his return ? 
 Not on thy lap his brow in age repos'd : 
 Not, where his cradle rock'd, Death seal'd his eyes; 
 Beneath Ravenna's soil Hetruria's glory lies. 
 
110 FLORENCE. 
 
 Yet — when o'er stranger earth the Exile stray 'd, 
 His thoughts alone had rest 
 In the lov'd spot that first his foot had prest. 
 His spirit linger'd where the boy had play'd, 
 And join'd the counsels where the man bore part. 
 And could his lofty soul have stoop'd to shame, 
 There had the Eld in peace his breath resign'd. 
 But — to harsh exile with unbending mind 
 Went Dante, went the muse, went deathless fame, 
 And his pure soul, where'er the wanderer trod, 
 Dwelt communing with God. 
 
 What recks it that thy sons, in after age, 
 When centuries had seen his stranger tomb, 
 Revers'd the Exile's doom ? 
 That Florence tore the record from her page, 
 And woo'd the remnant of his ancient race 
 To greet their native place ? — 
 They may return, and in their birth-place die, 
 Shrouded in still obscurity. 
 But sooner shall the Appennine 
 On Arno's vale recline, 
 And Arno's crystal current cease to flow, 
 Ere that again in man a Dante's genius glow. 
 
 Guard then, as thy palladium, Florence ! guard, 
 Guard as the Muse's shrine 
 
FLORENCE. Ill 
 
 His sacred stone, sole relic of the Bard. 
 There, on his youthfnl dream, the form divine 
 Dawn'd, ere the beacon of relentless hate 
 Flam'd o'er th' unclosing gate ; 
 And there, in after-time, 
 An eagle soaring in the might of youth, 
 Yet not unknown of fame, 
 
 From distant Thames, and the bleak northern clime, 
 Britannia's Milton came: 
 Led by the Tuscan Muse, whose wide career 
 Now reach'd heav'n's highest sphere, 
 Now fathom'd the Tartarean depth below : 
 Or when to earth devote, 
 As Love and Terror smote, 
 
 Swell'd the deep chord that ic'd the blood with fear 
 At Ugolino's feast, or sad and slow 
 Drew from the heart the tear that wept Francesca's 
 woe. 
 
 But — not the Tuscan fount 
 Melodious, nor the gush of Hippocrene, 
 That roll'd its music from the double mount, 
 Castalia's rocks between, 
 Not these alone — tho' full their current flow'd 
 On Milton's thirsty lip — not these alone, 
 But waters welling from the hill of God, 
 To Siloa's prophets known, 
 
112 FLORENCE. 
 
 Were sought of him, who, while his spirit glow'd 
 
 With the deep burning of intense desire, 
 
 In the pure sanctuary of hallowing fame 
 
 To consecrate his name, 
 
 Beheld Urania from th' angelic choir, 
 
 Not uninvok'd, descend, 
 
 And to her votary bring a seraph's golden lyre. 
 
 
( US ) 
 
 THE 
 
 GROTTO OF EGERIA. 
 
 Can I forget that beauteous day, 
 When, shelter'd from the burning beam, 
 First in thy haunted grot I lay, 
 And loos' d my spirit to its dream, 
 Beneath the broken arch, o'erlay'd 
 With ivy, dark with many a braid 
 That clasp'd its tendrils to retain 
 The stone its roots had writh'd in twain ? 
 No Zephyr on the leaflet play'd, 
 No bent-grass bow'd its slender blade, 
 The coiled snake lay slumber-bound : 
 All mute, all motionless around, 
 Save, livelier, while others slept, 
 The lizard on the sun-beam leapt, 
 And louder, while the groves were still, 
 The unseen cigali, sharp and shrill, 
 
114 THE GROTTO 
 
 As if their chirp could charm alone 
 Tir'd noontide with its unison. 
 
 Stranger ! that roam'st in solitude ! 
 Thou too, 'mid tangling bushes rude, 
 Seek in the glen, yon heights between, 
 A rill more pure than Hippocrene, 
 That from a sacred fountain fed 
 The stream that filled its marble bed. 
 Its marble bed long since is gone, 
 And the stray water struggles on, 
 Brawling thro' weeds and stones its way. 
 There, when o'erpowYd at blaze of day, 
 Nature languishes in light, 
 Pass within the gloom of night, 
 Where the cool grot's dark arch o'ershades 
 Thy temples, and the waving braids 
 Of many a fragrant brier that weaves 
 Its blossom thro' the ivy leaves. 
 Thou, too, beneath that rocky roof, 
 Where the moss mats its thickest Woof, 
 Shalt hear the gather'd ice-drops fall 
 Regular, at interval, N 
 
 Drop after drop, one after one, 
 Making music on the stone, 
 While every drop, in slow decay, 
 
OF EGERIA. 115 
 
 Wears the recumbent Nymph away. 
 
 Thou too, if ere thy youthful ear 
 
 ThrilFd the Latian lay to hear, 
 
 Lull'd to slumber in that cave, 
 
 Shalt hail the Nymph that held the wave ; 
 
 A goddess, who there deign'd to meet 
 
 A mortal from Rome's regal seat, 
 
 And o'er the gushing of her fount, 
 
 Mysterious truths divine to earthly ear recount. 
 
( 116 ) 
 
 ON 
 
 THE RUINED PALACE OF 
 
 RIENZI. 
 
 Wreck'd Palace ! where, confus'dly joined, 
 Sad emblem of thy master's mind, 
 The Roman and the Goth hath lent 
 Forms of discordant ornament : 
 Tho' lowly in th' abandon' d spot, 
 By Rome, and her slave-sons forgot, 
 Thou moulder in unsightly gloom, 
 Half buried in Oblivion's tomb : 
 Yet, might lay like mine prevail, 
 Thy dust should live, and spread the tale, 
 And call from Pleasure's festive round 
 A Briton's foot to haunt that ground. 
 
 That Palace — was Rienzi's home — 
 Rienzi — pride, and scorn of Rome : 
 
PALACE OF RIENZI. 117 
 
 Whose arm — alone — awhile upbore 
 Her column in its strength of yore. 
 'Tis rumour 'd yet, his spell had pow'r 
 To summon to that ruin'd tow'r 
 Spirits, that to his eye of flame, 
 Rome's arm'd avengers— nightly came. 
 Metellus — either Scipio — there — 
 And either Brutus wav'd in air, 
 His blade — 'mid these, Rienzi stood, 
 And grasp'd each dagger dark with blood. 
 That time, from Tyber's shouting shore 
 A voice went forth far regions o'er; 
 The voice that rous'd by Sorga's stream 
 Lone Petrarch from his Laura dream, 
 And silencing Love's gifted lyre, 
 Drew from its chords Alcaeus' fire. 
 
 
( 118 ) 
 ON 
 
 A PEASANT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ABRUZZI MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Alas for thee, poor mountain Swain ! 
 
 Alas for thee, whose fatal toil 
 
 Reaps death on Rome's sepulchral soil ! 
 
 Rock, nor tree, nor kindly shed 
 
 Shade from the Dog-star's flame thy head. 
 
 Poor mountain Swain ! 
 
 Nurs'd by the spirit of the untainted wind ! 
 
 Thy sweat- drop boils upon the parch'd champain 
 
 Interminably spread. 
 
 In vain thou cast'st thy look behind : 
 
 O'er-wearied, ere thy noon-task done, 
 
 Thou sink'st beneath the blazing sun : 
 
 Vainly before thy failing eyes 
 
 The pine- woods of Abruzzi rise : 
 
PEASANT OF THE ABRUZZI. 119 
 
 Vainly in currents cool and clear, 
 
 As if to mock thy mortal woe, 
 
 Thou seem'st to see, thou seem'st to hear 
 
 The fresh springs of Abruzzi flow. 
 
 The waving pine and waterfall 
 
 Thy spirit shall no more recall. 
 
 They, who, at Dawn's first roseate glow 
 
 Saw youth's keen ardor on thy brow, 
 
 While free winds with thy ringlets play'd, 
 
 Fresh'ning thy cheek with brighest bloom, 
 
 Ere Night lets fall her soothing shade, 
 
 Look on thy paleness in the tomb, 
 
 And weep upon their staff of age 
 
 Broke, broke, ere ceas'd their pilgrimage. 
 
( 120 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 PONTINE MARSHES. 
 
 Fiend of the Marsh ! who from beneath yon woods 
 That sweep along the sea-beach, wing'st thy way 
 In viewless vapour at the noon of day, 
 
 Spreading th' infection of the unsunn'd floods, 
 
 Far off thou hover'd'st that auspicious hour 
 Which led me o'er th' undeviating road, 
 When, bright with spring, all nature freshly glow'd, 
 
 And from the sun-beam stole its genial pow'r. 
 
 On, as I sought Campania's blest domain, 
 Behind me, bold Albano's wooded brow, 
 Dark-rising from the lake that slept below, 
 
 Tow'r'd like the guardian of the Latian plain. 
 
 Eastward, a cultur'd region slowly rose 
 In smooth ascent, till boldly on the steep 
 Proud Cora, where the Volscian mountains sweep, 
 
 Bad on her Doric fanes the eye repose. 
 
THE PONTINE MARSHES. 121 
 
 Before me, where Theodoric's palace tow'r'd, 
 Bright Anxur, on her rocky crest aloft 
 Shone like the new-fall'n snow, and sweetly soft, 
 
 The south wind told how fair her orange flow'r'd. 
 
 But where the sun went down in waves of gold, 
 Stretch'd far and wide a grassy champain lay : 
 Itself of old beneath the sea-god's sway 
 
 Had felt the heave of billows o'er it roll'd. 
 
 The milk-white kine, and jet-black buffalo 
 
 There, pasturing, gambol'd, and wild colts whose 
 
 mane 
 Swept the luxuriance of the unshorn plain, 
 
 In challenge of the winds rac'd to and fro. 
 
 A stream on either side, and o'er the mound 
 In double rows the elm and poplar hung, 
 Where pleasant birds their amorous carol sung, 
 
 And all the air rang with delightful sound: 
 
 Here, Ufens glided peaceably, and there 
 Swift Amasenus rushing, deep and clear, 
 Bore record of the Exile's trusted spear, 
 
 That wing'd his Infant* thro' the void of air, 
 
 While his bold arm dash'd back the torrent's swell. 
 Nor be that mount forgot, where echoes float 
 Of Homer's minstrelsy, whose dulcet note 
 
 Rests on Circello like th' enchantress' spell. 
 
 * See the interesting story of Camilla in the 11th Book of the 
 AZneid. 
 
122 THE PONTINE MARSHES. 
 
 And who in blissful hour that brow shall climb, 
 May trace each feature of the sacred earth, 
 Where Virgil gave his Rome immortal birth, 
 
 And bound her Being in his magic rhyme. 
 
 Lavinium, Tyber, Ostia burst on sight, 
 
 Filling the plain afar with wonder and delight. 
 
( 1*3 ) 
 
 THE BANDIT. 
 
 Speed onward — day withdraws its light, 
 
 The shadows lengthen into night: 
 
 The woods a gloomier horror breathe, 
 
 And vapours spread th* envenom'd wreath. 
 
 Lo! where yon ruin'd cities rest, 
 
 Like clouds upon the mountain's crest, 
 
 There, in his den, 'mid rocky cells, 
 
 Hereditary Murder dwells. 
 
 Speed! ere down those pathless steeps 
 
 The Arab of Italia sweeps. 
 
 That spring of limb, tharbreadth of mould, 
 
 A Mercury and Mars infold. 
 
 Round the robber chieftain blaze 
 
 Stones that beam back the solar rays, 
 
 Love-tokens that gay brides have worn, 
 
 And rings that dowred dames adorn — 
 
 A carbine, slung at either side, 
 
 Clangs from his girdle's plated pride, 
 
124 
 
 THE BANDIT. 
 
 And o'er his rich-embroider'd vest, 
 A cross and poniard guard his breast. 
 Speed, ere beneath th' impatient steel 
 Th' assassin's grasp thy blood congeal, 
 O'er life and death the balance hold, 
 Slow-bartering limb by limb for gold. 
 Ah! if the promis'd ransom fail, 
 Deem not that mercy will avail. 
 Reft, like the eagle's living prey, 
 From earth, and all her race away, 
 Where never whisper of thy woe 
 Shall reach the stranger world below, 
 Akin to human-kind no more, 
 Dead art thou, ere existence o'er, 
 Ere the last stab thy torture end, 
 And blood-hounds on thy corse contend. 
 
 Speed, traveller! speed! adown yon steeps 
 The Arab of Italia sweeps. 
 
( 125 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 LAKE OF COMO. 
 
 Mountains i on whose granite crests 
 
 Above the clouds the eagle rests, 
 
 Where the shy chamois haunts the untrodden snow : 
 
 Glaciers ! and ye whose torrents flow, 
 
 Gushing down glens that wind between 
 
 The Grisons and the Valteline : 
 
 And thou, still Lake ! that sleep'st yon heights among ; 
 
 I may not rudely pass thy loveliness unsung. 
 
 Fain would I in these votive numbers weave 
 Thy memory, and the enchantment of that day, 
 When from fair Dawn to rosy-vestur'd Eve 
 Bright Summer thro' thy haunts led on my way : 
 Now amid dazzling sun-beams, as the ray 
 Flash'd from the oared water, now amid 
 Cool shadows from the wilderness of wood, 
 
12G THE LAKE 
 
 And grots in darkness hid : 
 
 Or where along the mirror of the flood 
 
 Shone palaces, with dome, and colonnade, 
 
 Before whose marble steps bright fountains play d 
 
 'Mid trim parterres, and arbors quaintly shorn 
 
 By artful toil, that here and there displayed 
 
 A Flora, grac'd with Almalthea's horn, 
 
 Pan, or a piping Fawn, who glads the groves, 
 
 Or quiver'd Dians under gilt alcoves. 
 
 But — lovlier far, fair Como ! lovelier far 
 Thy solitudes, and th' untam'd wantoning 
 Of the sweet woodbine, that, ne'er taught to cling, 
 Clasps the wild rose, and closely interweaves 
 Its ring of trailing twine 
 To deck the rustic porch, and wed the vine, 
 Where the green trellis of th' exuberant leaves 
 Shades off Italia's sun-beam. Lovelier far 
 Where wild flow'rs wanton are, 
 And th ! unseen violet beneath the tread 
 Betrays its fragrant bed, 
 To wind along the margin of the lake : 
 Or in the coolness of the rocky cave 
 With icy drops the fiery lip to slake, 
 And watch the flow and ebbing of the wave, 
 ^ here Pliny wont to muse : and, free from Rome, 
 
OF CO II O. 
 
 Pomps, and gorg"d theatres, and vain parade 
 Of train'd disputes beneath the sophist's dome, 
 By other teacher taught, and better lore, 
 Where the coy Spirit of the Water stray'd, 
 
 ion d the fount: or lone on Como's shore 
 Found Wisdom, making solitude a home. 
 Nature a book. — Far lovelier to explore 
 The leafy labyrinths, o'er whose growth, on high 
 I ~ Yd the stone-pine, while streams that flowci. 
 beneath 
 nd, musical, their many-sparkling wreath. — 
 
 And can I pass those roofs irnmng 
 That o'er the lake so peaceful hung, 
 Where on each rock that view'd the flood 
 The hamlet of the woman stood ! — 
 The woman, who there dwelt alone : 
 Her sire — her son — her husband — gone: 
 Gone all, save one, who now withheld. 
 Basks in the sun, an hoary eld, 
 And to the grand-child on his knee 
 Repeats in fond garrulity, 
 Strange tales of far and foreign lands, 
 While the child spreads his wondering Ion 
 And feeds the wish, like him, to roam. 
 And bring the tale of peril "home. 
 
128 THE LAKE 
 
 Yes — o'er that eld ere close the tomb, 
 
 The boy, in manhood's brightest bloom f 
 
 Leaves the young bride, so lately blest, 
 
 Leaves the fair infant on her breast, 
 
 And o'er the world in exile driv'n, 
 
 Leaves Como's lake, his earthly heav'n. 
 
 Have we not seen him on his way 
 
 A stranger 'mid our cities stray, 
 
 And in the track his fathers wore, 
 
 Retrace their footsteps o'er and o'er, 
 
 And proffer to the passers by 
 
 The treasures of his pedlary? 
 
 And is his birth-place quite forgot, 
 
 His earthly heav'n remember'd not? — 
 
 No — Como's lake before him lies v 
 
 Her rocks, her peaceful roofs arise : 
 
 Here, his stone-seat, and there the sod 
 
 On which his little foot first trod, 
 
 And every flow'r his little hand 
 
 First wedded to the rocky strand. 
 
 He hears the bleating kid he bred, 
 
 And wild notes from the mountain head: 
 
 Calls on the bride his young arm prest, 
 
 And clasps the infant on her breast. 
 
 Hence, wanderer! hence! — return, return — 
 
 Soothe thy own heart : — soothe those that mourn. 
 
OF COMO. 1 
 
 Ne'er on thy eyelid Peace shall dwell, 
 Till hiv'd thy honey in that cell : 
 Till on the threshold of that door 
 Thou vow the vow to part no more, 
 And where thy blissful childhood past, 
 In that rock cradle breathe thy last. 
 
 And I would fain that thou, my song, recall 
 The twilight's shadowy fall, 
 When, wearied of the sun-light, and the glare 
 That flash'd from off the flood, I woo'd the air 
 To cool me, where on green Belagio's brow 
 I heard the night-breeze blow : 
 And back recall the moon, that, while I lay, 
 And heard the waters play, 
 Full-orb'd in all her brightness, burst above 
 The darkness of the grove, 
 And o'er the lake diffus'd her silver day. 
 Sweet was it, under myrtle shade reclin'd, 
 To listen to the whisper of the wind : 
 Sweet was it, to behold on either side 
 The crystal flood divide, 
 Making an isle of that green eminence : 
 And watch the sails that flash'd on the far stream, 
 Now seen, now lost, 
 Like fire-flies glancing thro' the moonlight gleam, 
 
 K 
 
130 THE LAKE OF COMO. 
 
 As winds the current cross'd : 
 But sweeter far, at midnight hour, 
 When song has witchery pow'r, 
 At measur'd interval to hear 
 The cadence of the oar keep time 
 To the Italian rhyme, 
 
 As some fay boat drew nearer and more near, 
 Attemper'd to the touches of the lute, 
 And smoothly-flowing flute ; 
 And when the oar had resting, and the gale 
 Fann'd with fresh breath of flow'rs the sail, 
 To hear around the winding of the cove 
 A voice, whose word was song, steal thro' the lip of 
 love. 
 
 Oh, sweet Belagio! when the tear will flow 
 At sense of rooted woe, 
 
 Breathe back the voice that, winding round the cove, 
 Stole thro' the lip of love : 
 And give again thy water's silvery gleam, 
 And all that glanc'd in light beneath that moonshine 
 beam ! 
 
( 131 ) 
 
 VALLOMBROSA. 
 
 Must I then leave you, hermit haunts ! nor trace 
 Once more the scenes that, varying on my way, 
 Made, like a transient dream, the summer day 1 
 No more search out the consecrated place 
 Where o'er a Milton's harp a seraph rose, 
 As Autumn thickly strow'd her leaves o'er Vallom- 
 brose ? 
 
 On you that dream still rests : o'er vale and mead, 
 Onward I pass by Arno's pebbly bed, 
 And skirt the slope where vines and olives wed. 
 Hamlet, and farm, and lonely cot recede, 
 And Arno, dwindled to a scanty rill, 
 Twines, like a silver thread, between each closing 
 hill. 
 
 Deep glens succeed ; and now the stony tract, 
 Where on the ridge the sun's meridian force 
 Glares, like a spreading flame, athwart my 
 course ; 
 
 k 2 
 
132 VALLOMBROSA. 
 
 While far beneath, the unseen cataract 
 Gives to the gale a voice, and seems to say, 
 " Come, wanderer ! in my stream thy fever'd lip 
 allay : 
 
 " Seek these wild woods : there list the lulling 
 " sound, 
 " The music of the motion of the leaf, 
 " Unmix'd with murmur of a human grief: 
 " And dip thy chalice in yon gulf profound, 
 " Whose water, in its current cool and clear, 
 " Streams from a fount unmix'd with stain of human 
 tear." 
 
 At once the flame has ceas'd, at once the gale 
 Blows freshness, as I rest these pines beneath, 
 And, lingering in their midnight shadow, 
 breathe. 
 And now I bid th' advancing abbey hail, 
 That in the centre of the velvet lawn 
 Comes, welcoming my step from yon dark woods 
 withdrawn. 
 
 Beneath th' embowering beech that crowns the 
 glade 
 Fed by the rills that burst its roots between, 
 
VALLOMBROSA. 133 
 
 View the bold spread of Nature's woodland 
 scene, 
 Pine-mantled mountains, shade o'er shadowing 
 shade, 
 Where, bluer than the ocean's bluest flood, 
 The sky's deep azure cuts the darkly-verdant wood. 
 
 So Eve steals on : but not as seen of yore, 
 The meek companion of the convent bell : 
 Along the voiceless breeze no vespers swell : 
 The abbot and his flock here meet no more. 
 Rude hands have forc'd him from his blest retreat, 
 And baleful weeds o'erspread his hospitable seat. 
 
 Th' unwilling hinds to new possessors bear 
 The vintage, and the gladness of their field : 
 But will their garner'd stores like treasures yield, 
 The widow's portion and the orphan's share ? 
 Will they make poor themselves, the poor to feed, 
 Nor — save the heart's mute thanks — seek other 
 worldly meed ? 
 
 Will in their walls the friendless find a friend . 
 Will helpless Infancy, and hopeless Age, 
 Look, to their roof their misery to assuage I 
 
 Will to their home the houseless pilgrim bend ? 
 
134 VALLOMBROSA. 
 
 Will Frailty there his secret soul expose, 
 
 And at their porch lay down the burden of his woes ? 
 
 Ah ! hapless Exile ! tho' severe thy lot, 
 
 Tho' bow'd by years, in hopelessness of age, 
 O'er yon strange world thou pass thy pil- 
 grimage : 
 Not yet has earth thy mercy-deeds forgot. 
 Where'er thou wander'st, Peace with thee abide ! 
 Thy resting place is heav'n — and God thy guide ! 
 
( 135 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 LAKE OF NEMI. 
 
 Still in its deep abyss the water lay. 
 
 Where once the fire-flood roar'd, and central flame 
 
 Reft earth's disjointed frame, 
 
 Dark in the noon of day 
 
 The gloomy lake profound, 
 
 By Nemi's pathless woods encompass'd round. 
 
 Aloft, on a bold eminence I stood, 
 And gaz'd on that dark lake, beneath a grove, 
 Where, like a gliding spectre seen to move, 
 The pale Carthusian his lone way pursued 
 In silence, thro' the interdicted wood, 
 Where female foot may ne'er unblam'd intrude : 
 Lest, haply seen, a form too fair 
 Immingle with their hermit's pray'r, 
 And downward draw the heav'n-fix'd eye 
 To earthly angel passing by. 
 
136 THE LAKE OF NEMI. 
 
 It was not thus of old, 
 Yet echo dwells on tales by poets told 
 Of Nemi's woods, and groves where garlands hung : 
 And songs by females sung, 
 And hymned strains of virgin melody, 
 That hallow'd on the votive lyre 
 The goddess of the silvan choir, 
 Who left for these wild shades her native sky. 
 They sung, by her to life restor'd, 
 Him whom the Attic muse deplor'd. 
 They sung, how here with hound and horn 
 The coy, chaste youth wont rouse the morn, 
 Thro' sacred groves the stag pursue, 
 And trace, where Dian pass'd, her foot in sunless 
 dew. 
 
( 137 ) 
 
 TERRACINA. 
 
 Traveller ! thou whose weary tread 
 
 Has pass'd the lingering way, 
 Where in wide waste around thee spread, 
 
 The Pontine marshes lay : 
 Where the bright dew-drops, that adorn 
 The glist'ning meads at summer morn, 
 
 Distil a baleful show'r, 
 And Eve's soft shade, and Eve's soft breath 
 Float on a mist, that guards with death 
 
 The wizard's tainted bow'r. 
 
 Haste to a rock that lowly bows 
 
 His front to meet the main, 
 Where Morn a breeze from Ocean blows 
 
 That Eve's glad wings retain : 
 A breeze, that in the glare of day 
 Sleeps on the noon-tide's sultry ray, 
 
 But wakes at fall of night, 
 
138 TERRACINA. 
 
 And on the dewy moonbeam sails, 
 And wings with joy and health the gales 
 On Terracina's height. 
 
 Come to the rock, that shadowy cove, 
 
 Where earth and ocean meet, 
 And spirits of the sea and grove 
 
 Enwreathe their glancing feet : 
 Now, sportive, round the rocky base 
 The sunbeam on the billow chase, 
 
 And laugh to hear the while, 
 In the smooth sea that lies below, 
 A fragment bounding off the brow, 
 
 Fall from Theodoric's pile. 
 
 There thou shalt spy the bashful train : 
 
 Or, if they shun thy view, 
 The scenery shall thy step detain, 
 
 The fair creation new : 
 The palm-tree on the mountain height, 
 The aloe soaring to the light, 
 
 That bold in beauty tow'rs ; 
 The orange, that on every shoot 
 At once, its bud, its bloom, its fruit, 
 
 On Terracina show'rs. 
 
TERRACINA. 139 
 
 Wind round the cliff in sweet delay — 
 
 Why stays thy faltering pace ? 
 Yon rocks, that seem to bar thy way, 
 
 Shall ope, and yield thee space — 
 Advance — the verdant plains expand 
 That lead thee to the loveliest land 
 
 Beneath th' Ausonian skies : 
 And Terracina's fairest flow'rs 
 But strow the path to fairer bow'rs, 
 
 Where on her waveless sea th' enchanting 
 Syren lies. 
 
( 140 ) 
 
 CARRARA. 
 
 On to the bleak and barren Appennine, 
 Where Nature in her wiJdness walks alone 
 On the rude mountain rock, and shapeless stone. 
 Trace her coy footstep to her central shrine, 
 Thro' many a darksome glen and deep ravine, 
 Where foaming torrents pour their floods between. 
 There view, with domes and radiant temples crown'd, 
 A city rise, th' enchanter's hand beneath. 
 Lo ! its inhabitants, a marble race, 
 Sea-Nymph, or Naiad, Satyr, Faun, or Grace, 
 Stern Jove, or Love's enticing goddess, breathe, 
 And woo thy stay. — But, linger not — pursue 
 A path, by bubbling brooks, along the dell, 
 Where amid verdant hills that smoothly swell, 
 The marble mountain tow'rs before thy view, 
 Carrara's un wrought temple. — There behold, 
 How Sculpture on the mount engraves their name, 
 Theirs, in that quarry, those rude rocks among, 
 
CARRARA. 141 
 
 Who, led by Genius, step by step along, 
 
 Pass'd to immortal fame. — 
 
 Nor fail thou in that region to deplore 
 
 Canova, in his noon of glory gone : 
 
 Who oft in tranced vision, bending o'er 
 
 The mountain's marble brow, 
 
 On rugged fragments round confus'dly thrown, 
 
 The shapeless mass below, 
 
 Saw each fine form the Graces had enshrin'd 
 
 In the pure sanctuary of his cultur'd mind : 
 
 And, like the youth, who, on his air-borne steed 
 
 From fetters loos'd rock-bound Andromeda, 
 
 Unchain'd the struggling limbs, and boldly freed 
 
 The form of Beauty, that unseen, unknown, 
 
 A living statue lay tomb'd in th' imprisoning stone. 
 
( 1« ) 
 
 TIVOLI. 
 
 Spirit ! who lov'st to live unseen 
 
 By brook, or pathless dell, 
 Where wild woods burst the rocks between, 
 And floods, in stream of silver sheen, 
 
 Gush from their flinty cell! 
 
 Or where the ivy weaves her woof, 
 
 And climbs the crag alone, 
 Haunt'st the cool grotto, day-light proof, 
 Where loitering drops that wear the roof, 
 
 Turn all beneath to stone. 
 
 Shield me from Summer's blaze of day, 
 
 From noon-tide's fiery gale, 
 And as thy waters round me play, 
 Beneath th' o'er shadowing cavern lay, 
 
 Till Twilight spreads her veil. 
 
 Then guide me where the wandering moon 
 Rests on Maecenas' wall, 
 
 
TIVOLI. 143 
 
 And echoes at Night's solemn noon, 
 In Tivoli's soft shades attune 
 The peaceful waterfall. 
 
 Again they float before my sight 
 
 The bow'r, the flood, the glade ; 
 Again on yon romantic height 
 The Sibyl's temple tow'rs in light, 
 
 Above the dark cascade. 
 
 Down the steep cliff I wind my way 
 
 Along the dim retreat, 
 And, 'mid the torrents deaf 'ning bray, 
 Dash from my brow the foam away, 
 
 Where clashing cataracts meet. 
 
 And now I leave the rocks below, 
 
 And, issuing forth from night, 
 View on the flakes that sunward flow, 
 A thousand rainbows round me glow, 
 
 And arch my way with light. 
 
 Again the myrtles o'er me breathe, 
 
 Fresh flow'rs my path perfume, 
 Round cliff and cave wild tendrils wreathe, 
 And from the groves that bend beneath, 
 
 Low trail their purple bloom. 
 
144 TIVOLI. 
 
 Thou grove, thou glade of Tivoli, 
 
 Dark flood, and rivulet clear, 
 That wind, where'er you wander by, 
 A stream of beauty on the eye, 
 Of music on the ear : 
 
 And thou, that when the wandering moon 
 
 Ulum'd the rocky dell, 
 Did'st to my charmed ear attune 
 The echoes of Night's solemn noon, 
 
 Spirit unseen ! farewell ! 
 
 Farewell! — O'er many a realm I go, 
 
 My natal isle to greet, 
 Where summer sunbeams mildly glow, 
 And sea-winds health and freshness blow 
 
 O'er Freedom's hallow'd seat. 
 
 Yet, there, to thy romantic spot 
 
 Shall Fancy oft retire, 
 And hail the bow'r, the stream, the grot, 
 Where Earth's sole Lord the world forgot, 
 
 And Horace smote the lyre. 
 
( 145 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 BORROMEAN ISLANDS. 
 
 ISOLA MADRE. 
 
 Stranger ! if e'er th' Homeric lay 
 Wing'd thee to distant seas away, 
 Whose azure girt th' enchanted isle 
 That bloom'd beneath Calypso's smile : 
 Where every wave that reach'd the shore, 
 A sound as from a Syren bore : 
 Where earth put forth perpetual flow'rs, 
 With fruits perpetual deck'd her bow'rs, 
 With vines o'ercanopied the grove, 
 And swell'd with moss the couch of Love : 
 While, 'mid the leaves that lightly stirr'd, 
 The dove that woo'd her mate was heard, 
 And ever from the viewless caves, 
 Far echoes of the woods and waves, 
 
146 BORROMEAN ISLANDS. 
 
 Mingled and multiplied each sound 
 
 That spread in soft confusion round : — 
 
 Speed to yon island : speed with me : 
 
 Come to the bow'rs of Borromee ; 
 
 And in their magic circle view 
 
 Scenes fairer far than Homer drew. 
 
 Or — where by fond devotion led, 
 
 Sorrento's coast I visited, 
 
 Not there to seek her green alcoves, 
 
 Her citron bow'rs, her golden groves, 
 
 And streams that, freely gushing down, 
 
 Arch their smooth beds of lava stone : 
 
 But that my step might touch that spot, 
 
 In Fancy's day-dream ne'er forgot, 
 
 Where o'er her Tasso's cradle hung 
 
 The Muse that smooth'd the Tuscan tongue. 
 
 Hast thou, too, glow'd beneath that roof, 
 Where the bard wove his fairy woof, 
 And in its web that isle enwreath'd, 
 O'er which Armida magic breath'd ? 
 When doubtful of the spells that lie 
 On Love's mute lip, and speaking eye, 
 And subtler witcheries imprest 
 On Beauty's throne, the female breast, 
 The fair-one bad seductive Art 
 To Nature's charms new grace impart, 
 
 
BORROMEAN ISLANDS. 147 
 
 And on Creation, summon' d round, 
 The girdle of enchantment bound. 
 Where'er she mov'd, a brighter sky 
 Beam'd forth, and form'd her canopy ; 
 Where'er she lay, the lap of earth 
 Bloom'd with new flow'rs of fairer birth; 
 Or from the rose and violet drew 
 A balmier breath, a lovelier hue. 
 Do these enchant thee ? Come with me, 
 Come to the isle of Borromee, 
 And feast thy restless gaze, untir'd, 
 E'en on the spot that Tasso nYd. 
 
 List the low airs that slowly move, 
 As loth to leave the orange grove, 
 Or stir a leaf, whose umbrage throws 
 O'er the dim trellis deep repose ; 
 Drink in each breath nectareous dews, 
 Where new-born flow'rs unfold their hues, 
 And in the crystal of the lake 
 View heav'n itself new beauty take. 
 
 But — pause not there : pursue thy round : 
 Rest not thy foot on charmed ground ; 
 Fly — a dark fiend beneath the leaves 
 A spell of strange oblivion weaves. 
 l2 
 
148 BORROMEAN ISLANDS. 
 
 Fly — lest beneath Circean sway 
 
 The mould of man should melt away, 
 
 And like the herds that idly graze, 
 
 Thou slumber out life's dreamless days : 
 
 Ere thou forget thy native earth, 
 
 Ere cease to boast a Briton's birth, 
 
 Forget what Virtue, Glory claim, 
 
 Proud Flonour's glow, bright Freedom's flame, 
 
 And thou, in Slavery's realm a slave, 
 
 Find a strange home, and foreign grave ! 
 
( 149 ) 
 ON 
 
 PiESTUM. 
 
 Not yet the morn-star had his light withdrawn, 
 
 Not yet the sun had ris'n : while thick the dews 
 
 Hung on the branch, impatient of the dawn, 
 
 To Psestum's solitude I sped my way. 
 
 'Twas the sweet season, 'twas the birth of May, 
 
 When gladness swells the universal voice, 
 
 And all that live in very life rejoice. 
 
 Onward I went rejoicing. But when lay 
 
 Before me Psestum's desolated ground, 
 
 The sun in noontide blaze refus'd its light ; 
 
 And suddenly on wings of violent sound 
 
 A storm-cloud, dark as night, 
 
 Rush'd from th' o'ershadow'd mountains, and amain 
 
 'Mid gusts of hail-stones burst th' o'erwhelming rain, 
 
 And thunders peal'd, and, preluding their roar, 
 
 Wing'd flames that rent the clouds travers'd the 
 
 welkin o'er. 
 Yet — the dread thunder-peal, the lightning fire 
 
150 P^STUM. 
 
 That rent the clouds, and fitful flash'd between, 
 Seem'd, as accordant with the gloomy scene, 
 Deep awe, and solemn feelings to inspire. 
 But when the sun at transient interval 
 Burst thro' the veil, and on the desert laid 
 Its golden light, at once, with all their pomp 
 Of massive pillars, in their strength array'd, 
 Broader and brighter from surrounding shade, 
 Range answering range, the giant temples rose 
 Before me, like a forest avenue 
 Of oaks, beneath a thousand winters' snows 
 Grown gray. And still, where'er I turn'd my view 
 On the colossal fanes, incumbent Time 
 Deepen'd the character that Greece of yore 
 Bad Genius and her high-soul'd sons adore, 
 Th' Herculean grandeur of her Doric prime, 
 Simple — severe — sublime. 
 
 Sole monuments of nations long unknown ! 
 Ye, in your strength alone, 
 Stand 'mid the desolate region, where of old 
 Dense population swarm'd. — How drear the shore, 
 O'er vacant billows vacant billows roll'd, 
 Where the sail ceas'd not gleaming, nor the oar 
 Its restless labour. — Void the courts that view'd 
 O'er hecatombs, the incense columns rise, 
 
P^STUM. 151 
 
 Dark'ning the sun-pav'd skies. 
 
 Where now the images, the molten gods, 
 
 The trident-bearer, and the brow of Jove, 
 
 Whose grandeur glorified your proud abodes ? 
 
 Where fouler forms hid in the neighb'ring grove ? 
 
 The singers, where ? and the gay choir that tim'd 
 
 The timbrels on their breast ? 
 
 And they, whose loose hair, widely streaming, 
 
 breath'd 
 Fresh fragrance, as the floatings of their vest 
 In dance at solemn feast, like shadows, wreath'd 
 The giant columns ? Where the hallow'd pomp 
 Of sacrifice, the victim, and the priest, 
 Who, when the offerings on the altar blaz'd, 
 Look'd down with fate's stern eye, and inly gaz'd 
 On doom'd futurity, while yet the beast 
 Reek'd in warm blood, and palpitating life 
 Throbb'd underneath the knife ? 
 Gone are they — and ye too, proud fanes ! who view'd 
 Throughout their wide vicissitude 
 The birth-day, and the death of ages past, 
 While suns and mutable moons their courses roll'd, 
 Till the gray world wax'd old : 
 Ye, who, regardless of the thunder's blast, 
 Unto the whirlwind say, and gathering storm, 
 That your colossal form 
 
152 P^STUM. 
 
 Shall o'er times yet unborn its shadow cast : 
 
 Oh ! that ye too had fall'n, and found your grave 
 
 In th' earthquake's fathomless cave, 
 
 Ere that, un' wares, some hapless traveller, 
 
 By science led, and love of antique lore, 
 
 Your relics to explore ; 
 
 Who, awe-struck, half a worshipper, had bent, 
 
 O'er each religious monument; 
 
 And now had gather'd, as from Nature's tomb, 
 
 One last memorial of his toil, 
 
 A Paestan rose, twice-crown'd with yearly bloom, 
 
 To grace his native soil, 
 
 Had perish'd by the dark assassin's hand 
 
 Beneath the temple's gloom. 
 
 So, so to leave, far from his father-land, 
 
 His bones unblest on your abandon'd shore, 
 
 To whiten in the suns that bleach your strand, 
 
 Long as your temple lasts — till time shall be no more. 
 
( 153 ) 
 
 NAPLES 
 
 " Rest, wanderer ! rest — all nature sleeps 
 Tis noontide's slumberous hour. 
 
 On the parch'd earth no insect creeps, 
 No serpent stirs the bow'r : 
 
 And curtain'd in the blushing rose, 
 
 The Dees their wearied wings repose. 
 
 The bird, at rest, forgets her song, 
 No cloud through heav'n's blue zone 
 
 Strays, while the noon-sun moves along, 
 And walks in light alone : 
 
 A quiet stills the world of waves, 
 
 And sea-nymphs sleep in coral caves. 
 
 Here lay thee in my lap to rest 
 
 While lazy suns wheel by, 
 There dream of her thou fanciest, 
 
 And wake, and find her nigh : 
 
154 NAPLES. 
 
 And I will lead thee to a grove 
 Where hangs a lute attun'd by Love. 
 
 That lute to me by Love was lent, 
 Sweet notes, and sad, there dwell : 
 
 Sweet as his voice that wins assent, 
 Sad as his breath'd farewell : 
 
 Yet — in its sadness, moving more 
 
 Than all that won thy smile before." 
 
 Cease, Syren! cease thy song! — Thy witcheries 
 
 sweet 
 No more shall lure me to thy native main : 
 No more, Parthenope, thy haunts detain 
 My slow-receding feet. 
 
 Yet while I breathe farewell, beam on my sight, 
 Beam on me yet, fair scene, surpassing fair ! 
 Soon, like a vision wove of air, 
 In transient colours bright, 
 A vision, that before the orb of day 
 Melts into liquid light : 
 Thus wilt thou glide, evanishing away 
 In thy clear heav'n's blue distance. — Beauteous 
 
 scene, 
 Beam on me yet ! — Too swiftly speeds the hour, 
 
NAPLES. 155 
 
 When I no more the fragrance shall inhale 
 
 That gives to every gale 
 
 The breathing of the south — the orange bow'r. 
 
 Already Time has wav'd the wing, 
 
 Under whose darksome covering 
 
 I shall no more behold 
 
 Yon gray rocks, nor the green and gilded isles 
 
 Where the broad sun-light smiles : 
 
 Nor Chiaia's groves, that, as their branches sweep 
 
 Along the slumber of the Syren bay, 
 
 Confuse their image in the glassy deep : 
 
 Nor on Vesuvio's height 
 
 The pillar'd cloud by day, 
 
 Nor eminent afar the shaft of fire by night. 
 
 I shall no more behold Misenum's crest, 
 That high o'er ocean lifts its thirsty brow, 
 While ceaselessly below 
 
 The white waves curl their fleece around its breast : 
 Nor where bright sun-beams in perpetual rest 
 Sleep on Sorrento's cliff: nor e'er again 
 View Caprea's craggy outline, bleak and bare, 
 Heave its huge sweep, and, mid-way, meet the 
 
 storm, 
 Lest wind or wave unkind the Syren bay deform. 
 
156 NAPLES. 
 
 I shall no more behold the smooth descent 
 Of Somma, where the burning mountain throws 
 The shadow of its cone in noon repose ; 
 Nor beechen groves, that from the blazing sky 
 Shelter the hermit on Camaldoli : 
 Nor daylight die in Pausilippo's gloom : 
 Nor hail, 'mid purple vines, the hallow'd seat 
 Where yet the Muses meet 
 
 Beneath th' o'ershadowing bay that crowns their 
 Maro's tomb. 
 
 If never more beneath that shade 
 I muse, in blissful vision laid : 
 If never more, at Day's decline, 
 By Chiaia's groves, and Mergelline, 
 I lonely seek that hallow'd spot: 
 Here live — by me forgotten not — 
 That peaceful eve — the last — the last — 
 When 'mid those blooming bow'rs I past. 
 So shall that scene, on fancy's wing 
 My woodland wilds revisiting, 
 Breathe o'er my haunt a charm, of pow'r 
 To solace life's declining hour. , 
 
 The sun in splendor had retir'd, 
 And brighter flames Vesuvius fir'd, 
 
NAPLES. 157 
 
 Far Ischia's peak was bath'd in stream 
 Of purple from the evening beam, 
 While many an isle beneath its height 
 Sank slowly fading into night : 
 No cloud pass'd o'er the clear blue sky, 
 No star, save Hesper, gliding by, 
 Nor wav'd a leaf on flow'r and tree, 
 Nor ripple cross'd the slumberous sea: 
 Nor sound more harsh in aether heard 
 Than trilling of the love-lorn bird. 
 So calm that eve, so sweet that scene, 
 When last I went o'er Mergelline : 
 And, as within that haunted gloom 
 I pass'd, and bent o'er Maro's tomb, 
 I heard a voice, that seem'd to say, 
 " Stranger! who dar'dst in youthful year 
 " Attune to Britain's ear 
 
 " The reed that Tilyrus blew, here, rest thy way! 
 " Rest, where the pastoral gods came list'ning to his 
 " lay. 
 
 " The Bard, at gray of dawn, 
 " View'd in yon velvet lawn 
 " The wood-nymphs dancing on the dewy blade: 
 " And sometimes Pan was seen 
 n Winding the choir between: 
 
158 NAPLES. 
 
 " Or stretch'd, in noontide sleep, beneath yon 
 
 " shade, 
 " Where Solitude and Silence watch'd around, 
 " Nor Echo dar'd prolong the whisper of a sound. 
 
 " Oft, when the winds were still, 
 " On yon flow'r-gemmed hill 
 " An Oread stood, deserting his bleak mountain: 
 " Each tree a Dryad bred ; 
 " And where the rivulet spread, 
 " From a pure urn a Naiad fed her fountain, 
 " And if th' unhallow'd stranger ventur'd nigh, 
 " Veil'd in a wreath of foam, sank from his daring 
 " eye. 
 
 " And oft a voice was heard, 
 " More sweet than vernal bird, 
 " Song of a Nymph some blooming boy beguiling: 
 " And when, bow'd o'er the brink, 
 " He hung, her words to drink, 
 " An arm more white than snow, with amorous 
 
 " wiling, 
 " Entic'd him to her crystal cave profound, 
 " Whence ne'er again on earth his foot's light print 
 
 " was found." 
 
NAPLES. 159 
 
 Let me once more around the silent bay 
 Of Baia wind my way, 
 And idly rest the interrupted oar 
 That sheds its brine drops on the sculptur'd stone, 
 And wrecks that pave the shore, 
 With glossy sea-sedge and smooth weeds o'ergrown : 
 Nor seldom, as it dips beneath the main, 
 On the rent palace strikes, and prostrate fane : 
 Such as, 'tis said, the seaman has descried 
 At times beneath the tide: 
 And told of Nereids, in their amber cave, 
 That still frequent that wave : 
 And monsters of the deep, that make their home 
 Where Caesars deign'd with revellers reside, 
 And, diadem'd with flow'rs, forgot the world, and 
 Rome. 
 
 Thou cool reviving hour! 
 Nurse of awaken'd thought, return again : 
 That I may feel thy spirit-stirring pow'r, 
 Thy freshness on that main, 
 That silent sea, which slumber'd motionless, 
 The while I sought th' Elysian glades, 
 To lie at noon in sweet forgetfulness, 
 'Mid unembodied shades. 
 
160 NAPLES. 
 
 Return ! lo ! twilight dim 
 
 Has pal'd the horizon's rim, 
 
 And Phoebus sinks in Amphitrite's bow'r. 
 
 Breathe thou again the vesper hymn 
 
 Of nature on the rising gale : 
 
 And fill again the swell of sail, 
 
 While, fearlessly, the helmsman joys to weave 
 
 From isle to isle my way beneath the star of eve. 
 
 Shall I no more, with gradual foot-step slow, 
 Wind up the deep ascent, 
 And, resting on St. Elmo's battlement, 
 Behold a paradise beneath me lie, 
 A region of fertility, 
 
 Earth, one bright garden, one bright lake the sea : 
 And hear the while, soft blended from below, 
 From thousands and ten thousands, round me flow 
 One voice, that ever with the breeze upsent, 
 Comes mingling with the murmur of the main, 
 And swells upon the ear like a melodious strain? 
 
 What tho', ere long, on Britain's guardian main 
 1 hail the cliffs of Freedom's sacred earth ; 
 And with glad foot revisiting again 
 The spot that gave me birth, 
 
NAPLES. 161 
 
 Repose my wanderings in the woodland plain: 
 What tho' ere long, from life's loud din aloof, 
 In the still haunt where peace descends to dwell, 
 Beneath her wing, that shades my household roof, 
 I bid the world farewell : 
 And tho' that household roof be doubly dear, 
 Because its threshold has so long been strange ; 
 And tho' I would not one home-smile exchange 
 For ceaseless summer, and th' Italian year, 
 And all Ausonia's range : 
 Yet — Albion! when thy sullen mists roll by, 
 And, like a sea of foam, thy vapour sweeps 
 O'er the dim earth, and from thy summer cloud 
 Bleak winds descend, and drizzly Autumn weeps, 
 Mildewing the harvest as the ears unfold : 
 How may I then the azure heav'n forget? 
 How — not those suns regret, 
 That rise, and rest in gold : 
 And upward draw the soft ethereal haze, 
 Which, as it melts away in liquid light, 
 The burning of the sultry beam allays, 
 And casts a magic colour on the sight, 
 That softens into union hill and dale, 
 And between heav'n and earth spreads its translu- 
 cent veil? 
 The dream will linger on the blest champain, 
 

 162 * NAPLES. 
 
 From hill to hill where groves of olive grew, 
 O'er which the grape her purple clusters threw : 
 While earth beneath wide wav'd with billowy grain : 
 And all around the golden orange glow'd 
 On bow'rs, beneath whose bloom the waveless ocean 
 flow'd. 
 
 Yet — beauteous as thou art, ah! happier far 
 Had'st thou less lovely been, Parthenope! 
 Ah ! happier far for thee, 
 
 Had'st thou less lovely been, or that kind heav'n 
 Had with the gift of fatal beauty giv'n 
 Thy sons the spirit and the arm in war 
 To quell th' invader. — But thou still hast bent 
 To each bold suitor, and resign'd thy charms, 
 Like her, the peerless Fair, 
 Who drew brave knights to solemn tournament 
 And mortal strife in arms, 
 
 Her hand the prize — thus, hast thou, Syren! stood 
 Aloof from perilous combating : 
 And when the conqueror came from fields of blood, 
 Unhelmeted his brow, and kiss'd the ring 
 That fetter'd thee to conquest — each, in turn, 
 Each, of thy charms in turn possest, 
 Forgot the battle on thy breast: — 
 Rome, and the Goth, and they who bore 
 Fierce war from Odin's icv shore : 
 
NAPLES. 163 
 
 And they who, sprung from Otho's stem* 
 
 Circled th' imperial diadem : 
 
 And he who round his helmet wreath'd 
 
 The rose, whose sweets of Provence breath'd, 
 
 Whose steed on Benevento's plain 
 
 Waded in blood o'er Manfred slain, 
 
 And crush'd the flow'r of Swabia's line, 
 
 On thy pale brow, young Conradine. 
 
 Bow down beneath the despot's yoke, 
 Thou, whose rang'd host, when Freedom call'd, 
 Ere yet the shock of arms their battle broke, 
 Fled from Rieti's shore : fled back appall'd, 
 To slumber where their sires had slept, 
 And the upbraiding woman wept 
 O'er her man-child's ill-fated birth : 
 Born to bow down his front sublime, 
 Low-levell'd with the dust of earth : 
 A criminal, without a crime : 
 To live and die a branded slave, 
 Nor find in death a freeman's grave. 
 So shall she weep, while yon bright sky 
 Retains its azure brilliancy; 
 While heav'n outspreads her sheltering roof, 
 And robes her with its sunny woof: 
 m 2 
 
1 
 
 164 NAPLES. 
 
 Till nature shall no longer yield 
 
 Fresh harvests from the untill'd field : 
 
 Till the ripe chestnut cease to shed 
 
 On earth's full lap th' unpurchas'd bread : 
 
 Till the gold fruit its feast decline, 
 
 Nor swells a grape with pendent wine : 
 
 Till on the mount the snowy flake 
 
 Fail her summer thirst to slake: 
 
 Till elements of sterner mould, 
 
 Suns dark with clouds, earth clos'd with cold, 
 
 That brace the native of the north, 
 
 Force, by kind harshness, manhood forth, 
 
 In Wants chill breast a soul inspire, 
 
 And strike from flints the spark of fire. 
 
 Once, Naples ! thou wert free ; 
 And Fortune, as in mockery of thy woe, 
 Press'd on thy lip, athirst for liberty, 
 Th' intoxicating chalice, whose o'erflow 
 Works merciless frenzy. — On, before thee, rode 
 One, oer whose brow a nation pois'd a crown, 
 Wrought by rude hands, worn with continual toil, 
 And slaves that delv'd the soil. 
 A mariner's white garb his robe of state, 
 His canopy the heaven, his audience-throne 
 'Mid the throng'd market, an unsculptur'd stone, 
 
NAPLES. 165 
 
 Where, at his side, th' assessor, Justice, sate : 
 
 There, Naples hail'd her choice, her low-born son, 
 
 Whose daily task had of the scaly deep 
 
 Scant earnings made, and spread his net to dry 
 
 In sun-shine, on Amalfi's rocky steep. 
 
 The Fisher, thus, like Rome's Rienzi, soard: 
 
 Thus, each in evil hour, 
 
 The idol of a realm, the man ador'd, 
 
 A murder'd victim fell, hurl'd from the height of 
 
 pow'r. 
 Such Gallia's worshipp'd Chief: he, at whose frown 
 Earth's fetter'd kings bow'd down, 
 Ere Britain's arm and lightning stroke 
 Shiver'd the galling yoke : 
 And the doom'd exile, where wild billows roar 
 Around a shipless shore, 
 On the bleak cliff of a volcanic rock, 
 Like chain'd Prometheus, in the lightning's blast, 
 Proudly defying Fate's severest shock, 
 Breath'd out his last. 
 
 Naples ! awake ! awake ! 
 Each stone whereon thy swarms in sunbeams sleep, 
 Sprung from the riven womb of central night, 
 Where'er thou turn'st thy sight, 
 Round thee thy earth, thy sea, thy every isle 
 
166 NAPLES. 
 
 One element of fire. — On yonder brow 
 The blazing flood, that drank the Peep below, 
 Tow'r'd in its rage o'er Epomeo's pile ; 
 The blast sulphureous from Agnano flows, 
 And green Astroni's woods the crater's womb en- 
 close. 
 
 Ask of yon palace, round whose marble crest 
 The sea-winds softly breathe, 
 On what foundation bas'd, securely rest 
 The pillars of its strength ? — Securely rest ! 
 On Herculaneum — on a sea of fire, 
 Whose deluge swept the revellers from earth 
 In madness of their mirth : 
 
 Their gods, their arts, their science swept away. 
 Their winding-sheet a flame ; and on their grave, 
 Where never earth-worm pierc'd the unyielding clay, 
 And banqueted on death, the lava lay; 
 Nor aught remain'd for future time to trace 
 A relic of the race, 
 
 Save when relentless toil forc'd up to light 
 Thro' the rent rock, whose subterranean bed 
 Dissevers day from night, 
 The living from the dead, 
 
 Th' equestrian statue, and the fire-bound scroll : 
 Or, where the torrent, as it ceas'd to roll, 
 
NAPLES. 167 
 
 Slow hardening on a Hebe's living breast, 
 
 In th' eternal stone that beauteous mould imprest. 
 
 Naples! awake! 
 Hast thou not heard of Stabia, and that sage, 
 Who, when the flame-cloud hung o'er all thy shore, 
 And lightning flash'd along his lifted oar, 
 There steer'd his prow : and, questioning the rage 
 Of the fierce elements that rav'd around, 
 While Death before him shook his fiery brand, 
 Sank on the burning sand ? 
 
 Leave we the horrors of the former age 
 Grav'd on th' historic page. 
 Enough what thou hast suffer'd. — Naples ! say, 
 Hast thou not witnessed, thou, in this thy day, 
 Thy heav'n with flame now vaulted, and anon 
 With darkness, as the smoke's dense mass roll'd on? 
 Hast thou not seen Death lift aloft thy shroud, 
 And in colossal stature reach the sky, 
 And stand upon the column of the cloud 
 Whose rest was on thy mount, and from its gloom 
 Hurl blazing rocks, and launch the lightning down 
 That clave earth's central womb ? 
 Hast thou not seen the mountain to and fro 
 
 ! 
 
168 NAPLES. 
 
 Reel, in the rocking of the thunder blast, 
 
 And o'er thy plains and populous hamlets cast 
 
 A sea of flames, consuming all below, 
 
 And Ocean from that sea of flames retire : 
 
 While from the ether, canopied with light 
 
 Caught from the billowy fire, 
 
 A crimson circle fell on far Misenum's height ? 
 
 And sleep'st thou yet on thy volcanic bed ? 
 Cast off thy bridal robe, Parthenope ! 
 And lay thee in the city of the dead, 
 And heap her ashes on thy uncrown'd head : 
 So deprecate thy doom : 
 
 Lest Earth should rend, and o'er thy revels close 
 The unremember'd tomb, 
 Till Time's slow hand the sepulchre expose, 
 And thou but rise a stranger to discern 
 Such as Pompeia views, lone-bending o'er her urn. 
 
 Lo ! shaking off the dust that veil'd her tombs, 
 The shroud wherein her buried glory lay, 
 Pompeia, looking on the light of day, 
 'Mid living towns her birth-right re-assumes ; 
 And wondering why her sons in exile roam, 
 Lifts her maternal voice, and calls the wanderer 
 home. 
 
NAPLES. 169 
 
 " Return ! why stay you? throng this festive gate : 
 " For you these vaults reserve their hoarded wine ; 
 " Haste to yon forum : heap with gifts this shrine ; 
 " Th' impatient theatres your press await, 
 " The track your wheel has worn, the car shall greet, 
 " Tread where each stone retains the pressure of 
 
 " your feet. 
 " Come !" — But no voice yields response — none re- 
 turn. 
 Such as thou art, Pompeia was — Behold, 
 Her portals wide unfold. 
 
 Death waits thy coming : and, impatient, graves 
 The doom of Naples on Pompeia's urn. 
 Go, where rob'd Luxury drew her train along, 
 And the lute made more sweet the Lesbian song : 
 Where breath'd the statue, and the painter's pow'r 
 Glow'd on her walls, and wanton'd in her bow'r : 
 Where for her foot, all hues of earth, sea, skies, 
 Mixed the Mosaic's fairy-paved dies, 
 Where, for the Chian wine, Greece subtly chased 
 The gemmed chalice that her banquet grac'd : 
 Go, where Sidonian girls her tap'stry wove, 
 And Tyre's deep purple ting'd her couch of love : 
 Go, where the Ocean God her pearls entwin'd, 
 And wing'd her tribute in with every wind : 
 
170 NAPLES. 
 
 Go, where mid dance and song, and pomp and pride, 
 The mortal cast mortality aside : 
 There, through the street of tombs, pass on alone. 
 A thousand and a thousand years had thrown 
 Their burdens off, since they who rear'd the tomb 
 Had sunk in sunless gloom. 
 Yet I beheld, methought, where'er I went, 
 A living mourner on each monument, 
 Methought the sculptor shap'd the yielding stone : 
 So fair each marble sepulchre arose, 
 So fresh each votive word, where Lamia's wrecks 
 repose. 
 
 Yet shall Pompeia pass — her second rise 
 The spell of her eternity unseal'd : 
 One hour her force and feebleness reveal'd. 
 Oh thou ! that half emerging into birth, 
 Half buried in obscurity, 
 Like Milton's lion, combating with earth, 
 Strugglest thyself to free ; 
 Thou city of the dead ! why woo the light ? 
 Thy life was wedded to sepulchral gloom. 
 Thy bridal vesture, the dark shroud of night. 
 The sunbeams that thy radiant courts relume 
 But glitter on thy tomb. 
 
NAPLES. 171 
 
 Already, Time on thee his shafts has sent 
 
 Barb'd with each hostile element. 
 
 Already, day and night's vicissitude, 
 
 Alternately renew' d, 
 
 Keen conflict wage — the winds that softly flow, 
 
 And heat and cold, the dew-drop and the rain, 
 
 Whose freshness robes the plain, 
 
 And lends thy lively tints a livelier glow, 
 
 Have struck the fatal blow. 
 
 Day after day, thy pomp to dust shall turn, 
 
 Nor mortal eye again Pompeia's trace discern. 
 
 Stranger ! haste ! no more delay : 
 Where yet yon vine's blue clusters shed 
 A living lustre o'er the dead, 
 Sweep off that ashy mantle light, 
 And catch the wonders opening bright : 
 Speed, ere the colours fade away : 
 Frail as the arch that spans th' ethereal plain, 
 When on the cloud of eve the sun declining, 
 And fairer thro' the sever'd tempest shining, 
 Pencils his image on each drop of rain; 
 While underneath its sweep, the glist'ning bow'rs 
 Smile in the dewy light, and shed their diamond 
 show'rs. 
 
172 NAPLES. 
 
 Lo, radiant porticos appear, 
 Halls that painted columns rear, 
 Courts where central fountains play'd, 
 Galleries that the noon-sun shade : 
 Here, Isis' mystic fane, and there 
 Each marble-structur'd theatre. 
 What tho' no roof the radiant courts enclose, 
 Fantastic figures, beaming from below, 
 Along the rich Mosaic brightly glow : 
 All that from Raphael's fairy pencil flows 
 In graceful arabesque the walls adorn, 
 Wing'd nymphs that float in air, and wind the 
 wreathed horn. 
 
 Now a wing'd Zephyr beckons to the sail, 
 And now, in all the brightness of her smile, 
 A goddess woos thee to her blissful isle. 
 Here, fruits bloom forth ; there, flow'rs that fear the 
 
 gale 
 Drop from their opening bells bright pearls below, 
 Where sea-things wave their fins, and gambol to and 
 
 fro. 
 
 Amid this splendor ! splendor ! look again. 
 Chase not those phantoms vain. 
 
NAPLES. 173 
 
 If ever yet unveil'd mortality 
 
 Held in the human heart unquestioned pow'r 
 
 To claim an awful hour : 
 
 If e'er the image of man's sentence, Death, 
 
 ChilPd the warm blood, and froze youth's glowing 
 
 breath, 
 Look on Pompeia ! — None but thou art found 
 On that sepulchral ground. 
 The echo of thy solitary tread, 
 On the worn flint, disturbs with daring sound 
 The silence of the dead. 
 
 How sweet is Silence, when, from worldly din 
 Free, Fancy shapes her own fair images, 
 And peoples all the solitude it sees 
 With the conceptions of the soul within — 
 Joy's youthful choir, or visions high and holy, 
 Or soft and soothing forms of patient melancholy ! 
 Not such the silence that inhabits here, 
 The solitude around Pompeia spread. 
 I, too, methinks, tomb'd in a nation's bier, 
 Seem number'd with the dead. 
 The sun, methinks, has o'er me clos'd his beam, 
 The last low sigh, the fluttering pulse has ceas'd, 
 From joy, from woe, from hope, from fear releas'd, 
 I look on life as a departed dream, 
 
174 NAPLES. 
 
 And that already I have reach'd the bourn 
 Whence foot of mortal man shall never more return. 
 
 It is not horror, in unwitness'd gloom, 
 To bend at times in sorrow o'er the tomb, 
 And meditate, beneath the churchyard yew, 
 Whence our light foot instinctively withdrew, 
 Wing'd with life's freshness : but, when death has 
 
 been 
 Familiar with our home, and youth's new scene, 
 So tempting in its novelty, has lost 
 Its wonder, and the charm that tempted most 
 The untried joy : when Time — ourselves unware — 
 Has, with the auburn, mix'd the silver hair : 
 And we have wept o'er the funereal earth 
 Of those whose tear was rapture at our birth : 
 Of her, on whose maternal breast we hung, 
 Whose lip first form'd the answer of our tongue : 
 Of the gay playmate of our youthful year, 
 Source of our joy, and solace of our tear : 
 Of the firm friend, whose faith, in peril tried, 
 Unshaken stood and turn'd the world aside : 
 And the fair child, on whose sustaining breast, 
 We, in our second childhood, hop'd to rest : 
 That haunt, tho' awful, yet in awe, has pow'r 
 To temper grief, and soothe the mournful hour. 
 
 
NAPLES. 175 
 
 'Tis not as in Pompeia — 
 
 At least, a living hand has toll'd the bell, 
 
 That to the passing spirit breathes farewell : 
 
 x\t least, the grass there waves, and o'er the dead 
 
 Creation has a verdant mantle spread, 
 
 And kindly hides, while pass the living by, 
 
 The painful image of mortality. 
 
 We think on some, who on that bed of rest 
 
 Have cast the weight of anguish from their breast : 
 
 On some, who on that lenient spot have found 
 
 The medicine for the immedicable wound. — 
 
 We think on age, who, pillow'd on that bed, 
 
 Rests, bow'd with weight of years, th' o'erwearied 
 
 head: 
 We think on those, who, in life's earliest stage, 
 There clos'd their swift, their sinless pilgrimage, 
 And pure from earth, whereon they scarce had trod, 
 Pass'd from a parent's bosom to their God. 
 And if of happiness, of hope, bereft, 
 We dwell with one in Death's dark chamber left, 
 With one, sole lov'd, on whose descending bier 
 We gaz'd in agony that shed no tear : 
 And when the unechoing earth, like lead, was flung, 
 " Dust unto dust," in speechless woe we hung, 
 While, audibly, o'er the convulsed frame, 
 Chill as Death's icy grasp a shudder came : 
 
176 
 
 NAPLES. 
 
 Our heart, unsever'd, haunts that hallow'd ground, 
 There the lone vestige of our footstep found, 
 There breath'd the pray'r, in that still spot to rest 
 Our brow in peace on that beloved breast ; 
 And from that peaceful spot — earth's trial o'er — 
 In bliss to re-ascend, and part no more. 
 
 But in the dust o'er all Pompeia thrown, 
 None shall their woe, or weight of years lay down 
 None on her graves bend o'er a planted flow'r, 
 More sweet than ever bloom'd on Flora's bow'r. 
 All, all her race extinct, their memory gone, 
 There the pale King of Terror dwells alone, 
 And crushes underneath his iron tread 
 The chain that links the living and the dead. 
 
( W ) 
 
 FAREWELL TO ITALY. 
 
 Realm of the Sun ! bright Italy ! farewell ! 
 My parting lay receive ! 
 Now, as beneath this waving canopy, 
 The green leaf purpled by the beam of eve, 
 On the fern's fragrant bed I lonely lie, 
 Where one broad oak o'erhangs the haunted well, 
 And dreams of pleasures past in summer woodlands 
 dwell. 
 
 Haunts of my childhood ! and thou, lone retreat, 
 Mid these wild woods, rude scenes, for whom I left 
 Augusta's festive seat! 
 I come in your still sanctuary once more, 
 To dedicate my summer holiday, 
 As oft in years of yore, 
 To Peace, that builds her cell in solitude. 
 So might I, haply, charm awhile away 
 Thoughts unsubdued : 
 
178 FAREWELL 
 
 Unquiet thoughts, that no festivities, 
 
 Nor dream from haunted well, or charmed wood, 
 
 Can from the soul dissever. Rise ! arise, 
 
 Vision of Italy ! and thou, my lay, 
 
 Go from these forest glades, 
 
 These solitary shades, 
 
 To bright Italia's realm pursue thy way : 
 
 If aught of northern clime, 
 
 Rude as my artless rhyme, 
 
 With kindly greeting may her gifts repay, 
 
 To bright Italia's realm pursue thy destin'd way. 
 
 Tell her, tho' many a moon has past 
 With lingering grief o'ercast, 
 And woe eclips'd the sun and summer day, 
 Since that delightful hour 
 
 I breath'd the fragrance of th' Hesperian bow'r : 
 Her voice, her viol, mute, 
 Untouch'd the witching lute, 
 That drew the moonbeam to the Syren main : 
 Tho' nought now round me heard, 
 Save the self-echoing bird, 
 
 Or bleat of the shy doe that bounds along the plain : 
 Yet — when I raise to Saturn's realm the strain, 
 The voice, the lute, the moon, the Syren sea, 
 
TO ITALY. 179 
 
 And each enchanting scene 
 
 Of glen and valley green, 
 
 And wreathings of the crystal waterfall, 
 
 And all of fruit and flow'r 
 
 That robes th' Italian bow'r, 
 
 In vision round these wilds her paradise recall. 
 
 Tell her, again I feel 
 The transport of that moment, when, at first 
 Freed from tempestuous Simplon's gloom profound, 
 And earth in ice-chain bound, 
 From hail-stones and the frozen gale I burst, 
 And view'd the purple cluster wreath'd 
 Round green Dovredo's brow, 
 And felt, from opening paradise below, 
 Airs that of Eden breath'd ; ' 
 The while I pass'd two different worlds between, 
 Beholding either scene : 
 Behind me, lay 
 
 Winter with all his storms, with all his night : 
 Before my way 
 
 Summer, with all her pomp, with all her light : 
 Italia's sun, in summer's noontide glow, 
 Beam'd on a world, where, visibly imprest, 
 The glory of its Maker seem'd to rest: 
 A world without a woe. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 FAREWELL 
 
 Go, thou, my lay ! salute the Alpine height, 
 On whose ice-throne the golden orb of day, 
 With ineffectual ray, 
 
 Looks, wondering, down : and bids the earth behold, 
 And all of mortal mould, 
 Their Maker in the marvels of his might, 
 The God Creator. — Ye, whose race reside 
 In peace on pleasant places, where free rills 
 Feed the green vales, or down the pastur'd hills 
 In tuneful murmurs glide : 
 And ye, 'mid pomp of cities, that abide 
 Where rivers, rolling thro' the marble arch, 
 Pursue their stately march, 
 
 And with your treasures freight th' encumber'd tide : 
 Deem not that yonder mountains but uphold 
 A theatre, for Nature to display 
 Her grandeur, when the mists of Morn unfold, 
 And the young Day walks on the rocks in gold : 
 Or when a diadem of roseate glow 
 Circles their monarch's crest, 
 To bid at eve the wearied sunbeams rest, 
 And wreathe their radiance round th' eternal snow, 
 While darkness hides the giant Alps below. 
 
 Let others, labouring up the steep ascent 
 With wearied footstep slow, 
 
TO ITALY. 181 
 
 Envy the lonely Chalet, where content 
 
 Dwells with the mountain boy, whose Alpine note 
 
 So wild, so sweet, at twilight heard to float, 
 
 Where the free herd wind, pasturing, to and fro 
 
 Thro' ice-crown'd vales, the wanderer recalls, 
 
 Home-caroling the way 'mid crystal waterfalls. 
 
 Let the adventurous native scale the crest 
 
 That guards the geyer's nest : 
 
 Or search the haunt where lone, 'mid realms of 
 
 snow, 
 The chamois lurks : and oft, a voice, a word, 
 A breathing by the watchful avalanche heard, 
 Hurls swoln destruction on a world below. 
 Let others on Mont-Blanc's sublimity, 
 At noon-tide, underneath the sunbeams, stand, 
 In speechless awe, and view the heav'n expand, 
 And, 'mid the host that gem the blue, blue sky, 
 Trace in their eourse the planets, one by one, 
 Wheel round the central sun. 
 Thou, on that eminence, that ice-crown'd stone, 
 Whose granite base is sepulchred in night, 
 Adore thy Maker's might. 
 
 Thron'd on Mont-Blanc, on Europe's topmost 
 stone, 
 A minist'ring servant of Omnipotence, 
 
182 FAREWELL 
 
 Winter reigns alone: 
 
 And as th' Etesian gales o'er ocean blow, 
 
 And clouds on clouds, o'ershadowing, as they roll, 
 
 The realm's outstretch'd below, 
 
 Bear the wing'd waters to their destin'd goal, 
 
 With his petrific sceptre stays their flight : 
 
 And compassing the Alps with icy belt, 
 
 Draws from the marble ether thickly down 
 
 The frozen flood. — Meanwhile, from fathomless 
 
 snows 
 That 'neath th' eternal congelations melt, 
 Ceaselessly, day and night, without repose, 
 Vast waters flow, and bursting into day, 
 Boldly through ice-built arches force their way, 
 'Mid cavernous rocks : and as they onward sweep, 
 Majestic in the fulness of their might, 
 Down the worn channels to their parent deep, 
 'Mid realms of life and light, 
 New robe the purple hill, the grove, the plain, 
 And make earth's shouting bed a sea of golden 
 
 grain. 
 
 Thus Nature lives perpetually renew'd. 
 Th' Etesian gales, the mountain, and the main 
 Link her connected chain. 
 
 
TO ITALY. 183 
 
 One aim, one end, thro' all alike pursu'd : 
 One — the Creator God — in each vicissitude. 
 
 Resistless Adige ! thou, whose torrent force 
 Cleaves the Tyrolian mountain's barrier chain: 
 And thou, Eridanus ! whose length of course 
 From its ice-cradle, on the Alpine brow, 
 Wide-wand'ring to and fro, 
 Looks down on the luxuriance of the plain, 
 Where Labour, with Briarean hands, 
 Guardian of the region, stands, 
 Mound heaps on mound, and loftier rears 
 The rampart of a thousand years, 
 To stem th' invading floods : — Ye too, ye lakes ! 
 Who spread your mirror to the orb of day : 
 Whose nectar draught th' o'er-wearied pilgrim 
 
 slakes : 
 Whether the fresh springs from their flinty cave 
 Feed your translucent wave : 
 Or snow-floods, deluging the vales, outspread 
 Th' exuberant waters on your level bed : 
 Ye cool and crystal lakes ! receive my farewell 
 
 lay!— 
 Como and Alban, and the princely-isl'd, 
 Proud Borromee ! ye, on your liquid glass, 
 Who view'd beneath a sun that ceaseless smil'd, 
 
184 FAREWELL 
 
 My slow sail pass, 
 
 As if its lingering shadow fain would rest - 
 On your unheaving breast : 
 And Garda, on whose margin bloom the trees, 
 The garden of th' Hesperides, 
 Whose high-arch'd groves, of golden glow, 
 Seem'd rising from the flood below : 
 While not a Zephyr stirr'd to wake 
 The sleep that lay upon the lake ; 
 Or with a touch, too rude, confuse 
 Tints that outrivall'd nature's hues : — 
 Thou too, whose loveliness awhile detain'd 
 My charmed footstep on that fairest morn, 
 Of sun and summer born, 
 Thy silent water, silver Thrasymene ! 
 Thou, in thy rest, so pure, so peaceful, seen : 
 As if no Punic war-hoof ere had trod 
 Thy flow'r-enamelFd sod ; 
 
 Nor taint of Roman blood e'er stain'd thy crystal 
 sheen. 
 
 Thou, last, thou midland main, 
 Tuscan and Adrian, hear my farewell strain ! 
 Tho' tempests lash thy billows ; tho', at times, 
 'Tis said, that when the mountains have sent forth 
 A voice, and rous'd the spirit of the storm, 
 From thy profound abyss a pillar'd form 
 
TO ITALY. 185 
 
 Has ris'n, and to the thunder's roar replied, 
 
 And midway met the column of the cloud, 
 
 Incumbent on the billows raging wide, 
 
 And launch'd the lightning from its riven shroud, 
 
 Spouting the torrent tide : 
 
 But thou, oh, midland main ! 
 
 Whene'er my willing foot approach'd thy shore, 
 
 Wert rob'd in loveliness: and, evermore, 
 
 Thy voice — if voice ere heard — 
 
 Mild as the murmur of the halcyon bird, 
 
 That broods on thy charm'd billow : and the light, 
 
 That in its quivering radiance from thee broke, 
 
 Unlike the fire-bolt's fitful stroke, 
 
 From thousand and ten thousand sunbeams glanc'd, 
 
 As wave pursuing wave, 
 
 In wreathed smiles innumerable, danc'd, 
 
 Brush'd by the Zephyr's wing. — Such wert thou 
 
 seen, 
 So bright that sea, when from Sorrento's steep, 
 At daybreak, while the rosy-finger'd dawn 
 From nature had the silvery veil withdrawn, 
 I view'd, where Ocean lay in silent sleep, 
 The Syren's verdant isle — the Emerald of the Deep. 
 
 But lovelier far that sea which woo'd my way 
 To Spezzia's myrtle bay: 
 
186 FAREWELL 
 
 When Genoa the superb, her Pharos' tow'r, 
 That blaz'd on the commanding cliff, and lit 
 Afar the smooth sea-line ; 
 Her marble terraces, and each fair bow'r 
 That, like enchantment, bloom'd her rocks between, 
 And palaces that regal domes outshine, 
 Had gradual sank from sight ; 
 Nor gleam'd from my felucca, lamp, or light, 
 Lest its attractive ray, at distance seen 
 In that still summer night, 
 Might haply lure the lurking Algerine ! 
 And when the night-breeze died, no sound e'er came 
 Along the deep serene, 
 
 Save when at times the outstretch of the oar, 
 That round me show'r'd large drops of liquid flame, 
 Struck on the rocky shore, 
 
 Where tow'r'd, to meet the moon, Liguria's moun- 
 tains hoar. 
 
 These may from memory pass, 
 The Syren isle at day-spring, and at noon 
 Bright Venice pictur'd in her liquid glass, 
 The sea without a wave, 
 Her cradle — and her glory — and her grave : 
 But never more from Memory's mirror bright 
 Shall fade away thy charm, thou blue-rob'd main ! 
 
TO ITALY. 187 
 
 That fix'd me, spell-bound, on Bocchetta's height : 
 
 When first I saw thy world of living light 
 
 In all its splendour glow : 
 
 While o'er Liguria's cliffs unseen below 
 
 The westering orb of day, that downward roll'd, 
 
 Slow in dilating majesty descended, 
 
 Till where the heav'n and sea their boundaries 
 
 blended, 
 It burst their crimson zone, and plung'd 'mid waves 
 
 of gold. 
 
 Yet — more attractive than all, loveliest seen 
 From steep Bocchetta's mountain hoar, 
 Or on the Alban lake, or Thrasymene ; 
 And, to the musing spirit, more sublime 
 Than Term's rush and roar : 
 Or palm-trees, in the pride of Syria's clime, 
 Cresting the radiant rock of Terracine : 
 Th' " Eternal City" tow'rs my sight before, 
 And the rapt vision rests on Tyber's hallo w'd shore. 
 
 Again I gaze on Rome ; again behold 
 The broad sun burst from crimson glow 
 On lone Soracte's crest of snow, 
 Or wheel around the dome his car of gold : 
 Or robe with purple light, 
 The far Campagna fading into night: 
 
188 FAREWELL TO ITALY. 
 
 And still, where'er incline my lonely way 
 Thro' dark woods, or along the sunny glade, 
 Or on the pebbly beach where sea-maids play : 
 Above the mountains of my native land 
 Rome's sev'n-thron'd hills arise ; 
 And thro' the gloom of Albion's clouded skies, 
 Her gold sun, and blue element, expand : 
 And all that breathes of Rome, 
 Rent arch, and ruin'd fane, and swelling dome. 
 The sparkling fountain, and the orange grove, 
 Around me seem to move : 
 Shrill rings her ilex 'mid my native trees, 
 And slow her cypress bends, sway'd by the passing 
 breeze. 
 
 Ah ! never will the hour of after-time, 
 Tho' gliding peaceful by, 
 Present a scene so sweet to Fancy's eye, 
 Or breathe a sound so sweet to Fancy's ear, 
 As that I wont to hear, 
 When at still summer eve's delightful close, 
 Amid colossal wrecks I lonely stood, 
 Relumining the glory, 
 Of Rome's immortal story, 
 By the pale gleaming of her yellow flood, 
 While slowly, waking from its long repose, 
 The voice of ages past from Tybers flow arose. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
( 190 ) 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Virgil's Tomb 191 
 
 The Convent of the Great St. Bernard 196 
 
 Mont Blanc 214 
 
 Mergelline 218 
 
 To the Cardinal Minister Consalvi 220 
 
 On the Death of Francis Horner, Esq 221 
 
 A Fancy Sketch 222 
 
 On Crossing the Anglesea Strait 223 
 
 To Joanna Baillie 224 
 
 The Lay of the Bell 225 
 
 Job — Chap, xxviii 244 
 
wi ) 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 IN 
 
 VIRGIL'S TOMB. 
 
 Not in fond dreara of fancy. Bard divine ! 
 I bring this laurel branch, that ward aloof. 
 Sweeping the sunbeam from thy funeral roof; 
 But — as a votary at the Delphic shrine, 
 Hid from the world in this sepulchral gloom, 
 I wreathe th ; unfading leaf, and wind around thy 
 tomb. 
 
 Thv tomb ! how void ! how wildly desolate 1 
 In this neglected spot no urn remains. 
 No relic that a trace of ::- . ::.vjas: 
 Thee, whose bold song could world's unseen 
 create, 
 And to the shadowy forms of Fancy gave 
 Life and perpetual youth, that ne'er shall know the 
 grave. 
 
192 VIRGIL'S TOMB. 
 
 But tho' thy urn repose no longer here, 
 Be mine to muse on thy funereal mould, 
 And with thy spirit high communion hold : 
 And 'mid the scenes that tranc'd thy youthful 
 year, 
 Invoke the local Genius of the cave, 
 And the sweet sylvan muse that haunts her Virgil's 
 grave. 
 
 Beneath yon rock, with gadding flow'rs o'erhung, 
 The Pastoral Muse to thee her reed-pipe gave, 
 And by the gushing fount, in grot and cave, 
 Taught thee each note that leads her choir 
 along : — 
 Pan leap'd exultant from meridian sleep, 
 And Nymphs that haunt the cliff rush'd, giddy, 
 down the steep. 
 
 Anon, a deeper sound : it shook the wreath 
 That, by fair Egle's wily finger bound, 
 Enchain'd Silenus, stretch'd in sleep profound : 
 It told how Nature heav'd the strife beneath, 
 When Night and Chaos, in primeval birth, 
 Fled from the sun's new beam that rob'd with 
 flow'rs the earth. 
 
VIRGIL'S TOIWB. 193 
 
 But when thy lip held dalliance with the reed, 
 Or, silencing the rude Ascrean strain, 
 Taught how the golden harvest glads the plain, 
 Forms all unwonted to the shepherd's weed, 
 In awful vision pass'd before thy sight, 
 Beneath th' o'ershadowing veil that dimm'd their 
 wondrous light. 
 
 While round thee, flaming with idolatry, 
 Rose images of gods, who, thron'd above, 
 Pledg'd nectar from the Hebe cup of Jove ; 
 While thro' the air wing'd Zephyrs wanton'd by, 
 And a coy Sea-nymph, floating on the main, 
 Hung o'er the charmed wave to hear a Syren's 
 strain : 
 
 And every fount, green hill, and cave enshrin'd 
 A guardian pow'r, and round their votive fane 
 Fauns, and fleet Dryads, and light Oread train, 
 Toss'd in wild trance their tresses on the wind ; 
 And Iris, on her sun-built arch aloof, 
 Drew from Light's sever'd rays her many-colour'd 
 woof: 
 
 Thou, in yon orbs that wheel in living flame, 
 In all that wing the air, or range the earth, 
 
 o 
 
 t 
 
194 VIRGIL'S TOMB. 
 
 Or heave the sea with multitude of birth, 
 One unseen Godhead hail'dst, in all the same, 
 One in each change, who made and moves the whole, 
 One, the unmade, unmov'd, the universal soul. 
 
 Then through thy vision gleam'd celestial fire, 
 
 And from a wing that wav'd in light, a ray 
 
 Fell on the darkness that on Nature lay, 
 
 And chas'd the Pastoral Muse, and all her choir, 
 
 While thy bold breathing from her reed-pipe drew 
 
 Notes of a higher strain than Pan or Sylvan knew. 
 
 The shaggy Satyr to his wood retir'd : 
 
 And, hark ! a sound as of a Hebrew song, 
 Seem'd on thy strain its echo to prolong : 
 Isaiah's breath the shepherd's reed inspir'd, 
 When the Cumean Maid's prophetic rhyme 
 Glanc'd on the unborn age, and rent the veil of 
 Time. 
 
 Then from the sev'n-crown'd hills a voice uprose, 
 A voice that, preluding the Roman fame, 
 Bad thee in verse build up " th' eternal name." 
 The pipe, that idly play'd with pastoral woes, 
 Fell from the lip whose breath the war-notes blew, 
 As Rome in all her pomp burst on thy ravish'd view : 
 
VIRGIL'S TOMB. 195 
 
 All that Evander to his guest disclos'd, 
 
 When lowing herds along the Forum stray'd, 
 All that the hero on his shield survey'd, 
 When on its orb Rome's fame and fate repos'd, 
 And all that peopled the Elysian plain 
 When age on age swept by, and hail'd th' Augustan 
 reign. 
 
( 196 ) 
 
 THE CONVENT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE GREAT ST. BERNARD. 
 
 Temple of hallow'd hospitality ! 
 
 Rear'd on the loftiest height where man dares rest 
 
 Beneath the northern sky : 
 
 The pilgrim's and lost wanderer's sole retreat 
 
 When drifting snow- flakes sweep in tempests by, 
 
 And on the mountain's reeling crest 
 
 The wintry whirlwinds rock thy ice-ribb'd seat. 
 
 Temple of hallow'd hospitality ! 
 How oft, while yet unvisited, 
 The pow'r that guards thy sanctuary divine 
 Amid wild Nature's drear sublimity, 
 From Albion's cliffs my spirit onward led 
 To hail thy pilgrim shrine. 
 And still in thee alone, when first I trod 
 Helvetia's stranger sod, 
 
CONVENT OF GREAT ST. BERNARD 197 
 
 Tho' many a sweet and many a savage scene 
 
 Before me like enchantment rose 
 
 Thy Alpine way between, 
 
 Alone, thou hallow'd spot, in thee I sought repose. 
 
 Swift gleam'd along Helvetia's range 
 Proud cities and wide wastes, and vallies green, 
 In ceaseless interchange : 
 Here, lakes of silver sheen, 
 
 There, wild woods climbing up the mountain brow 
 That crown'd the icy tract, 
 And in dark glens below 
 Bright flashes of the rock-born cataract, 
 Whose fall, at distance heard, 
 Sent up to summer suns a murmuring flow 
 Sweet as the liquid trill of Eve's enamour'd bird. — 
 
 Broad Leman spread between, 
 Where the blue Rhone, as from her icy cave 
 Cleaving the water with a virgin wave, 
 Flows unpolluted. — Sweet it was to breathe 
 At noon-tide, on St. Pierre's commanding brow, 
 Under the oak's broad arms, and view beneath 
 Still Bienne's pellucid lake, forgetful not 
 Of him, self-exil'd from the haunts of men, 
 Who, lost in dreams on that sequester'd spot, 
 
198 CONVENT OF 
 
 Long summer days consum'd, or wont to float, 
 
 All indolent, which way the oarless boat 
 
 Veer'd with the wave. — Sublimely wild the views 
 
 Where Arve, swift whirling thro' his troubled course, 
 
 A flood of torrent force, 
 
 Severs the rocks that cast at noon o'er Cluse 
 
 Strange gloom, and seem to warn th' alarmed eye 
 
 From scenes that, long unknown to stranger sight, 
 
 Make all thy vale, romantic Chamouny! 
 
 A wonder and delight — 
 
 The goatherd, and the shepherd, and their flocks 
 
 Pasturing the crags around, 
 
 And, bosom'd 'mid the ranges of the rocks, 
 
 Cots with their green enclosures, and clear rills 
 
 Wandering with pleasant sound : 
 
 Groves grac'd with fruit, and fields of golden grain, 
 
 That supplicate the sun, 
 
 In the brief circle of his summer reign, 
 
 To stay the glacier, where, with all his force, 
 
 Winter embodying in one mass the snows, 
 
 Brood of a thousand years, 
 
 Slow, silent, imperceptible on course, 
 
 Heaves the ice-lava, and uproots the earth, 
 
 Forest, and field, and all their blissful birth, 
 
 Inheritance of ages. — Other part 
 
 Prone torrents on th' aerial precipice 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 199 
 
 Chain'd in their fall, and mountains, height on height, 
 
 Alp pil'd on Alp, belting the central isle, 
 
 The emerald gem set in eternal ice, 
 
 Where summer flow'rs 'mid frozen oceans smile : 
 
 And eminent o'er all thy range and rise 
 
 Mont-Blanc ! sun-diadem'd with purple glow, 
 
 When all is night below. 
 
 Fair was the day, when at midsummer noon, 
 In verdant Interlachen's walnut bow'rs, 
 While the broad sun, thro' heav'n's clear azure, roll'd 
 O'er Thun's blue lake its orb of gold, 
 Stole unperceiv'd away th' enchanted hours : 
 Or when, amid the rocks of Lauterbrun, 
 I listen'd to the lapse and lulling tune 
 Of the prone rill, that from th' aerial height, 
 Like the soft sprinkle of an April show'r, 
 Dropt glittering down in threads of light, 
 Where Iris in her rainbow dight 
 Saw floating into upper air 
 A thousand sisters sporting there : 
 Or when in veil of mist half seen, 
 I stood the cliff and rill between, 
 And watch'd the Zephyr in his play 
 Brush off with wanton wing the liquid dust away. 
 
200 CONVENT OF 
 
 Nor these — nor that Salvator glen 
 The grandeur of stern Meyringhen, 
 Crags, and wild woods, and rush, and roar 
 Of cataracts down the riven shore: 
 No — nor thy Elfine lake, pure Chede! 
 A mirror for Titania made, 
 Yet, on whose glass, in shadow shown, 
 Mont-Blanc oft views his ice-crown 1 d throne : 
 Nor all, half-wistful, half-appall'd, 
 The stranger sees at Grindelwald, 
 When the prone avalanche descending, 
 On eye and ear strange horrors blending, 
 Bursts on the shiver'd rocks : not these, 
 Nor what Helvetia proudlier sees, 
 A spot than Mont-Blanc more sublime, 
 Where glory to eternal time 
 On a poor peasant's name shall dwell, 
 Thine, that shall Alps outlast, thy name, heroic Tell ! 
 
 I went, 'mid Burglen's sacred walls, 
 Where Freedom Tell's blest birth recalls; 
 I went, where Aschemberg ascends, 
 And with the storm his memory blends, 
 And guards his fane those rocks among 
 Where the unfetter'd steersman sprung, 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 201 
 
 And to the waves and whirling blast 
 
 The bark that bore the Tyrant cast : 
 
 I went, where Kussnacht's slope declines, 
 
 And the Avenger's fame enshrines, 
 
 Where he, whose skill the apple clave 
 
 On his child's head, and dar'd to save, 
 
 Strung with the chord of death his bow, 
 
 And strain'd his strength to wing the blow, 
 
 That when infuriate Ghessler came, 
 
 Quench'd in his heart the shaft of flame: 
 
 Tho' these long stay'd my step, thy Alpine height 
 
 Tow'r'd ever on my sight, 
 
 And still my haunted spirit dwelt on thee, 
 
 Temple of Hospitality ! 
 
 But not thy hallow'd hearth alone, 
 Nor the sublimity that robes thy crest 
 Allur'd me to thy rest. 
 
 It was the dream of youth, th' empassion'd dream, 
 The vision at grey dawn, and close of day, 
 That ceas'd not on my solitary way, 
 By Avon's mazy stream : 
 "When in blest years of wedded happiness, 
 Ere my heart bled with wounds till then unknown, 
 I nurtur'd pleasure at the breast of pain, 
 With sufferings not my own: 
 
202 CONVENT OF 
 
 And woo'd the tragic Muse, and feign'd the tale 
 
 Of Julian's guilt, nor seem'd alone to feign, 
 
 But felt, in simulating deep distress, 
 
 The thrilling spark of the electric chain 
 
 Connecting woe and pity — Alps uprose 
 
 Before me, wheresoe'er the vision led 
 
 The victim of remorse: whether, distraught 
 
 With guilt, the murderer commun'd with the dead, 
 
 With blood in secret shed : 
 
 Or where, 'mid glimpses of the moon I caught 
 
 His half-evanished form, 
 
 When, like the spirit of the midnight storm, 
 
 He tow'r'd upon the mount that rock'd and reel'd 
 
 While thunders round him peel'd, 
 
 And the forkt lightning, as it fir'd the air, 
 
 Hiss'd on his sparkling hair. 
 
 Or whether by the force of fancy sway'd, 
 
 I saw, amid those frozen solitudes, 
 
 Where wildly wandering past, 
 
 The form of one, in guise a mountain maid, 
 
 Who came to breathe her last 
 
 Where once in peace her sinless childhood play'd, 
 
 And youth, in blushing loveliness array' d, 
 
 Like her own Alpine rose, 
 
 That on the margin of its icy bed 
 
 More sweet, more beauteous, grows, 
 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 203 
 
 Tempted the spoiler : and the spoiler came, 
 Woo'd, won her, and betray 'd. 
 
 Accordant to the drama's varying scene, 
 Alps, their proud crests, and wilderness of snows, 
 Before my vision rose: 
 
 The hallow'd dome enshrin'd the rocks between, 
 And every feature of the mountain pass, 
 To travellers on their transient passage shown, 
 Or by hoar pilgrim known, 
 As if my life had there familiar been, 
 Imprest the seal of truth on fiction's shadowy scene. 
 
 I saw the seat of stone, the storm-house, there, 
 Where, day succeeding day, 
 Each dawn a brother left th' unpurchas'd fare, 
 Like heav'n-dropt manna on the desert spread, 
 For the chance wanderer on his toilsome way, 
 Famish'd and faint : there the sepulchral shed, 
 Where they, who 'mid the snows had perished, 
 Lay in the pureness of the icy air, 
 Where never earth-worm revel'd on decay, 
 And death forgot his prey, 
 
 While the lip seem'd, half-ope, to breathe a pray'r. 
 There the twin convent, each, a barrier rock 
 To stand the tempest's shock : 
 
204 CONVENT OF 
 
 The frozen garden, and half-liquid lake 
 
 At noon of summer sun, sheeted with snowy flake. 
 
 But, vain my cherish'd wish : long years went by, 
 Ere on the mountain pass my way had been ; 
 Ere other than the mind's internal eye 
 Dwelt on the Alpine scene : 
 Ere yet the avalanche on th' aerial brow, 
 Gathering destruction on its prone career, 
 Eurst back in distant thunder on the ear : 
 Ere yet I saw the floods, that roll'd in night 
 Beneath unfathom'd snow, 
 Gush thro' the arch of ice, and leap in light 
 To glad the world below : 
 Ere wandering o'er the sea of ice, alone, 
 I sought a spot where mortal ne'er had trod, 
 And, awe-struck, 'mid the wonders of his might, 
 Hail'd the creator God. 
 
 War rag'd the while, and round Helvetia cast 
 His iron barrier : but when Albion rear'd 
 On Fontarabia's tow'r, o'er rescu'd Spain, 
 His Lion banner, and in triumph past 
 Where fell of yore the flow'r of Charlemain, 
 The Paladins at Ronceval, 
 And with the arm that subjugated Gaul 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 205 
 
 To Peace the altar rear'd: in that blest hour, 
 
 When the Alpine boy beside the water-fall, 
 
 Whose stream so late with death had purple run, 
 
 Sang idly in the sun: 
 
 Or round the broad-horn'd leader of his herd, 
 
 Wreath'd the wild mountain flow'r : 
 
 When the grape glow'd on Autumn's jocund bow'r, 
 
 I rang'd Helvetia's realm: and with firm tread, 
 
 As 'mid her mountains bred 
 
 Prest wistful on, and left behind 
 
 Each haunt that shelters human kind, 
 
 Town, hamlet, cot, and chalet roof 
 
 Perch'd on the mount's green slope aloof, 
 
 Woods, where the oak and chestnut blend, 
 
 Or beechen belts the storm defend, 
 
 Wastes where the larch begins to fail, 
 
 Nor birch bends, quivering, in the gale ; 
 
 Or where the o'erwearied eye ^pursu'd 
 
 Th* unfeatur'd face of Solitude : 
 
 W 7 here flow'r ne'er gems the spring with bloom, 
 
 Where summer suns no fruit illume, 
 
 Nor sere leaf gilds the autumnal tree; 
 
 All — winter :— all— sterility. 
 
 Yet 'mid the windings of the rocky steep, 
 
 Where icy tempests sweep, 
 
206 CONVENT OF 
 
 Fresh vigour grew from fresh delight, 
 
 As each known scene, that oft had fancy fed, 
 
 Successive rose on sight. 
 
 There, was the sheltering storm-house, there, the 
 
 shed 
 Where sleep embalm'd the dead, 
 There, the twin convents, each a barrier rock 
 To stand the tempest shock; 
 The garden mockery, and the glassy lake, 
 Where, as when burst the snow-mass on its prey, 
 Half-tomb'd beneath the frozen flake, 
 The Convent Dog, long dead, upgazing lay, 
 And seem'd in act to spring, and toss the snows 
 
 away. 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON 
 
 A DOG, 
 
 OF THE CONVENT OF THE GREAT ST. BERNARD, 
 
 HALF BURIED IN THE FROZEN LAKE, 
 
 BY THE SUDDEN FALL OF AN AVALANCHE. 
 
 Friend of Mankind ! thy service done, 
 Rise thou no more from troubled rest! 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 207 
 
 Nor, watchful of the setting sun, 
 
 Where Pilgrims wander widely quest, 
 As if their sufferings were thy own, 
 And thou wert born for man alone. 
 
 Thou, never more, when raves the wind, 
 Shalt o'er the Alps thy master guide : 
 
 No more, when drifting snow flakes blind, 
 Shalt turn his step from death aside, 
 
 Hang on his hand, and woo him back 
 
 While instinct yet retains the track. 
 
 Thou ne'er again shalt gladly bear, 
 The panier yok'd thy neck around, 
 
 Press on the famish'd lip its fare, 
 
 And bring the band to close the wound : 
 
 Or with thy healing tongue supply 
 
 The balm that lessens agony. 
 
 Thou ne'er again, beneath the snows, 
 
 Shalt search the cleft, and treacherous cave, 
 
 And conscious of sleep's fell repose 
 Arouse the slumberer from the grave, 
 
 And o'er him breathe thy vital breath, 
 
 And by thy warmth reclaim from death. 
 
208 CONVENT OF 
 
 Ah ! thou no more shalt homeward bring, 
 The infant through the frozen air, 
 
 And, as with hand half human, ring 
 The convent bell, nor quit thy care, 
 
 Till on the hearth, before the blaze, 
 
 Thou on his opening eyelid gaze. 
 
 Long on thy loss that hearth shall dwell, 
 Friend of mankind ! farewell! farewell! 
 
 Such, (save that faithful animal, 
 
 Save that lamented dog, that seem'd to breathe, 
 
 At strife with death the ice beneath,) 
 
 Such were the scenes by Fancy oft display'd, 
 
 In Julian's tale portray'd. 
 
 But other, there before me came 
 
 Than Julian's tale had wont to frame, 
 
 The guides, who, 'mid those mountains rude, 
 
 Watch'd, day and night, the solitude. 
 
 No floating beard, with years grown gray, 
 
 White as the snow that crost their way, 
 
 Swept on their breast: no Alpine storm 
 
 Had left its traces on their form : 
 
 Nor toil, nor woe out pacing age, 
 
 Betray'd the sufferer's pilgrimage. 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 209 
 
 Onward they sped, in life's gay morn, 
 Like twins of happiest parents born : 
 Scarce yet had manhood 'gan invade 
 Their cheek, suftus'd with downy shade, 
 But life in all its freshness bloom'd, 
 And beauty glow'd, by health illum'd. 
 
 They, as their wont, upon the Alpine brow 
 That gaz'd on all below, 
 Intent on watch, had seen me on my way: 
 And down the mountain's rapid side, 
 Sped, o'er pathless snows to guide, 
 Ere plung'd in sudden night sank the broad orb of 
 day. 
 
 Oh! could you doubt their kindness? could you 
 doubt 
 Their transport, when they clasp'd a stranger's 
 
 hand, 
 And to the wearied traveller pointing out 
 The convent's long-sought seat, 
 Prest him with welcome salutation bland 
 There to repose, and in that still retreat 
 Claim shelter from the bleak and bitter sky> 
 Claim home and hospitality, 
 p 
 
210 CONVENT OF 
 
 Oh! if you doubt their transport, think on those 
 Who, from their cradled childhood, dedicate 
 To serve the priestly state 
 In dull observances, and formal rites, 
 That never knew repose, 
 
 Had past long listless days, and sleepless nights, 
 Where o'er their brow the cloister's gloom, 
 Had clos'd the living tomb, 
 Stealing from youth the blossom of its May, 
 Its sprightliness away : 
 Who now new-born to natural happiness, 
 Mid scenes of dire distress, 
 In the first lesson of the heart, 
 In sympathies divinely taught, 
 Felt what awaken 'd energies impart 
 To swell exalted thought: 
 
 When, like twin eaglets, that on new fledg'd wing- 
 Cleave the pure ether, revelling, 
 They drank the spirit of th' untainted wind, 
 That, not to them unkind, 
 New brac'd their vigour, and new nerv'd their 
 
 frame, 
 To mate their heav'n rais'd aim, 
 To glorify their God in serving humankind. 
 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 211 
 
 They led me to the convent's open gate, 
 Where the undying fire lost strength restor'd : 
 They led me to the hospitable board, 
 Where, amid stranger guests, the Prior sate : 
 A man of years sedate, 
 Of reverend aspect, and commanding mein ; 
 Yet courteous, as if wont to festival 
 Where lords and ladies grac'd the banquet hall, 
 His way of life had been. 
 
 Nor was it undelightful so to hear 
 In that sequester'd place, 
 Far from the dwelling of man's cultur'd race, 
 Fit converse suited to engage the ear 
 Of learned lore : such as the Prior spake : 
 Whose clear and gifted sense, 
 Might well th' attracted spirit captive take 
 With easy flow of natural eloquence. 
 For not his voice alone 
 
 Dwelt on distress, on those who perish'd there : 
 The stranger, and the native mountaineer, 
 Who in his rash career 
 
 Had chas'd from dawn till dark, o'er seas of glass, 
 The chamois to his solitude, 
 And scal'd the snows, and on their frozen mass 
 Hung, till it burst beneath him — not alone 
 p2 
 
212 CONVENT OF 
 
 Glanc'd on high-lineag'd dames, and men renown'd, 
 
 Who there had refuge found: 
 
 But communing with hoar antiquity, . 
 
 And wrecks long lingering on the rocks above, 
 
 Told how the demon of idolatry 
 
 There hail'd the Pennine Jove : 
 
 And, of a later age, held learn'd discourse, 
 
 Of him of Carthage, whether o'er that mount 
 
 Or one of kindred name, his gather'd force 
 
 Toil'd, conquering nature, as her strength oppos'd, 
 
 And death the ice gates clos'd. 
 
 And at the closing of that transient hour, 
 
 I heard him, pondering on heav'n's will, recall 
 
 Him, his mail'd guest, that sterner Hannibal, 
 
 Who, from his war-rais'd throne, a god in pow'r, 
 
 Dol'd out the world — the Titan of our day — 
 
 The worshipped of Gaul : 
 
 Who like a meteor down the mountains past, 
 
 While on before him, heralds of his way, 
 
 Fame went and fell dismay, 
 
 Deep'ning the roar of thunder on the blast, 
 
 Ere on Marengo's plain death rang'd his war-array. 
 
 So past that eve. 
 Years since have past: but ne'er has memory ceas'd 
 Of thee, saint-founded residence! to weave 
 
GREAT ST. BERNARD. 2\3 
 
 Unearthly visions, and recall that rest 
 
 Which more than sooth'd th' o'er- wearied limbs ; that 
 
 rest 
 Which sooth'd the soul : when, ere to sleep resign'd, 
 In the still peace and sanctuary of the roof 
 Where Faith, where Hope, where Charity abide, 
 I call'd from Heav'n fresh blessings on the blest, 
 The prior, and his brethren, and each guide, 
 Who, reckless of the raging elements, 
 Hear a celestial voice in every wind, 
 And glorify their God in serving humankind. 
 
( 214 ) 
 
 MONT-BLANC* 
 
 Once more, thou Vision! rob'd in light, 
 
 Illume thy mountain throne, 
 Float in soft flame before my sight, 
 
 And wreathe thy triple zone. — 
 Again diffuse th' ethereal glow 
 That rested on th' eternal snow, 
 The band of fire, the roseate hue 
 That round each rival zone unearthly splendour 
 drew. 
 
 Give me the wings that bear the wind 
 
 To speed at will my flight, 
 And leaving earth's low realms behind 
 
 To gain yon Alpine height: 
 
 * As seen by the Author from St. Martin, on the evening of 
 September 2, 1816. 
 
MONT-BLANC. 215 
 
 There to my gaze, on either side, 
 
 Let oceans pour their changeful tide, 
 And populous regions fill the scene, 
 And, tow'ring in their strength, proud cities gleam 
 between : 
 
 Then, in that dark, dark depth of sky, 
 
 At noon-day, one by one, 
 Flame the bright planets wheeling by, 
 
 And world's beyond the sun : 
 Yet, nor the regions spreading wide, 
 Far seas, or cities' tow'ring pride, 
 Or Night's fair host at noon of day, 
 Would from my wondering view thy vision charm 
 away. 
 
 Art thou a gleam of worlds more fair 
 
 Than meet the mortal eye, 
 Where forms that float in purer air 
 
 Illume a brighter sky ? 
 Or say'st thou to the sons of earth, 
 " When Eden bow'rs first hail'd thy birth, 
 " Such the bright zone that fenc'd thee round, 
 " Ere Sin unbarr'd the gate, and Death had entrance 
 « found?" 
 
216 MONT-BLANC. 
 
 Not such array the Nymphs of Morn. 
 
 Who hand in hand advance, 
 Guide thro' heav'n's arch the sun new born, 
 
 And weave in air their dance : 
 Nor when at eve one lonely star 
 Leads his prone steeds, and westering car, 
 Such the bright robes around him roll'd, 
 Tho' each empurpled cloud float o'er a wave of gold. 
 
 Thou beauteous, strange, unquivering light ! 
 
 I saw thee travelling slow, 
 And, ere the sun had sunk in night, 
 
 Pass many a mountain brow : 
 As if, disdainful there to stay, 
 Thou went'st, commission'd, on thy way, 
 To diadem a loftier crest, 
 
 And gathering there thy strength, awhile in glory 
 rest. 
 
 Amid yon mountains far descried, 
 
 With ice eternal crown'd, 
 'Mid glaciers spreading far and wide 
 
 A frozen ocean round, 
 'Mid floods that from unfathom'd caves 
 Sent up the voice of viewless waves, 
 
MONT-BLANC. 217 
 
 Where at the thunder's awful peal 
 Th' o'erbeetling avalanche bursts, and rocks beneath 
 it reel : 
 
 'Mid these, that spake Jehovah's might, 
 
 Where Nature felt her God, 
 My spirit wing'd a loftier flight, 
 
 My foot devoutlier trod, 
 Than where ambitious Art display'd 
 Her pomp, her pillar'd colonnade, 
 And Genius, 'mid adoring Rome, 
 Earth's stateliest temple crown'd, and pois'd in air 
 the dome. 
 
( 218 ) 
 
 MERGELLINE, 
 
 ON THE BIRTH OF 
 CAPTAIN CLIFFORD'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Naples— March 5, 1817. 
 
 Fair Infant ! born in happiest hour, 
 In Nature's loveliest clime, 
 
 Where winter culls the summer flow'r, 
 And bud of vernal prime, 
 
 And halcyons on the sunny wave 
 
 Their floating feathers smoothly lave ; 
 
 Where every breath we joy to breathe 
 
 Inhales the orange bloom, 
 And every weed the foot beneath 
 
 Betrays the press'd perfume, 
 And heav'n, in richest livery drest, 
 O'er ocean spreads her rainbow vest : 
 
MERGELLINE. 219 
 
 Fair Child ! o'er thee the Muse shall bend, 
 
 And breathe her warmest vow, 
 A separate charm each Syren lend, 
 
 To grace thy gifted brow, 
 And name thee, as they hail the scene, 
 Their own, their fav'rite Mergelline. 
 
( 220 ) 
 
 TO 
 THE CARDINAL MINISTER 
 
 CONSALVI. 
 
 Rome— May 22, 1817. 
 
 Thou, whose unyielding hand the fetter broke, 
 Thou, at whose foot the riven chain yet rings, 
 That link'd the might and majesty* of kings 
 To Guilt's proud brow and Murder's hireling yoke : 
 Rome round thy front her civic garland binds. 
 Yet, tho' no longer pointing to the slain, 
 The grim assassin barters blood for gain, 
 Basks in the light of day, and taints the winds 
 With scent of death : bold Statesman ! firm of soul, 
 Advance ! — not yet thy glorious course is run — 
 Free yon Tribunalf to the searching sun — 
 Advance ! — there, Justice at th' appointed goal 
 Shall fix thy guardian image on her shrine, 
 And Mercy o'er thee wave a wreath divine. 
 
 * The suppression of the privileged asylums of the embassa- 
 dors, the nurseries and shelters of assassination, 
 t The Inquisition. 
 
ON HEARING OF THE DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 FRANCIS HORNER, ESQ. AT PISA. 
 
 Written at Rome, February 17, 1817. 
 
 No, not thy friends alone, whose hearts will bleed, 
 When the slow sail, long look'd for, now on way, 
 Shall to the realm that waits thy coming, say, 
 
 " Thou never shalt return" — so heav'n decreed : — 
 
 Nor those whose blessing bad their first-born, 
 « Hail :" 
 Nor yet the brother, who watch'd o'er thy bed, 
 And tears in unavailing 'tendance shed : 
 
 Not these alone; — 'tis Britain I bewail. 
 
 Patriot ! thy arm was stretch'd her realm to save : 
 Death rush'd between — his hand that smote thee 
 
 low, 
 On Britain's reeling column struck the blow, 
 
 And bow'd its shatter'd glory o'er thy grave. 
 
( 222 ) 
 
 A FANCY SKETCH. 
 
 I knew a gentle maid : I ne'er shall view 
 Her like again : and yet the vulgar eye 
 Might pass the charms I trac'd, regardless, by : 
 For pale her cheek, unmark'd with roseate hue, 
 Nor beam'd from her mild eye a dazzling glance, 
 Nor flash'd her nameless graces on the sight : 
 Yet Beauty never woke such pure delight. 
 Fine was her form, as Dian's in the dance : 
 Her voice was music, in her silence dwelt 
 
 Expression, every look instinct with thought : 
 Though oft her mind, by youth to rapture wrought, 
 Struck forth wild wit, and fancies ever new, 
 The lightest touch of woe her soul would melt : 
 And on her lips, when gleam'd a lingering smile, 
 Pity's warm tear gush'd down her cheek the while : 
 Thy like, thou gentle maid ! I ne'er shall view. 
 
( 223 ) 
 
 ON CROSSING THE 
 ANGLESEA STRAIT TO BANGOR, 
 
 AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 'Twas midnight: from the Druid's gloomy cave, 
 Where I had wander'd, tranc'd in thought, alone 
 'Mid Cromlechs, and the Carnedd's funeral stone, 
 Pensive and slow, I sought the Menai's wave : 
 Lull'd by the scene, a soothing stillness laid 
 
 My soul to rest. O'er Snowdon's cloudless brow 
 The moon, that full-orb'd rose, with peaceful glow, 
 Beam'd on the rocks ; with many a star array'd 
 Glitter'd the broad blue sky ; from shore to shore, 
 O'er the smooth current stream'd a silver light, 
 Save where along the flood the lonely height 
 Of rocky Penmanmaur deep darkness shed : 
 And all was silence, save the ceaseless roar 
 Of Conway bursting on the ocean's bed. 
 
( 224 ) 
 TO 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 Sister of Shakspeare ! so not wrongly nam'd : 
 For his divinest spirit on thy birth 
 Look'd kindly down, revisitant on earth, 
 And with like fire thy kindred soul enflam'd. 
 Thou, too, Enchantress ! with a sceptred hand 
 Beckon'st the Passions forth, and at thy call 
 Love, Hate, Ambition, rob'd in tragic pall, 
 Rise, and before thy throne, subservient, stand, 
 To do thy bidding. — Many a future age, 
 
 And bards unborn, shall, as thy strains inspire, 
 Weep o'er thy scenes, and catch from thee their 
 fire. 
 Me, other thoughts, and milder scenes engage : 
 And as I share thy converse, gay and free, 
 And hear thy unambitious language mild, 
 I doubt how artless Nature's simple child 
 Can strike the chords that breathe sublimity, 
 And how the dove's smooth plumes, and level flight, 
 Can soar where eagle's sweep, and bathe their wings 
 in light. 
 
 
( 225 ) 
 
 THE LAY OF THE BELL. 
 
 (fKOM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLEe) 
 
 " The most original and beautiful, perhaps, of all Schiller's 
 poems, unequalled by any thing of Goethe's, is called ' The 
 Song of the Bell,' — a varying, irregular, lyric strain. The casting 
 of a bell, is, in Germany, an event of solemnity and rejoicing. In 
 the neighbourhood of the Hartz, and the other mine districts, you 
 read formal announcements in the newspapers from bell-founders, 
 that at a given time and spot a casting is to take place, to which 
 they invite all their friends. An entertainment out of doors is 
 prepared, and held with much festivity. Schiller, in a few short 
 stanzas, forming a sort of chorus, describes the whole process of 
 melting, the casting, and the cooling of the Bell, with a technical 
 truth and a felicity of expression, in which the sound of the sharp 
 sonorous rhymes, and expressive epithets, constantly forms an 
 echo to the sense. Between these technical processes he breaks 
 forth into the most beautiful episodiac pictures of the various 
 scenes of life with which the sounds of the Bell are connected.*" 
 
 Finos vceo. — Mortucs plango. — Fulgurafrango. 
 
 Fast immur'd within the earth, 
 
 Fixt by fire the clay mould stands, 
 
 This day the Bell expects its birth : 
 Courage, comrades ! ply your hands ! 
 
 * The above passage, in which the peculiar character of " The 
 Bell of Schiller" is desciibed with much taste and feeling, is ex- 
 tracted from a very entertaining publication of Mr. Dodd, " An 
 Autumn near the Rhine." 
 
226 THE LAY 
 
 Comrades ! ceaseless from your brow, 
 Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow : 
 If by his work the master known, 
 Yet — heav'n must send the blessing down. 
 
 The work we earnestly prepare, — 
 
 May well an earnest word demand : 
 When cheering words attend our care, 
 
 Gay the labour, brisk the hand. 
 Then let us weigh with deep reflection, 
 
 What by mere force must be achiev'd ; 
 And rightly scorn his misdirection, 
 
 Whose foresight ne'er his work conceiv'd. 
 'Tis this that human nature graces, 
 
 This, gifted reason's destin'd aim, 
 That first the spirit inly traces, 
 
 What the skill'd hand shall after frame. 
 
 Billets of the fir-wood take, 
 
 Every billet dry and sound ; 
 That flame on gather'd flame awake, 
 
 And vault with fire the furnace round. 
 Quickly cast the copper in, 
 Quickly cast due weight of tin, 
 That the Bell's tenacious food 
 Rightly flow in order'd mood. 
 
OF THE BELL. 227 
 
 What now within the earth's deep womb 
 
 Our hands by help of fire prepare, 
 Shall on yon turret mark our doom 
 
 And loudly to the world declare ! 
 There its aerial station keeping, 
 
 Touch many an ear to latest time ; 
 Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping, 
 
 And tune to holy choirs its chime. 
 All that to earth-born sons below 
 
 The changeful turns of fortune bring, 
 The Bell from its metallic brow 
 
 In warning sounds shall widely ring. 
 
 Lo ! I see white bubbles spring : — 
 
 Well ! — the molten masses flow. 
 Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling, 
 
 Quick'ning the fusion deep below. 
 Yet from scoria clear and free 
 Must the liquid mixture be, 
 That from the metal, clean and clear, 
 Its sound swell tuneful on the ear. 
 
 Hark! 'tis the birth-day's festive ringing! 
 
 It welcomes the beloved child, 
 Who now life's earliest way beginning, 
 
 In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild. 
 q 2 
 
228 THE LAY 
 
 As yet in time's dark lap repose, 
 Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes, 
 While tenderest cares of mothers born 
 Watch o'er her infant's golden morn. 
 The years like winged arrows fly : 
 
 The stripling from the female hand 
 Bursts into life all wild to roam ; 
 
 And wandering far o'er sea and land, 
 Returns a stranger home. 
 There, in her bloom divinely fair, 
 
 An image beaming from the sky, 
 With blushing cheek and modest air 
 
 A virgin charms his eye. 
 A nameless longing melts his heart, 
 
 Far from his comrades' revels rude, 
 While tears involuntary start, 
 
 He strays in pathless solitude, — 
 Then, blushing, seeks alone her trace; 
 
 And if a smile his suit approve, 
 He seeks the prime of all the place, 
 
 The fairest flower to deck his love. — 
 Enchanting hope ! thou sweet desire ! 
 
 Thou earliest love ! thou golden time ! 
 Heav'n opens to thy glance of fire, 
 
 The heart o'erflows with bliss sublime. 
 
 
OF THE BELL. 229 
 
 Oh that it might eternal prove 
 The vernal bloom of youthful love ! 
 
 See ! the pipes are browning over ! 
 
 This little rod I inly dip ; 
 If coated there with glassy cover, 
 
 Let not the time of fusion slip. 
 Now, companions ! — briskly move, 
 Now, the happy mixture prove. 
 If each alike, in one design, 
 The brittle and the ductile join. 
 
 For where strength with softness joins, 
 Where force with tenderness combines,. 
 
 Firm the union, sweet the song. 
 Thus, ere thou wed no more to part, 
 Prove first if heart unite with heart : 
 
 The dream is brief, repentance long. 
 Sweet, 'mid the tresses of the bride, 
 
 Blooms the virgin coronal, 
 When merry bells ring far and wide 
 
 Kind welcome to the festival. 
 Ah, that life's fairest festive day 
 Fades with the blossom of our May ! 
 That when the veil and cestus fall, 
 The sweet illusions vanish, all! — 
 
230 THE LAY 
 
 The passion, — it flies, 
 
 The love must endure : 
 The blossom, — it dies, 
 The fruit must mature. 
 Forth the husband must wend 
 To the combat of life ; 
 Plunge in turmoil and strife : 
 Must plant, and must plan ; 
 Gain, get as he can : 
 Hazard all, all importune 
 To woo and win fortune. 
 Then streams, like a spring-flood, his wealth without 
 
 measure, 
 And his granaries groan with the weight of their 
 
 treasure ; 
 And his farm-yards increase, and his mansion ex- 
 pands. 
 
 Now the housewife within 
 Her course must begin ; 
 Nurse, mother, and wife 
 Share the troubles of life ; 
 Discreetly severe 
 Rule all in her sphere ; 
 Give each maiden employ, 
 Watch each troublesome boy. 
 
OF THE BELL. 231 
 
 With orderly care, 
 Keep all in repair ; 
 And store without ceasing 
 Her riches increasing : 
 
 Fill her sweet-scented coffers; and, restlessly twirl- 
 ing' 
 
 Set each spindle a spinning, each wheel ever whirl- 
 ing! 
 
 And in smooth polish'd wardrobes range row above 
 row, 
 
 Her woollen all radiant, her linen all snow ; 
 
 And trim them, and pranck them, and fashion them 
 ever, 
 
 And rest— never. — 
 
 The father now, with deep delight, 
 From his proud seat's wide seeing roof, 
 Sums up the wealth that feasts his sight; 
 The branching columns that support 
 The loaded barns rang'd round the court; 
 Granaries, that with corn o'erflow, 
 And harvests billowing to and fro : 
 And deems, fond man! that, propt on gain, 
 Like pillars that the globe sustain, 
 His house in glory shall withstand 
 Misfortune's rough and ruthless hand. 
 
232 THE LAY 
 
 But — none — no mortal can detain 
 Fate in adamantine chain. 
 Mischance with hurried foot advances. 
 
 'Tis time. — Now, now begin the fusion : 
 The crevice now yields promise fair. 
 Yet, pause — nor hasten the conclusion, 
 
 Till heaven has heard our pious pray'r. 
 Haste,— now push the stopper out, 
 Saints ! now watch the house about. 
 Smoking in the handle's bow, 
 Shoot the waves that darkly glow. 
 
 Beneficent the fire, whose flame 
 
 The pow'r of man can watch and tame ; 
 
 When all, whate'er he forms and makes, 
 
 From heav'n's kind gift perfection takes. 
 
 But terrible this gift of heav'n, 
 
 When bursting forth, its fetters riv'n, 
 
 This free-born child of nature free 
 
 Issues in random liberty. 
 
 Woe — woe — when loose, without controul, 
 
 Gathering fresh force to feed their ire, 
 On thro' the populous cities roll 
 
 Sheeted flames of living fire ! 
 
OF THE BELL. j.j.j 
 
 The elements, unpi tying, hate 
 Whate'er the hands of man create. 
 
 From the clouds 
 
 B'essinrs £ow 
 
 Rain streams below ; 
 
 From the clouds, 
 
 Here and there. 
 
 Lightnings glare. 
 Heard you yon turret moan from high ? 
 
 Storm is nigh, 
 
 Bed as blood 
 
 The heav'ns sufrusion ; 
 Tis not daylight's glowing flood. 
 hat confusion! 
 
 Clouds of sm : k e 
 
 The dark streets choke : 
 Flaring mounts up higher and higher, 
 Through lengthen'd streets, the pillar'd fire, 
 Borne before the wild wind's ire. 
 T;:e name as from a furnace streams 
 
 a the ether, crack the beams ; 
 Mothers wandering, children moaning, 
 Cattle under ruins groaning, 
 Windows clattering, pillars crushing, 
 All for safety wildly rushing, 
 
234 THE LAY 
 
 This way, that way, twisting, turning, 
 Midnight like the noon-day burning, 
 Hand to hand, a lengthen'd chain, 
 How they strain ! 
 
 Fly the buckets ; flood and fountain 
 Burst in liquid arches mounting ; 
 The howling tempest on its course 
 Gives to the flames resistless force : 
 The fire-flood through each granary streams, 
 And blazes o'er the rafter'd beams ; 
 And, as if the self-same hour 
 Would earth and all its growth devour, 
 To heav'n it rears its tow'ring flight, 
 Giant high ! 
 Hopelessly 
 Beneath its godlike strength man bows the head 
 
 And, as his treasures sink and sunder, 
 Beholds the ruins round him spread 
 In idle wonder — 
 
 Consum'd by flame, 
 
 One waste the place ; 
 Nought but the storm there leaves a trace. 
 In the wide casement's vacancy 
 
 Dire horrors brood ; 
 And clouds that sweep aloft the sky 
 
 Look on its solitude. 
 
OF THE BELL. 235 
 
 One look — one last — 
 
 On that earth-womb : 
 
 His treasure's tomb : 
 One lingering look — 'tis o'er — tis past — 
 
 He grasps his staff — the world has room — 
 The raging flame not all has reft 
 One heartfelt solace yet is left ; 
 He numbers those belov'd the most, — 
 Of those, so lov'd, not one is lost. 
 
 All prosp'rous seems beneath the earth, 
 
 Full and kindly fill'd the mould : 
 But will the day that views its birth, 
 
 What crowns our toil and art behold ? 
 If the fusion haply fail ! — 
 If at last the mould prove frail ! — 
 Ah ! while Hope's bright sunbeams glow, 
 Fate has already wrought the woe ! 
 
 To the dark lap of holy earth 
 We trust the unaccomplish'd deed : 
 The sower fearless trusts his seed, 
 
 In hope to gather in the birth 
 At the blest time by heav'n decreed. 
 And far more precious seed concealing, 
 We mournful hide in earth's dark womb, 
 
236 THE LAY 
 
 In hope that God, the grave unsealing, 
 Revive it, grac'd with brighter bloom. 
 
 From the dome, 
 
 Sad and slow, 
 
 Tolls the Bell, 
 
 The song of woe ; — 
 Its sad, its solemn strokes attend 
 A wanderer to his journey's end. 
 
 Ah ! 'tis the dear one — 'tis the wife ! 
 'Tis the belov'd, the loving mother ! 
 Who by the prince of darkness borne, 
 From her fond husband's arms is torn, — 
 Torn from each tender child away 
 She bore him in her bloom of day, — 
 Those who had grown upon her breast, 
 By love — a mother's love — carest. 
 Ah ! the household's gentle band 
 
 Is loos'd for ever — evermore ; 
 She dwells within the shadowy land 
 
 Whose fondness hung that household o'er. 
 Now ceas'd her zealous occupation, 
 
 None her kindness more shall prove ; 
 O'er that wide waste, that orphan station, 
 
 A stranger rules devoid of love. 
 
OF THE BELL. 237 
 
 While the Bell is cooling, rest, 
 
 Rest, from toil and trouble free ; 
 Each, as fits his fancy best, 
 Sport like bird at liberty. 
 If but peep a star in air, 
 The man devoid of troublous care 
 At vesper chime from labour ceases : 
 No hour the master's care releases. 
 
 Quickly with unwearied paces 
 
 The wanderer in wild woods afar 
 Seeks his household roof's embraces ; 
 Bleating, homeward draw the sheep : 
 Herds and cows, 
 Sleek their hides, and broad their brows, 
 
 Come back lowing, 
 Each his wonted manger knowing. 
 Charg'd with grain 
 In rocks the wain, 
 Harvest laden : 
 With gay leaves, 
 On the sheaves, 
 Garlands lie ; 
 While to the dance the youthful mowers 
 Briskly fly. 
 Street and market hush their speaking; 
 
238 THE LAY 
 
 The householders, when day decays, 
 Gather round their blissful blaze ; 
 
 And the town-gate closes creaking. 
 Earth with clouds is darken'd over ; 
 Yet underneath his roof's safe cover, 
 The peaceful burgher dreads not night, 
 Which wakes the wicked with affright, 
 While Law's keen eye ne'er rests its sight. 
 
 Holy Order ! rich in blessing ; 
 Heavenly daughter! whose caressing 
 To social bonds free man endears : 
 Thou whose base the city rears ; 
 Thou, who from the wild and wood 
 Call'd'st the unsocial savage brood, 
 To roofs that bind the household tie, 
 And sooth the soul with courtesy ! 
 Hail, Thou that weav'st the dearest band, 
 The union of a Father-land ! 
 
 A thousand busy hands in motion 
 
 Each to each its aid imparts, 
 And in brotherly devotion 
 
 Adds strength and grace to all the arts. 
 Man and master in their station, 
 
 In Freedom's holy safeguard rest ; 
 
OF THE BELL. 239 
 
 And in joyful occupation 
 
 Laugh to scorn the scorner's jest. 
 Work! — 'tis the burgher's exaltation, — 
 
 A blessing rests on labour's head : 
 Honour the king who rules the nation, 
 
 Honour the hand that earns its bread. 
 
 Holy Peace! r '* 
 
 Concord sweet ! 
 
 Remain, remain: 
 O'er this region kindly reign. 
 Never may that day arise 
 When war's rough plund'rers shall assail, 
 And violate this peaceful vale ! 
 Never may those lovely skies, 
 Which roseate eve's soft colours faint 
 
 Lovelily paint, 
 View on the blissful village roof 
 The battle beacon flame aloof! 
 
 Break me the mould : its due employment 
 Now done, no more its aid we need. 
 
 Let heart and eye in full enjoyment, 
 On the well-form'd image feed. 
 
 Swing, the heavy hammers swing, 
 Till the cover duly spring. 
 
240 THE LAY 
 
 When the earth the bell releases, 
 
 The mould may split in thousand pieces. 
 
 The master breaks the mould in pieces, 
 
 And timely frees the precious charge ; 
 But woe — if, as the flame increases, 
 
 The glowing metal stream at large. 
 Blind-raging with the roar of thunder, 
 
 Forth from its riv'n cell it rushes ; 
 And, as from hell-jaws burst asunder, 
 
 Destruction with the fire-flood gushes. 
 
 Where senseless force misrules at pleasure, 
 No form comes forth in rule and measure — 
 
 When nations burst the social band, 
 
 111 fares it with the ravag'd land. 
 Ah ! woe ! when in the city's slumber, 
 
 By stealth a spark of fire gains force ; 
 Woe ! when the mob's unfetter'd number 
 
 Finds in itself its sole resource. 
 Then — Uproar, to the bell ropes springing, 
 
 Spreads far and wide the dread alarm ; 
 And where Peace hail'd its joyful ringing, 
 
 Its signal bids the city arm. 
 
OF THE BELL. 241 
 
 " Freedom! Equality!" — all crying, 
 
 The burgher arms for his defence ; 
 Through streets, through halls, this, that way 
 flying, 
 
 Fell murder's bands their work commence. 
 Wild women, like hyaenas darting, 
 
 Laughs mixed with groans, strange dread im- 
 part; 
 While thrills the nerve, while blood is starting, 
 
 The woman rends the quivering heart. 
 
 No sanctity the bosom shielding, 
 
 No decency, restraint, or shame, 
 The wicked, as the good are yielding, 
 
 To crime impunity proclaim. 
 
 'Tis dire to rouse a lion sleeping, 
 
 Terrific is the tiger's jaw, 
 But there's a woe surpasses weeping, — 
 
 'Tis savage man let loose from law : 
 Woe! — who to him, the blind the cruel, 
 
 Lends the blest gift from heav'n brought down- 
 It lights him not, but fires the fuel 
 
 That turns to ashes land and town. 
 
242 THE LAY 
 
 Joy! joy to me, kind heav'n has giv'n; 
 
 Lo! like a star of golden birth, 
 The metal polish'd, smooth, and even, 
 
 Comes from its coverture of earth. 
 Lo! around its beauteous crown 
 Radiance, sunlike radiance thrown, 
 And the coat of arms' gay burnish, 
 New honour to my skill shall furnish. 
 
 Come all ! come all ! 
 Close your ranks, in order settle : 
 Baptize we now the hallow'd metal ; 
 
 " Concordia!" — Such her name we call. 
 To harmony, to heartfelt union, 
 It gathers in the blest communion. 
 Be this henceforward its vocation; 
 For this I watch'd o'er its creation, 
 That while our life goes lowly under, 
 
 The Bell, 'mid yon blue heav n's expansion, 
 Should soar, the neighbour of the thunder, 
 
 And border on the starry mansion. 
 Its voice from yon aerial height 
 
 Shall seem the music of the sphere, 
 That rolling lauds its Maker's might, 
 
 And leads along the crowned year: 
 
 i 
 
OF THE BELL. 243 
 
 To solemn and eternal things 
 
 Alone shall consecrate its chime, 
 And hourly, as it swiftly swings, 
 
 O'ertake the flying wing of time : 
 Shall lend to Fate its iron tongue, 
 
 Heartless itself, nor form'd to feel, 
 Shall follow, life's mixed scenes among, 
 
 Each turn of Fortune's fickle wheel. 
 And, as its echo on the gale 
 
 Dies off, though long and loud the tone, 
 Shall teach that all on earth shall fail, 
 
 All pass away — save God alone. 
 Now, with the rope's unweary'd might, 
 
 From its dark womb weigh up the Bell, 
 That it may gain th' aerial height, 
 
 And in the realm of Echo dwell. 
 Draw! firmly draw! — it swings, it swings, 
 Hark ! hark ! again, it rings, it rings. 
 Joy to this town, be heard around ! 
 Peace unto all, the Bell's first sound! 
 
 u2 
 
( 244 ) 
 
 JOB, CHAP. XXVIIL 
 
 There's a path to the fowl, as it flieth, ne'er shown, 
 
 Unseen by the vulture's keen eye, 
 By the whelps of the lion, untrodden, unknown, 
 
 Nor the fierce lion passeth it by: 
 
 There's an arm on the cliff, on the ice-crested brow, 
 By the roots that o'er-turneth the mountains, 
 
 And cutteth the rocks where the fresh springs shall 
 flow, 
 And bindeth the floods in their fountains. 
 
 But where is the path, where shall Wisdom be found, 
 And where, Understanding! thy way? — 
 
 Not the land of the living inherits that ground, 
 No price can its value repay. 
 
 A voice of the Earth saith " it is not in me :" 
 " Not in me," saith a voice of the Deep. 
 
 Not mines roof'd with gold can its purchase price be, 
 Nor caves where the silver ores sleep. 
 
JOB, CHAP. XXVIII. 245 
 
 Not the onyx, its price, nor the pearl-seeded main, 
 
 Of the coral no mention be made : 
 Nor thy topaz, oh iEthiop, that gift can obtain, 
 
 Nor a crown with bright rubies array 'd. 
 
 Whence then cometh Wisdom? her dwelling pro- 
 claim : 
 
 Thy place, Understanding ! say, where ? 
 Destruction and Death say " we heard of its fame, 
 
 " But cannot its secret declare." 
 
 But — God understandeth, oh Wisdom ! thy birth : 
 God knoweth the man to whom giv'n : 
 
 For he looketh at once to the ends of the earth, 
 And seeth the whole under heav'n : 
 
 Thence He maketh a weight for the winds as they 
 sweep, 
 
 Thence weighed the waters by measure, 
 When He made a decree that controuleth the deep, 
 
 And stampt on the thunder his pleasure. 
 
 Then He search'd it, and saw it, and utter'd the 
 word, 
 
 To man his high precept commanding : 
 " Behold that is Wisdom, the fear of the Lord, 
 
 " And from evil to fly, Understanding." 
 
EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM A MANUSCRIPT POEM 
 
 ON 
 
 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Many years have passed since I collected, and had 
 arranged, the materials for an Anti-Lucretian Poem — 
 " On God, on Nature, and on Man." — Subsequent 
 reflection convinced me of the unpopularity of the 
 subject. The entire plan was therefore laid aside : 
 and from the part entitled Nature, comprising, 
 chiefly, the Four Elements, the following Extracts 
 are selected. 
 
( 251 ) 
 
 FIRE. 
 LIGHT— THE SUN. 
 
 *F ^ $fc <fc vfc 'K "H*" 
 
 * * * $ * * * 
 
 3i& 4fe 4& j& '& *& « 4ft 
 
 Earth! rejoice! 
 Lo ! from the Orient, led by yon lone star, 
 Bright harbinger of day, exultant Morn 
 Comes forth, and waves her roseate wings, and 
 
 spreads 
 Their light upon the mountains. Upward spring 
 From darkness, and the solitude of night, 
 The green woods, and blue main, and golden sky, 
 Radiant as new created : each high hill 
 Smokes, and the mountains purpled by the beam, 
 Waft, as from censers streaming wide, wreath'd 
 
 clouds, 
 
252 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 That melt in brightness, as the sun, on course, 
 Pours down prolific fires. 
 
 Oh, Earth ! shout forth 
 Thy gladness ! ye rejoice ! each in its realm, 
 All creatures of all kind ! On loftiest Alp, 
 The eagle in his aery ! Ye, below, 
 Sweet-voic'd, that charm the woodlands ; or, far off 
 On cliffs, where never spring put forth a leaf, 
 Haunt the bleak rock, or mingling with the tide 
 Harsh notes, upon the billow, as it rolls, 
 Find resting. — Race untam'd ! whose fleet foot prints 
 Its speed in sandy wastes : and ye, who make 
 Your lair the tangled brake, by rush of flood 
 Couchant on watch ; and thou, whose roaring quest 
 Troubles the silent midnight : — Herds! that browse, 
 Fearful, the branch in forest glades ! and ye, 
 In mead, or upland, that recumbent crop 
 In peace Spring's purple flow'ret ! ye, on earth 
 Which creep, and ye, gay swarms on glittering wing, 
 That float along the noon-beam ! and thou, last, 
 Scarce less than angel ! thou, divinely crown'd 
 With glory, Man, o'er all below supreme, 
 In image of thy Maker, bearing rule, 
 Lift up the hymn of gratulation ! — 
 
LIGHT— THE SUN. 253 
 
 " Hail, 
 
 " Creator ! day by day, th' illumin'd world 
 
 " Drinks of yon orb existence : each green herb 
 
 " Lifts to the light its strength: each flexile shoot 
 
 " Bends sunward : and its living lustre gives 
 
 " Rich odours to each fragrant plant, and paints 
 
 " All nature : hill and dale, and flow'ry mead, 
 
 " Each bud that gems the spring, each leaf that gilds 
 
 " Th' autumnal wood. Above, heav'n's glist'ning 
 
 arch 
 " Beams back its rays : below, the diamond drinks 
 " Its brightness : and the many-colour'd hues 
 " Harmonious, gliding down the glossy neck 
 " Of the eye-spangled bird ; or what breaks off 
 " In sparkles from 'the rippling brook, or blaze 
 " Of summer ocean : and, beneath its beam, 
 " The vital spirit of creation, spreads 
 " And kindles into birth ; and all around 
 
 " 'Tis redolence, 'tis beauty, youth, and joy." 
 
 ******* 
 
 $fc vfc •Si* ?fc ■St? "5JC •sje 
 
 Nor less thy genial effluence, Orb of Day, 
 Makes pure the tainted ether. — Thou, oh, Sun ! 
 Pour'st from thy fount the golden flood, and filFst 
 With life and light th' aerial dome, whose arch 
 
254 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 O'ercanopies the globe : and all the waves 
 In motion, thro' the world of waters, heave 
 Beneath thy amplitude. And lo ! forthwith 
 From every river, fount, and fuming lake, 
 And billows of the multitudinous deep, 
 Pure airs, exhaustless, on gray mist and cloud 
 Float, and in surge ethereal meet the morn 
 Upborne. And lo ! on earth, each grassy blade, 
 Mantle of nature, and each herb and flov/r, 
 Shrub, and thick grove, and woodland wilderness, 
 All that beneath the shroud of darkness, pour'd 
 Ungenial airs, with balmy breath salute 
 The day ; and to the sunbeam render up 
 The spirit of delight, and health, and life, 
 
 In quivering undulations. 
 
 ******* 
 
 ******* 
 
 Go, then, oh Man! and tame the ground: thy 
 doom : 
 Forgetful not, that o'er thy toil, yon orb 
 Holds ceaseless charge. For thee the Sun leads on 
 The Seasons : each, in grateful change, ordain'd 
 For kindest ministration. Winter cleaves 
 The congregated clouds, and downward pours 
 Large floods beneficent : or, spreading wide 
 
LIGHT— THE SUN. 255 
 
 O'er the bleak North his snowy mantle, views 
 
 The fresh blade sprout beneath, and fruits, whereon 
 
 The wand'ring rein-deer browses, Spring, for thee 
 
 Comes jubilant : the free rill flows, and flow'rs 
 
 Wake at her carol : and her playful train 
 
 Young Zephyrus, and May, that trips in dew, 
 
 On the green thorn fair garlands hang, and paint 
 
 Each purple bud, robing in gay attire 
 
 The promise of the year : the air mean- while 
 
 Wafts fragrance, and from bush and bow'r the bird 
 
 Trills ceaseless melody, and all that live 
 
 In very life have joyance. Next, beneath 
 
 Blue heav'n, her bright cheek flush'd with fervent 
 
 noon, 
 Proud Summer o'er the bristling champain spreads 
 Its golden garniture ; and where the bud 
 Fresh bloom'd, with mellowing sun-beams swells the 
 
 fruit 
 Luxuriant. Lastly, gathering up the year 
 W T ith shout, and song, and rustic revelry, 
 Autumn his brow with nodding wheat-sheaf wreathes, 
 Whence the full seed-grain falls : nor song, nor 
 
 shouts 
 Cease, while his foot, crushing the vintage, drains 
 Its purple flood. — Go, then, and tame the ground, 
 Thy sentence. 
 
256 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Thus they went, whose foot first trod 
 This earth : how chang'd of that, which Love divine 
 Adorn'd, when Wisdom hallow'd its own work ! 
 Sin enter'd, and despoil'd the bow'rs of bliss : 
 Death triumph'd, and the gates on Eden clos'd 
 For ever. — Ah, I see them, as they pass 
 In speechless anguish : him, the Sire of Man, 
 And Eve, our general Mother. Slow they bend 
 From Paradise, nor cast one look behind, 
 Lest worse befall: — if worse! — for under foot, 
 Fit entrance to the vale of tears/ rank thorns 
 Shot, intermingled, and th' unfruitful growth 
 Of thistles bristling upward. Over head 
 Thick clouds and darkness : and the tempest low'r'd, 
 And the rain beat, and floods were heard to rush 
 Terrific. Oh for them, who ne'er had seen 
 Cloud other, than the veil, through which the Sun 
 Gleam'd soften'd, or gray Twilight, bringing on 
 Cool shadowy rest : and never had they felt 
 Show'r, save the mist, which duly from the earth 
 Went up, and water'd all : nor ruder sound 
 Heard, than the flow of fountain, or light play 
 Of leaf, whose murmur lull'd them to repose 
 Within their nuptial arbor. Oh, for them ! 
 So, on they went : he first, to smooth a path 
 For Eve, who faintly follow'd. And the day 
 
LIGHT— THE SUN. 257 
 
 Was drawing to its close, and sore fatigue 
 Came, company'd by famine. Then, our Sire 
 Felt the dire burden of his crime : and loud 
 His groan burst forth : not thus meek Eve ; no sigh, 
 No murmur spake her anguish, as, o'ercome, 
 She sank on Adam's breast. — View them, sole Pair, 
 The husband wipes away the drops of death 
 That stand on her chill brow. And lo ! the clouds 
 Disparting, and the mists in gather'd wreaths 
 Bear their dark burden off. The rain is ceas'd, 
 The wind is lull'd, and full the sun-beam falls 
 On Eve, beneath whose genial warmth her pulse 
 Leaps jocund, and the rose relumes her cheek : 
 Not vainly : for, before them, in near view, 
 Fair-opening amid fence of mountains, bloom'd 
 A garden wilderness : a beauteous spot 
 Selected. — Far around the wild waste low'r'd. — 
 A little spot, which he who in his wrath 
 Remembers mercy, had afore prepar'd 
 Their dwelling. Then fair Hope reviv'd, when first 
 On this, their exile seat, the Sun, unveil'd, 
 Shone out; and earth, a second Eden, bloom'd 
 Beneath them : — Adam, then, stedfast of faith, 
 Mus'd on the promis'd seed, in awful trance 
 Prophetic. But thou, Eve, with sprightlier sense 
 
2.58 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Of pleasure : — -" Here, too, Peace resides : here, too, 
 " Heav'n opes its arch of azure, and these woods 
 " Wave verdure. Here, on blooming sprays, gay 
 
 " birds 
 " Greet us with welcome song, and trick in the beam 
 " Their painted plumes. And lo! fair flocks and 
 
 " herds, 
 " From underneath thick shades, that fenc'd the 
 
 " storm, 
 " Move harmless, pasturing the green blade, their 
 
 " young 
 " Frisking around. Hail, too, ye fruits ! whereon 
 " The golden sun looks ripening. Hail, gay flow'rs, 
 " That, shaking off the dew, rise on your stalks 
 " Exultant I Thou, too, dwell'st in this thy world, 
 " Father of Mercy!"— 
 
 And, when now the sun 
 With ampler orb hung on the mountain heights, 
 And now, ere set, wheel'd slowly thro' the pomp 
 That grac'd its going down, rich retinue 
 Of clouds accompaning, whose canopy 
 Emblazon'd the broad firmament above, 
 With gold, with purple, and with roseate gleams 
 Gorgeously rob'd : " Scarce glorious more (she cried) 
 
LIGHT— THE SUN. 259 
 
 " Thy lustre : scarce more beauteous Eden bow'rs 
 
 " Glisten'd beneath the majesty of heav'n 
 
 " Descending, when on wing the Seraphim 
 
 " And Cherubs came attendant, as God deign'd 
 
 " To walk on earth with Adam." So the day 
 
 Clos'd, and their voice went grateful up to heav'n. 
 
260 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 FIRE. 
 
 Caloric — Fire — the great instrument of civilisation, and of Man's 
 supremacy over inanimate and animated Nature. — The origin 
 and progress of the Arts. 
 
 Thus far of Light first-form'd, and thy pure beam, 
 
 Regent of Day ! — To other pow'rs I turn 
 
 My numbers : thine, fix'd Element of Heat ! 
 
 In ministration of unbounded sway, 
 
 Servant of heav'n. Dost thou not, Spirit unseen ! 
 
 Lift up th' aerial canopy, and hold 
 
 Apart each atom in the boundless bed 
 
 Of ocean, leaving free the billowy flood, 
 
 To wind its mutability of wave 
 
 In ceaseless flow ? Thro' earth's wide realms thou 
 
 dwell'st 
 Subservient : else thy rage had burst the chain 
 Wherewith the omnipotent arm binds down thy 
 
 strength 
 Resistless. Oh, how oft, as one on watch, 
 In ambush, from still bondage, under earth, 
 
FIRE. 261 
 
 Some cave, on whose unpillar'd emptiness 
 
 The city fix'd its greatness, thou hast heard 
 
 The voice of vengeance, and array 'd in flame, 
 
 Like an exterminating angel, swept, 
 
 Wasting the wide Creation ! — And thou cam'st 
 
 With uproar, and fierce onset, winds and waves 
 
 Contending. Ask of them, the delug'd race 
 
 Swept off at lost Messina. On their brow 
 
 The sun, at morn, shone beauteous, and long life 
 
 Danc'd in their day-dreams — ask of those, whose 
 
 bones 
 'Mid fanes, and marble palaces, in dust, 
 Moulder, a nameless heap, unsepulchred, 
 Still wept of Lisbon. — Ah ! not yet has ceas'd 
 Their deep lament, who, when the faithless ground 
 Toss'd, like the billowy main, rock'd on the edge 
 Of yon precipitous chasm, and, wild with fear, 
 Fled at the death-cry, heard beneath, when earth 
 Clave, and clos'd o'er the nation.— There, yet roams 
 The maniac, and, with age and woe bow'd down, 
 Duly, the year gone by, casts on that heap 
 Her silver hair, and in strange murmurs wild, 
 Calls on her perish'd babe, and greets her lord : 
 All hopeless, as her cry comes echo'd back, 
 Sole response. And anon, the fix'd mount seems 
 
262 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 To heave and roll beneath her, and pale shapes, 
 Deform'd, float ghastly round. 
 
 Oh, ye ! who muse 
 Where tow'r and temple fell ; and they, the race, 
 Sunk as one man, recall to mind that voice 
 Which spake of those at Siloim ! — All have sinn'd: 
 Yea, and this earth must bear the chastisement, 
 Fore-doom'd for man's offence. Ah beauteous 
 
 world ! 
 Ye, high hills, and wide forests! ye, proud rocks! 
 That bear the burden up ; streams, and still lakes 
 So passing fair ; ye all, and yon vast Deep, 
 Shall, like a scroll before the furnace heat, 
 Smoke, and no more be seen: and thou, oh, Flame! 
 Borne on the tempest's thundering pennons, pass 
 Lone o'er Creation's void. — Till then, repose, 
 And fill thy gentler office, and sustain 
 All nature ! Ne'er be seen in upper air 
 Lights, fiercer than the gleams that paint the clouds 
 At morn, or eve: or those, that round the Pole, 
 Changeful of hue, immix in aery dance, 
 Not without voice of lambent flame, and now 
 Cease, fanciful : or sport upon the wing 
 Of summer lightnings, that elicit down 
 Kind drops, and fill the lap of earth with flow'rs. 
 
FIRE. 263 
 
 Play ye in painted clouds ! far other fire 
 Rests ministranton earth. Came not the flame 
 From heav'n? and mark'd th' acceptance of his God, 
 What time, himself the criminal, Man bow'd 
 His forehead to the dust, and wet with tears 
 The ground, repentant, when his falt'ring hand 
 First smote the blameless sacrifice, and laid 
 On th' unhewn stone. So will'd the voice divine, 
 In token of offence, and death deserv'd, 
 His doom forewarn'd : nor less, mysterious type 
 Of thee, oh, Son of God! whose offer'd blood 
 Flow'd, price of our redemption. Thus, the flame 
 Came down ; and Man went forth, not without God, 
 To tame and till the earth. 
 
 Hence, various arts : 
 Whate'er (so Fables sing) Prometheus first 
 Taught rude mankind, when, guest of highest Jove, 
 The dauntless Titan from the sun purloin'd 
 Forbidden flames, and earth's dark race illum'd. 
 
 Far otherwise my song, that tracts his course, 
 The bold adventurer, from life's cultur'd realms, 
 Who, bent on far discoveries, steers his bark 
 'Mid untried oceans. Such, as oft thy prow, 
 From pole to pole lone traversing the globe, 
 
264 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Explor'd: heroic Chief! 
 
 Whose memory, and last remains, rever'd 
 
 As one scarce mortal, consecrate the isle 
 
 Where thy long course of toil and glory clos'd ; 
 
 And ruthless men, whose weapons drank thy blood, 
 
 Wept, as they knelt around thy hallow'd corse, 
 
 Proud Albion's boast, brave Cook! 
 
 So trace in thought 
 The voyager. His tempest-wearied sails 
 Rest, as the anchor bites an unknown coast. 
 His light skiff rides the surge, and forth he leaps, 
 Lone, on the rocky sea-beach. High in air 
 His torch, long beck'ning, flames : and lo ! far off, 
 With faltering step, and wild eye turn'd askance, 
 One from the thick shade ventures, where he wont 
 With beasts to make his lair : or, couch'd beneath 
 Dark caverns, start at the tremendous roar 
 Of ocean, hurling its vex'd flood, by night, 
 Against the storm-rent promontory. Forth 
 He comes, a naked creature, comfortless ; 
 His lip, and the dark tangles of his beard, 
 Stain'd with fresh blood, warm from the living prey 
 That battled long for mastery. — " Draw near! 
 " (The Stranger calls) break off the feast of blood. 
 " Satiate no more fell appetite, 'mid cries 
 
FIRE. 265 
 
 " Of quivering agony! So feel, oh, Man! 
 " Thy nature, temper' d with celestial touch 
 " Of pity, and soft sense of woe not thine." 
 
 He speaks : the wild man listens, and his heart 
 Thrills, opening to humanity. — Again 
 Th' Instructor speaks benign, as once the voice 
 That spake to our first sire : " Thou, sole on earth, 
 " Sole kind endow'd with reason! thine alone 
 " This Element; the air, the earth, the flood, 
 " Free boon alike to all: thou, Lord of Fire! 
 " Go, sov'reign 'mid creation, and bear rule 
 " Resistless. — Each, within his realm, subdue, 
 " The beast and bird, and those that in their rage 
 " Tempest the deep. — But not for this alone, 
 " To lord it o'er the brute, hold under rule 
 " At will the fiery element. Look o'er 
 " Yon desert, the dark wilderness." — Around 
 The savage stilly gazes. Dreary, all, 
 Wild as th' immense savannahs, whose dank waste 
 Struck horror on the hapless exile, doom'd 
 To tame the new-found world. Between the range 
 Of distant mountains, on whose summit slept 
 Th' eternal snows, a mighty champain spread 
 On all sides its low level. Giant woods 
 
266 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 There once claim'd space and flourish'd ; and the 
 
 storms 
 Of Winter, from their pride had shatter'd down 
 Th' exuberant growth, and Spring, as oft, renew'd, 
 Thro' untold generations. Lifeless lay 
 On earth's dank bed their cumbrous bulk, and stay'd 
 The floods, that labouring down their channels, 
 
 work'd 
 Toilsome their way obscure, upheaving slow 
 The soil with all its roots : while bristling round 
 Its borders, proudly rose in perplex'd fence, 
 Impassable, rank thickets that immix'd 
 Thorns, and huge spikes, and canes whose rattling 
 
 stems 
 Tow Yd, each a warrior's lance : and all throughout, 
 In intertwining growth exuberant, 
 Glow'd clusters swoln with venom. In these shades 
 The wild beast litter'd, and sad birds there hung 
 Their nests, and thick along the ooze huge snakes 
 Trail' d on their folds voluminous, and 'mid these, 
 Fierce eagles gorging the fang'd prey, coil'd round 
 Their beak in battle. And the troubled air 
 Rung with thick swarms, that, borne on whizzing 
 
 wing, 
 Stream'd up like exhalations into birth, 
 
FIRE. 367 
 
 And dimm'd the noon-beam. " Lo ! (his Guide 
 
 exclaim'd) 
 "Thy realm! — yon wild wood fire — subdue, and 
 
 " reign." 
 
 The Savage waves the torch, and fires the wood : 
 It flames, it roars, and sinks, a silent waste ; 
 And they that tenanted the wilderness, 
 Bird, and wild beast, and serpent fang'd with death, 
 Fly diverse : and the Man stands there, alone, 
 Stands in his strength. 
 
 " Now learn thy pow'r, pursue 
 " The triumph. Nature (hark! 'tis God commands) 
 " Claims of thy race due culture : all, save thine, 
 " All, reckless, on her bosom, whence they draw 
 " Their nurture, idly sleep. Thou, sole, deserve 
 " Her largess. Bid yon mound, that stays the flood, 
 " Give way, and the free current flow, as once, 
 " Prolific : call again the sunbeams down 
 " To look upon the soil, and flow'rs and fruit, 
 " All kind, shall spring luxuriant. Some, uproot, 
 " Some, kindly prune, others, their savage strength 
 " Tam'd gradual into mildness, make unite 
 " In spousal, and engender happiest race. 
 " Nor envy thou the animals ! Along 
 
268 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 " The champain let the courser, in his speed, 
 
 " Challenge the winds : the goat, yon mountains 
 
 " browse, 
 " Give the gay kid to spring from crag to crag, 
 " And balancing his posture, light as air, 
 " Dance on the pointed fore-cliff: give the flock, 
 " Whose silver fleece thy covering shall inweave, 
 " The summer upland, and the shelter'd vale 
 " When winter smites. And when the larger herd 
 " Wind, lowing, down thy pastures, mantled o'er 
 " With trefoil, and the purple bloom lure on 
 " To meadows freshly water'd ; for they come, 
 " Peaceful, heav'n-destin'd, to submit their neck 
 " Of prowess to thy handling, and beneath 
 " An iron yoke, which way the stripling turns, 
 " Bow'd from the rising to the setting sun, 
 " To tame the earth. 'Tis vanquish'd : Plenty 
 
 " bursts 
 " The clod, and guardians of the golden grain, 
 " Fair Order, and right Governance arise. 
 " And hark! the populous hum, and cheerful strife 
 " Of industry, and voice of elders met 
 " In council. — Hail, Religion, and her rites. 
 " Hail, wedded Love, link'd by domestic ties 
 " Endearing, sire and child! — These, all, await 
 <f Thy culture. Haste ! the mighty mother calls, 
 
FIRE. 269 
 
 " Who, not ungrateful, asks but to repay 
 " Ten thousand fold : nor negligent herself 
 " To fit thee for her ministry." — He speaks, 
 And shows, where 'mid the ashes, as they smoke, 
 Flows from rich veins the all-subduing ore, 
 And fashions into use. 
 
 Thus, man to man, 
 Taught by their common sire, transmitted down 
 Heav'n's gracious gift, and cultur'd Arts arose 
 Successive. — Some, from earth, with hand uncouth, 
 Scoop'd the harsh clay, and from the fire brought 
 
 forth 
 Unshapely vessels rude. The potter's wheel 
 Anon knew motion, nor found rest, till skill, 
 Wrought slowly out from want, the sense refin'd 
 Of pleasure, born of beauty : such as charm'd 
 The Tuscan, when th' attemper'd clay resign'd 
 Its patient flexibility of form 
 To the fine fingering of his taste : beneath 
 Whose touch Grace shap'd the vase, and round its 
 
 orb, 
 Imag'd in mystic symbol, the fair form 
 Of Nature faint reclining: o'er whose brow 
 Pow'rs, Spirits of Creation, hung on wing 
 Descendent, and, with torch Promethean, rous'd 
 
270 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 The slumberer into life : or shadowy shapes 
 Fantastic, of the volant pencil born : 
 That, lonely, or in groups, not without pipe 
 And timbrel, loosely cincturd, toss'd on high 
 The thyrsus, and their streaming locks wav'd back 
 In airy dance. 
 
 Some rais'd the tile-fenc'd roof 
 Impervious : and the stormy gust unfelt 
 Died off, and lulling, clos'd the slumberous eye. 
 So rose the sheltering roof : succeeding years 
 Saw taste, and proud embellishment : the porch 
 And portico, and dome that towYd aloft 
 On pillar'd strength. The Doric column, first, 
 Like some gigantic cedar, tempest-shorn, 
 Awful in unadorn'd severity, 
 Rose baseless from earth's solid bed, and prop'd 
 The ponderous mass above. 
 
 So — Hercules 
 Stood, when bow'd Atlas rested. 
 
 Next, arose 
 Th' Ionian, with pure graces chastely adorn'd. 
 The Grecian matron, there, of stately port, 
 Gave to its polish'd shaft the female form, 
 
FIRE. 271 
 
 And delicate proportions. Down the flutes 
 
 Of the long column fell in simple folds, 
 
 ^Yhat seem'd her plaited stole : and from its brow 
 
 The ornamented capital diffus'd 
 
 AVhat seem'd the ringlet that round either cheek 
 
 Wav'd, as the free breeze curl'd it. 
 
 Last, the skill 
 Of Corinth, in its wanton wildness trac'd 
 Th ! acanthus, as the graceful leaf o'erhung 
 The funeral urn, and round her chaptrel twin'd 
 Its gay luxuriance. — Thus th' embellish'd shaft 
 Shot tapering into air, and charm'd the sight, 
 Yirginly shap'd, her likest, in life's prime 
 A bride by Love adorned. Xor wanted these 
 High architrave, or fretted frieze, emboss'd 
 With sculptur'd imag'ry: the pomp of games, 
 Triumphs, and Amazonian wars, and chase 
 Of beasts, or sport of Gods at Hebe feasts 
 With Saturn's race. 
 
 Meantime the sound arose 
 Of men, who, labouring at huge anvils, tax'd 
 Their strength. Now swift the clattering hammers 
 
 rung; 
 Now with slow swing, the sledge, blow after blow, 
 
272 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 In measur'd chime fell regular. So these : 
 And ever as they drew the glowing mass 
 From forth the furnace, show'r of sparkles flew 
 Around. By dint of toil, these taught the share 
 To take its griding curve : those, pointing, shbd 
 The ponderous harrow : some, more artful, edg'd 
 The biting axe, or tooth'd the serried saw. 
 Others, by patient touches, o'er and o'er, 
 Smooth'd temper'd steel, and polish'd for the loom 
 Tools o'er whose play Sidonian virgins rais'd 
 The song that lighten'd labour. 
 
 Other part, 
 Men, in sad gloom, beneath embowell'd earth, 
 Slow min'd : regardless they, on toil intent, 
 Whether the sun, o'er misty mount, or lawn 
 Gemm'd with fresh dew, rose beauteous on mankind, 
 Or moon-beams lit the labourer to repose : 
 Regardless, while they arch'd the sparry roof, 
 And from deep veins the buried ore purloin'd, 
 That, heard above, the unrelenting roar 
 Of ocean, as the rocky fragments roll'd, 
 Burst from the world of waters o'er their brow. 
 
 To each his task. And some went forth, and 
 brought 
 
FIRE. 273 
 
 Weeds of the refluent spring-tide, and loose sand, 
 
 And 'mid the furnace flung : and lo ! a flood 
 
 Pellucid : this, ere yet its current cool'd, 
 
 Art fashion'd into shape : and interpos'd 
 
 Its crystal, calling in the beams of light, 
 
 And gladsome sunshine, while stern winter swept 
 
 Without, unheeded. Hence, 'mid realms unblest, 
 
 Where Tanais freezes as it flows, and earth, 
 
 Lies sepulchred in snow, Art, underneath 
 
 The lucid roof, gay flow'rs and fruits arrays, 
 
 Cull'd from each happier clime : and all their hues 
 
 Calls forth, and all their fragrance. There, methinks, 
 
 As in some central mart (such, Horrnuz, once, 
 
 Now a lone rock) at yearly fair, the throng 
 
 Of traffickers, a princely train, from Nile, 
 
 Tagus and Thames, and isles of th' eastern main, 
 
 From Trebisond, and Teflis, over-land, 
 
 Meet, vying in their merchandise : so these 
 
 In flavour, bloom, and fragrance. There the grape 
 
 Of Schiraz, clust'ring into vintage, views 
 
 The mail'd Anana, and the golden groves 
 
 Of Lusitane. 
 
 Nor fragrant shrub there fails : with some, the Cape 
 Deck'd her gay wilds : some, boast of orient Ind : 
 The jasmine, and nyctanthus, whose rare bloom 
 
274 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 This to the day gives fragrance, that, in turn, 
 To night its odour. Melianthus, there, 
 Bends gracefully; and as it looks on earth, 
 Drops dew of Hybla sweetness. Thou too, last, 
 Delight of tropic islands : rich thy leaf 
 Of glossy verdure, garlanded with pomp 
 Of blossoms, white as snow, that loosely float 
 In clusters, waving fragrance : cool thy walks 
 Thro' dark arcades, where never weed, nor plant 
 Entangles the free foot, nor from without 
 Pierces the noon-tide beam : but ah ! thy charms 
 Are poison'd : for there wanders one, whose eye 
 Rests not on thy snow-blossoms, and whose heart 
 Fever'd with woe, in shade and cool retreat 
 Finds no allay : one, forc'd from Niger's flood. 
 Behold him, faint, at interval of toil 
 Climb up the mountain brow, thence, sea-ward, gaze 
 Which way his country lies, and beat his breast 
 In anguish, as th' interminable waves 
 Roll, sund'ring him for ever from his home. 
 Once, once thou hadst a home, endear'd by those 
 Whose age found rest on thee : endear'd by those 
 Who, smiling, nam'd thee " Father:" doubly endear'd 
 By her, who bore, and at her bosom fed 
 Each proof and pledge of love — Heav'n still thy 
 groan ! 
 
FIRE. 275 
 
 But woe to him who, fettering the free, 
 
 Trafficks in blood ! Crush, Albion ! 'neath thy foot, 
 
 Crush its last link ! — 
 
 Some of the molten mass 
 Fram'd instruments, whose subtle pow'r disclos'd 
 God in his works. Forms long familiar, rose 
 All wond'rous : and the Air, and Earth, and Main, 
 Show'd like new worlds, where swarming myriads 
 
 know 
 Joy in their generation. These detect 
 The many-vision'd orbs, that serve the wants 
 Of reptile, or wing'd life, outnumb'ring those 
 That held dire watch o'er lo : or, behold 
 Where, thro' a thousand mouths, the green leaf 
 
 drinks 
 Th' aerial spirit ; whence the unfolding rose 
 Draws from the sun its hue ; and how, ere ceas'd 
 The harvest shout, another golden year 
 Teems, where the great Creator, provident, 
 Garners the infant Autumn in the grain, 
 And decks with branch and leaf the tree, in bud, 
 Yet patient of a cradle. 
 
 While these trace 
 A God on earth, others behold the heav'ns 
 t 2 
 
27G THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Rob'd in his brightness. The ethereal zones 
 Stretch back their ancient boundary ; and beyond, 
 Realms, whose far gleams from multitudinous fires 
 Flow like a silver ocean, other suns 
 Than thine, Earth's greater Light! and moons, 
 
 whose disc 
 Borrows no radiance to adorn our globe, 
 Come forth : not slowly seen, as those pale stars 
 That, singly, from their dim recesses, steal, 
 Each after each, and on the rear of eve 
 Look like the lone vedettes of some vast march 
 Succeeding orderly : but, all at once, 
 In multiplied magnificence, at once 
 Throughout the firmament, heav'n's gathered host 
 Refulgent, in thick bands, and close array, 
 Planets and suns, and satellites, pour forth 
 Their pomp on the empyrean. These proclaim 
 A God : and ever as they wheel their fires 
 Erratic, in each orb of changeful curve, 
 All, in harmonious maze, surround thy throne,] 
 Omnipotence ! and trace th' eternal paths 
 Thou mad'st ere Light had birth. 
 
 Oh thou, who dwell'st 
 Sole, 'mid infinitude ! whose Word, that form'd, 
 Alone upholds creation, and goes forth 
 
 
FIRE. 277 
 
 Each moment, thro' the amplitude of space, 
 Sole source of life and motion : thou alone 
 Art — ever. — Yon bright stars, each in itself 
 A central sun, and light of other worlds, 
 Each, like this earth, created fair, and form'd 
 And peopled for beatitude : these all, 
 Their ministration done, shall pass away, 
 And all the revolutions of their spheres 
 Cease, as a moment told. — But thou! who art 
 One, yesterday, to-morrow, and to-day, 
 Thou — ever : — and the Spirits of the Just 
 Made perfect by thy Presence ! 
 
( 278 ) 
 
 THE AIR— THE EARTH— THE OCEAN. 
 
 What art thou, viewless Spirit ! whose soft breath 
 
 Floats, whispering, o'er me wooingly, and now, 
 
 Delusive, dies away, as in lone thought, 
 
 Fix'd on my solemn argument, I call 
 
 On Nature, and the Elements that mix 
 
 Their changeful shapes around her state, to hymn 
 
 Thy glory, God Creator ? — On yon plain 
 
 The sun strikes heavy: summer noontide glares 
 
 O'er its unshadow'd sultriness : meantime, 
 
 Under cool umbrage of sequestred groves, 
 
 My native woodlands wild, I wander on 
 
 In pathless solitude, where sight nor sound 
 
 Disturbs me, save at times the shadowy play 
 
 Of leaves, that to the murmur of the wind 
 
 Make melody. 
 
 Sweet minstrel! many-voic'd, 
 Again thy whisper vibrates on the leaf 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 279 
 
 Delightful, coinpanied with rural sounds, 
 The bleat of some lone doe, and trill of bird, 
 Whose echo charms the woodlands. — They have 
 
 ceas'd : 
 But thou, aerial Visitant! thou com'st 
 Most mutable, and other change assum'st, 
 To woo another sense, wafting around 
 My way delicious odours, that exhale 
 From mead new-mown, clover, or thymy bank, 
 Where summer swarms brush from the purple bloom 
 Rich fragrance. Yet, setherial Spirit ! thy pow'r 
 Bears other office, than to charm the sense 
 With rural sound in woodlands wild, lone bleat 
 Of doe, or trill of bird ; or all that breathes 
 Enchantment from touch'd lute, in moonlight glades, 
 When music melts upon the lip of Love. 
 And higher province thine, than to diffuse 
 Fragrance from mead new-mown, clover, or bank, 
 Where summer swarms float on the bloom, and mix 
 The song of murmuring melodies. 
 
 Thou heard'st 
 Of old, the Word omnipotent : "Go forth ! 
 " Go wing'd with life, and round the world, wind 
 
 free 
 " Thy fluid robe translucent : give the flame 
 
280 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 " Its lustre : dye the blood with roseate health : 
 " Unfold the germ of nature : quick'ning, swell 
 " Each buried seed. In unseen strength array'd 
 " Press on the mountain tops, and, ceaseless, wear 
 " Their peel'd and shiver'd foreheads, till the rock 
 " That bore reproach of barrenness, become 
 " A pregnant soil. From earth's o'erloaded lap 
 " Sweep off the rank exuberance : and again 
 " From thy capacious womb, profuse of life, 
 " As from Creation's gather'd stores, supply 
 " Exhausted nature : and diffuse wing'd seeds 
 " O'er sterile solitudes that yet await 
 " Man's culture. Spread the twilight out, and lift 
 " The sun above the orient, and withhold 
 " His orb, suspended o'er the western waves, 
 " Bright with dilated amplitude : and yield, 
 " Yield to each beam untroubled space to pass 
 " From heav'n to earth : and gently interpose 
 " Thy mantle, thro' whose texture, radiant hues 
 " From all above, around, and underneath, 
 " Dart to and fro, and, like sweet voices tun'd, 
 " Meet unconfus'd : so charm the sight with sense 
 " Of lucid harmonies, that richly blend 
 " The golden sun, and the celestial cope 
 (i Cerulean, with the green and glist'ning earth/' 
 
 
AIR-EARTH— OCEAN. 281 
 
 Thou heard'st, and Earth exulted. Man ! survey 
 Thy goodly realm. Oh, World! once hail'd of 
 
 heav'n, 
 Chang'd tho' thy state, and waxing to decay, 
 And under condemnation of thy judge, 
 His glory yet rests on thee. Wherefore else 
 This beauteous theatre ? why proudly tow'r 
 Yon mountains, and their frozen peaks and rocks, 
 Up whose bleak brow the pine-wood climbs, and 
 
 strikes 
 Roots down the icy clefts, and heights whereon 
 The cedar spreads his prodigal arms abroad, 
 Gathering the tempest under : at their base, 
 Glens, down whose fring'd declivities prone floods 
 Rush ceaseless : then, gay interchange of land, 
 Smooth hill, and slope of dale, that kindly rear 
 The olive and the purple grape, and fruits 
 All kind, luxuriant. Champains wide succeed, 
 Rich meads, and golden harvests intersect 
 With populous realms, hamlets, and spreading towns, 
 By flow of rivers, that beneath the yoke 
 Of marble arcs majestic, sea- ward bear 
 The barter of mankind. And lo ! the Main 
 Stretch'd boundless, and the multitude of isles 
 Gay-cluster'd, or lone rocks that beam afar, 
 And high above the tossing of the surge 
 
282 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Lift their green brows, and laugh amid the storm 
 Of ocean, as it roars with all its waves 
 Tempestuous. 
 
 But, how fitly laud in song 
 Thy wonders, World of Waters ? How extoll 
 Thy beauty? Fair art thou, oh, summer Sea! 
 In still repose : and sweet thy crisped smiles, 
 When twilight, slowly fading off, withdraws 
 Its shadow from the water, and unveils 
 The smooth expanse, on whose far bound the sky 
 Rests its blue concave. Yellow daylight then 
 Spreads bright illumination : and the breeze, 
 In ripples on the sparkling billow, meets 
 The morn, where o'er the bosom of the Deep 
 Light vapours wreathe their many-colour'd forms. 
 Meantime, the sun, with orb of gold, half-ris'n, 
 Looks thro' the mist, and on, from wave to wave, 
 Levels the tremulous radiance, lighting up 
 Far off his western goal. Nor lovely less, 
 At still autumnal night-fall, after length 
 Of sultry hours, when the last little cloud 
 That hung o'er the departing day, has lost 
 Its roseate livery : and the last low breath 
 Of wind, that like the chanted vesper rose, 
 Dies off, and dewy coolness greets its close. 
 
AIR— EARTH -OCEAN. 283 
 
 Gray twilight, then, and gradual gloom succeed, 
 Till, fully-orb'd 'mid heav'n's resplendent host, 
 These errant, those at rest, Regent of Night, 
 The moon walks forth in brightness : and each cliff, 
 Hoar tow'r, and wood that boldly breasts the tide, 
 Smile, touch'd with tremulous light, while 'neath 
 
 her disc 
 The heave of ocean, like a silver globe, 
 Swells out dimensionless. Sweet then to pace 
 The shore : and, fancy-free, rekindle dreams 
 Of blissful childhood, and again pursue 
 Far sea-nymphs, in smooth dance, on gleams of light, 
 That o'er the wave like silver shadows glide, 
 Brush'd by the night-air's wing : or, in lone muse 
 Bow'd o'er the stillness of the deep, to dwell 
 On lov'd friends gone, till the sooth'd Spirit taste 
 Of their unearthly quiet. — 
 
 Then, oh, thou ! 
 Sore smitten, prey of woe, or harsh neglect, 
 Or vex'd of worldly turbulence, awhile 
 Retire : and on the low and level sands, 
 When the soft moon-light seems to still the main, 
 List the smooth lapse of ocean. The soft light 
 Shall soothe thee, and the lulling lapse has pow'r 
 To steal thee from thyself. Or, boldly climb 
 
284 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Some headland, when the rising gale rings loud, 
 And as the chaf d sea roars, yield all thy soul 
 To rapture : and allaying troublous thought, 
 In aspirations of the heart, adore 
 Th' Omnipotent. Forsaking thus, far off, 
 The worldly din, I woo lone thoughts that raise 
 The disincumber'd spirit : while 'mid woods, 
 Whose high tops never drank the briny spray, 
 Rapt Fancy, picturing the numbers, pours 
 Far ocean in, and, boldly dashing round 
 The roar of its wild waters, fitlier lauds 
 His might, whose Spirit mov'd upon the Deep. 
 
 And moves it not the Deep ? whether his pow'r, 
 Peaceably ruling without pomp, call up 
 To sunshine, and the breath of upper air, 
 The viewless generations, age on age, 
 That 'neath unfathom'd waves slow-labouring lift 
 Their giant masonry, and gem wide seas 
 With coral isles :— that Man, where'er dispers'd, 
 May find fit rest, and life's link'd chain extend 
 Far as the free wave wanders :— or, in might 
 Descending, from the bosom of th' abyss 
 Bid the dry land appear. Such, as of late, 
 They view'd off Santorin, who, at gray dawn, 
 Saw but the still wave smiling, and light mists 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 285 
 
 That play'd on its blue bosom. Fearful sights 
 
 Succeeded ; for ere yet swift eve declined, 
 
 Untimely darkness sat upon the sea, 
 
 While ocean thunder'd 'mid the storm of waves, 
 
 From whose wide-smoking bosom floods of fire 
 
 Gush'd forth, and rocks that, hurtling in 'mid air, 
 
 Blaz'd as they flew ; and from the rent abyss 
 
 An isle uprose, with cliff, and spacious plain : 
 
 And from afar its promontory tow'r'd 
 
 A mount of living flames : anon to bear 
 
 Gay verdure, and to listen to the voice 
 
 Of rills that down cool glens meand'ring glide. 
 
 The vital Word went forth: " Be fruitful, Seas ! 
 " Bring forth abundantly." — Earth ! on thy face 
 Dwells gladness : and thy green lap gifts with food 
 Fair creatures in their kind : but 'neath thy turf 
 Lies the dark realm untenanted. Thou, Deep! 
 Teem'st animate throughout, sea beneath sea 
 Continuous birth. Enormous forms uncouth 
 Heave on the main, and upward gazing, spout 
 The briny fount. But who hath told the race 
 Under the green wave gliding ? Part, below, 
 Haunt : other part, at season due, move forth, 
 Not without charge shaping their yearly course, 
 To feed earth's barren regions. Witness, ye, 
 
286 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 On Drontheim's pine-crown'd steeps ! and that bold 
 
 race 
 In bosom of the melancholy main : 
 Rude natives of the rocks, whose bleak heights gaze 
 On Caledonia's howling head-lands wild : 
 The sterile residence, where no hill top 
 Waves verdure — ye, rejoice ! No longer chase 
 On cliffs, whose dizzy brows o'erarch the flood, 
 The fierce and clamorous sea-fowl : tempt no more 
 Dark caves where wild kinds gender. Golden suns 
 Invite : 'tis peace, and silence on the sea. 
 The ice-chain of the northern Deep gives way ; 
 Forth burst the nations. Ocean gleams afar : 
 The many-colour'd main has lost its hue 
 Cerulean. Where the vast migration heaves, 
 Wing'd flights o'erhang their banquet, vast of size 
 Beneath, on either flank, the swoln whale preys 
 Insatiate : nathless, far and wide, and deep, 
 Column on column, furrowing up the flood, 
 Rolls onward, and each isle and peopled rock 
 Rings like a hamlet feast at harvest home. 
 
 Soother of Seasons ! World of Waters ! hail ! 
 The Pow'r, whose wisdom wheels the globe athwart 
 The orb of light, and laid each adverse pole 
 On everlasting ice, bad roll thy strength, 
 
 
AIR-EARTH— OCEAN. 287 
 
 Potent alike, or from swart realms to sweep 
 Thick sunbeams off, or, forceful to repel 
 Stern Winter, as he stands upon the edge 
 Of the firm-frozen Arctic. — Wherefore rests 
 Earth rooted 'mid thy billows ? Hark ! the voice 
 Of Nature, calling on the Lord of life 
 With thy nutritious spirit to sustain 
 Creation. And the Lord of life looks down, 
 And bids each searching sunbeam, and each wind 
 Whose path is on the restless Deep, require 
 His treasures stor'd in thy capacious womb, 
 To gladden the green herb. Hence, tempests, toss 
 Thy billows : or, smooth seas, of winds unvex'd, 
 That seem to sleep, wave after wave, ascend, 
 And silently along the blue serene 
 Float on the painted clouds, that deck the pomp 
 Of summer. And the golden-tressed hours 
 That tend the car of day, gird up in light 
 Thy viewless waters : and, in turn, the train 
 That stol'd in matron weeds, accompany 
 Eve's shadowy course, with dewy finger chill 
 Unloose the burden, and pour stilly down 
 On hill and vale large dew-drops, that all night 
 Lay thick upon the branch, and gem at dawn 
 With pearls the twinkling green-sward. And who 
 comes 
 
288 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 In thunder, and thick canopy of clouds, 
 
 Borne on the tempest's outstretch'd wings, and 
 
 pours 
 On earth thy rich abundance, making air 
 Another ocean? Thou com'st down in strength, 
 Jehovah ! o'er the splendour of noon-day, 
 When freshness fails the mead, thy glory, girt 
 With thunder, and in canopy of clouds 
 Pavilion'd : and the winds, that bear thee on, 
 Shake from their sounding pennons, far and wide, 
 The rush of mighty waters. These have charge 
 To pierce beneath earth's grassy robe, and search 
 The veins that intersect her ribs of rock, 
 The crude mine ripening : some, therein to place, 
 As in a thick-arch'd treasury, richest grains 
 Borne with the stream ; or lodge the embryon ores, 
 That in their lapse pass'd viewless : thus, her depths 
 In many a cavernous womb, and veiny cleft, 
 Seemingly work of violence, are stor'd 
 With inexhaustible wealth : her palaces, 
 Where some have feign'd gnomes, and swart demon, 
 
 girt 
 With dragon guard, brood o'er their unsunn'd heaps, 
 Gleam diamond-lustred. — Hence, her roofs emboss'd 
 With gems and stalactites, whose loitering drops 
 Grow rigid in their fall, and from beneath 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 289 
 
 Sparring the crystal pavement rise, each one 
 
 A brilliant coruscation. Some, ere sunk 
 
 Beneath the soil, explore the tainted wreck 
 
 Of forms organic once, in sad decay 
 
 Now wasting slow. The pure stream, as it parts 
 
 Their elements, methinks, with voice of pow'r 
 
 Exclaims — " Why slumber ye, who, lately adorn'd 
 
 " With form, and hue, and vigour, in gay bloom 
 
 " Perfum'd the spring : or on the mountain brows, 
 
 " Like those of Libanon, when roar'd the gale, 
 
 " Spread your broad arms indignant : or, endow'd 
 
 " With the celestial Spirit, dwelt on God, 
 
 " Creator, Judge, and Saviour. — Sleep no more 
 
 " A burden, and a pest. I bear you down, 
 
 " To rise a new creation." — Thus ordain'd, 
 
 To Nature, and her many seeded womb, 
 
 The vital spirit of the water bears 
 
 Fertility. The new germ wakes, unfolds, 
 
 And from its brow, aspirant, proudly shakes 
 
 Its cradling earth-tomb off. Meantime, the dews 
 
 Descend : and every fibre, myriad-mouth'd, 
 
 Rests never from the moisten'd mould to draw 
 
 New life : and, at each genial season, quaff 
 
 Afresh nectareous stores that autumn laid 
 
 In root, and grassy joint, and knotted stem, 
 
 Food for the vernal offspring : on they wind 
 
290 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Elaborate, thro' many a branching vein, 
 And many a mazy vessel, opening now, 
 Now closing, wreath on wreath their spiral rings 
 To woo, and urge them upwards. The green leaf 
 Expands, and drinks the light, and at each pore 
 That opens on the sun, the currents change 
 Their nature : part, the liquid form put off, 
 Goes forth an unseen element, the waste 
 Of vital air restoring : part, absorb'd, 
 Flows, circling, down, richly endow'd, to form 
 Fruits, and fresh growth of harvests, precious gums 
 Lenient of pain : all that the summer bee 
 Steals, labouring into liquid gold, and all 
 That Mecca gathers, when the wounded rind 
 Weeps, and each tear a sov'reign balm distils — 
 These kindly flow. But where th' immingling veins 
 Join currents, Lord of Nature, I behold 
 Thy plastic Spirit provident. The sap 
 Assumes corporeal substance, and while man, 
 Race after race, sinks, mouldering into dust, 
 Grows, gathering up its hardihood; now rears 
 'Mid the wild woods some beech, that far outspreads 
 O'er the dark lake its night of leaves : or pine 
 Norwegian, on high mountain ridge, of pow'r 
 To stay the expanded main-sail labouring full 
 Before the gale : or ever-during growth 
 
 
AIR -EARTH— OCEAN. 291 
 
 Of oak unyielding : such as Britain boasts 
 
 In many a native forest. Witness, thou, 
 
 Far-fam'd in song, hoar Silcar ! whose high brow 
 
 O'er Need-wood shades tow'rs eminent : and thou, 
 
 Renown of Yardley ! to whose honour'd age 
 
 A Bard, whose lyre was tun'd with angel chords, 
 
 Disdain'd not homage : and thy boast, unsung, 
 
 Hainault! not seldom underneath whose gloom 
 
 I muse, and lonely meditate the lay, 
 
 Still Peace and inspiration breathing round. 
 
 The years of old hang graceful on thy boughs. 
 Yon gray-hair'd woodman, native of these wilds, 
 Who to his list'ning grandson tells the tale 
 His grandsires told, delivers down of thee 
 Traditionary records, as of one 
 Whose birth outrun their date. They too, like me, 
 Beheld with fond regret thy gray-top sere 
 Bare to each gale, the roots that prop thy bulk 
 Expos'd, and heaving 'bove the wintry floods 
 Their gnarl'd and wreathed strength : thy rugged 
 
 trunk, 
 Like some vast cave by storm-tost ocean arch'd, 
 Deep hollow'd, and the outstretch of thy arms 
 Gigantic, measuring far and wide the glade. 
 u2 
 
292 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 How gladly would the Muse — were this fit place — 
 Search out thy birth, tho' trac'd 'mid days unblest, 
 When wolves, amid the labyrinth of woods, 
 Prowl'd freely, and the doe scarce found still lair 
 To hide her fawn new-dropt. Might now the song 
 Pursue thy growth, would it not tell of times, 
 When British archers bold, unquestion'd, twang'd 
 The yew in forest chase ? and following up 
 Thy strength, recount of Normans, whose harsh 
 
 yoke 
 Fell on the woodlands, when thy branches rang'd 
 O'er antler'd herds at rest : — that age gone by, 
 How note that here and there the cot peep'd up, 
 When on the spreading rind the shepherd lad 
 His rude mark scarr'd, or 'gainst thy trunk reclin'd, 
 Shap'd his green reed, and in rude minstrelsy 
 Pip'd to the flock at pasture : — then point out, 
 Wild after wild uprooted, where the ox 
 Sore-labour'd : and how roof crept close to roof, 
 And neighb'ring hamlets rose, and the sweet chime 
 Of the church-bell was heard, when, 'neath the shade 
 Of thy luxuriant prime, at yearly feast, 
 Gathered the jocund reapers, when the sheaf 
 Was garner'd. Gambols then, laughter and dance, 
 And merrily the rival songsters troll'd 
 
AIR-EARTH— OCEAN. 293 
 
 Their roundelay, and many a chaplet deck'd 
 The victor's prize, thy boughs. — Far other theme 
 Now waits me: underneath earth's flow'ry lap 
 To trace the show'rs that search her secret depths, 
 And from dark caves, and pregnant mines gush 
 
 forth 
 In gifted waters. 
 
 Hail, salubrious springs, 
 In moor and mount! and ye, whose rills endow 
 Proud cities : or, in fring'd dells cleave the rock ! 
 Flow on! and ever o'er your currents hear 
 The shout of adoration ; such as shook 
 Thy porch, Bethesda ! when the Angel, seen 
 Of mortal eye, at certain time, came down 
 Troubling the water. Where beholds not earth 
 The crippled leap, and the suspended crutch 
 Hang o'er the healing fount? Who has not heard 
 Of marble-paved Prusa, and fam'd springs 
 From Pyrenean heights ? nor flow thy streams, 
 My native isle, lov'd Albion ! of far realms 
 Unhonour'd. Pure thy springs, where'er they lead, 
 Fair Hope : and with delightful scenery cheer 
 The sufferer: whether to thy verdant brow, 
 Sun-circled Malvern! severing yon expanse 
 Of meads, along whose range Sabrina winds 
 Her yellow waters, from that fairy land 3 
 
294 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Changeful of hill and dale, which blossom'd o'er 
 
 Of orchards, all the pleasant spring-time make 
 
 A flow'ry garden redolent; or, on 
 
 To woo the tepid fountains, welling up 
 
 'Mid crystal waterfalls, and woods which root 
 
 Their tangles in the veins of starting rocks, 
 
 That hang o'er the green glen, where Matlock smiles 
 
 Imparadis'd: — or, to thy flow'ry meads, 
 
 Fair structur'd Bath ! and fount, of pow'r to heal 
 
 Him hopeless, like that Syrian chief, who left, 
 
 Tho' loth, for Jordan's flood, his native streams, 
 
 His Pharphar and Abuna, and went back 
 
 Like one new born. 
 
 Such Albion boasts. I pass 
 The rest in silence by. So might I pass 
 One, which to name I linger: linger, long 
 Reluctant, pausing on the bosom griefs 
 That will have way. Yet, far the spring renown'd, 
 And Health ('tis said) of Clifton's fountain fills 
 Her chalice. Yet, ah, happier thou, than I, 
 Ah, happier far, whoe'er, on whose fond arm 
 One well belov'd to life and bliss restor'd, 
 Has hung, and there with salutation sweet, 
 Bade farewell to each lovely haunt, on down, 
 Green slope, or by the river's brawling maze, 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 295 
 
 That, under glittering cliffs, seeks the still combs 
 
 That whisper peace : but not to me : to me 
 
 Woe, and fond thoughts of those, who sought the 
 
 fount 
 But thence return'd no more; — of thee, there laid, 
 Thy duties done : thou ! on whose nurturing breast 
 I hung; and from whose lip (oh, patient Spirit!) 
 First drew celestial truth. So were but mine 
 Thy suavity, and gentleness of heart, 
 Kind mother! and those jocund spirits light, 
 That, unrepress'd by troubles, not unwept, 
 Rose bright with hope : as, after storm, the flow'r 
 Springs renovate, and, looking on the sun, 
 Throws from its opening leaves the chill drops off. 
 
 There, thou, at last, in the still grave, hast found 
 Thy place of rest, my sister I on whose couch, 
 Moon after moon, as years toil'd slowly round, 
 Rest dwelt not, chas'd of untold pangs, that rous'd 
 To nightly vigils. Yet, while sharp disease, 
 Tho' slow, hung ceaseless o'er thee, thy pale lip 
 Still spake of Hope, nor lost in pain its smile. 
 Rest thou with God! with us, who yet remain, 
 Thy bright example ! and, if such on earth 
 Our doom, Saint! sorely tried, breathe in our souls 
 A portion of thy spirit! — And thou, too, 
 
296 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 With these, my playful child! — where now that voice, 
 Whose sound was as gay music? Thou art gone, 
 Whose fancy was the magic of bright dreams, 
 Making earth fairy-vision'd — sweetest flow'r 
 Cut off in beauty's bloom : in loveliest prime 
 Of life, when each new day new charms unfolds. 
 Thou art not, nor avails the tender thought 
 That dwells on what thou wert, on what hadst been, 
 (Train'd up by her who inly weeps thy loss) 
 If life had held its promise. 
 
 Ah, farewell ! 
 I may not dwell, unblam'd, with vain regret 
 On those who are no more — 
 
 Yet — yet — farewell ! 
 
( 297 ) 
 
 CONTINUATION AND CONCLUSION 
 
 THE AIR— THE EARTH, AND OCEAN. 
 
 Arise! nor longer turn to fond lament 
 The strain of adoration! 
 
 Ye wing'd storms, 
 That sweep contagion off: ye clouds, that seek 
 The mountain's frozen brows, and down their range 
 Feed with perpetual lapse of winding floods 
 Earth's peopled realms ! and ye, Etesian gales ! 
 That know th' appointed times, and bearing on 
 Exultant Commerce o'er wide seas, in turn 
 Hold empire! ye, celestial ministers! 
 Accept my closing numbers. 
 
 Oh! were mine 
 The harp of Sion, and the hand to sweep 
 
298 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Its thrilling wires, responsive to that voice 
 Which, in the visitation of the winds, 
 Speaks unto earth and ocean! 
 
 " Roar, ye waves ! 
 " And heave your mountain billows ! and ye storms, 
 " Bear on your wings pure gales ! and sweeping on 
 " Unwearied search the Deep, from sea to sea, 
 " If there corruption gender. Bow, ye woods, 
 " Till every leaf give answer. Earth, beneath, 
 " Has sickly taint, the spotted pest is sped 
 " On ravage ; and where close throng'd cities send 
 " Their loud brawl madd'ning up, silently weaves 
 " For all the shroud of death. Lo, on the plains 
 " Mildew, and foul stagnation, and the fiend 
 " That to the sickle says, ' Away ! 'tis mine 
 " ' The harvest ; mine the seed of swart decay.' 
 " These fly the tempest's sweep. Where now, oh 
 
 " earth, 
 " The locust, the wing'd host ? I heard afar 
 " The hurtling of their pennons, as they rush'd 
 " Impatient to devour. And who, but thou, 
 " My north-east! with the breathing of thy blast 
 " Confus'd the dark array, and, warping, drave 
 " Their battle down to ocean? and the Deep 
 " Lay still beneath their tumult." 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 299 
 
 Such his voice 
 Whose sound goes forth in tempest. Ye have 
 
 heard, 
 'Mid summer seas, on islands of the sun, 
 Ye, too, have heard it, when th' infuriate gales 
 Rag'd, and rent earth reel'd on its central base 
 Beneath you? Oh, awhile forsake your haunts 
 On the green mountain slope, where now ye woo 
 The sea breeze, and the voice of murmuring rills, 
 Lapp'd in delightful day dreams, underneath 
 Cool arch of quivering foliage. Hang no more 
 O'er golden fruited groves, and plains that burst 
 With nectar harvests, whence the stir of men, 
 And pipe and song, immix'd with other sound 
 Of menace and lament. Away ! unyoke 
 The slave: 'tis time: unyoke: foreboding signs 
 Give note. How! mark'd you not the conscious 
 
 moon, 
 'Mid the dilated stars dimm'd in their sheen, 
 Crimson her silver crescent? and yon mounts 
 That shook their thick mists off, and stood confess'd, 
 As aw'd in unveil'd terror? Wherefore seen 
 Ere sun-set, in the depth of distant heav'ns, 
 Clouds behind clouds unrolling, whence pale fires 
 That faintly gleam'd, as if th' omnipotent arm 
 Had rent th' ethereal canopy, and show'd 
 
300 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Foreboding lightnings, ere yet launch'd to smite 
 The nether globe ? That time, the earth beneath 
 Sent forth a sound as of a mighty wind : 
 Nor the deep wells kept silence, nor yet ceas'd 
 Ocean, when no gale stirr'd, to heave its strength, 
 And breathe foul taints. Fly, fly! the voice from 
 
 earth 
 And sea is hush'd: o'er all, dead Silence reigns 
 Delusive. Hark ! at once the tempest roars 
 Infuriate, wing'd with flame: the madd'ning winds 
 From every point, as in wild chaos old, 
 Immingle. To the bolt, launch'd down from heav'n, 
 Earth sends her lightnings up. And hark ! the roar 
 Of ocean, and deep thunders, and prone floods 
 From flaming clouds, and hideous crash of woods 
 And fall of cities, tow'r and fort laid low, 
 As on the hurricane's outstretch'd pennons, Death 
 Shouts triumphing. — 'Tis past: the beam of morn 
 Smiles, and from deep-delv'd caves steal slowly out 
 The bond slave and his lord, and to and fro 
 Stray in their fear, wide wreck and woe around : 
 Forgotten soon : for 'mid the storm rush'd down 
 The genial Pow'r, beneath whose sway the isle, 
 Ere long, exhaustless revels : as if earth 
 Had in the shaking of the blast thrown off 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 30 1 
 
 Her hoar decrepitude, and newly rob'd 
 
 In youth, and bloom of beauty, woo'd the sun. 
 
 7& *p "3f» *J& yfc »J7 5j? 
 
 ?p 5p 3p _ 3p ?|& 5|6 tj& 
 
 Not at list 
 The winds breathe light or boisterous ; not at list 
 Wander capricious : each, call'd duly out, 
 Hears, and fulfils high mission. Does parch'd earth 
 Pant, and the cleaving glebe expose to light 
 The dry and wither'd root ? Lo ! from the west, 
 Clouds that show'r down abundance. Droops the 
 
 plain 
 Deep-flooded? far, o'er land, the east- wind speeds 
 With dryness on his pennons. Claims the seed 
 Warmth of o'er-mantling snow ? Comes not the 
 
 north 
 With fleecy flakes thick-burden'd? and when Spring 
 Fears to unfold her blossoms, and hoar frost 
 Hangs, tinkling on the bud, how sweetly sounds 
 The south-wind from its pleasant place, and wakes 
 The flow'rets, and unchains the rills that shed 
 Soft dew-drops on the garland-tressed May. 
 
 Nor less, vast winds that sway the waters, hear 
 Like gracious charge celestial. Launch, then, forth 
 
302 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Adventurous, and behold how God has spread 
 The ocean out, and bad the gales there ope 
 The high-way of the nations. 
 
 Boasts, then, Earth 
 Her fixed state? and, gazing, proudly round 
 On the eternal hills, exclaims, " Oh, Man ! 
 " Here rest : on my stability repose ! 
 " Fulfil thy destiny here, where sleep thy sires, 
 " Each in his native soil! Oh, stay: Content, 
 " That met thee yester-morn, and to still vales 
 " Led thee at eve, shall it not greet with smiles 
 " Thy morrow as this day, and link in one, 
 " Age and the stripling prime ? Rest here, nor 
 
 " dread 
 " The coming hour : enough, that God has fix'd 
 " Seed-time, and harvest. Let the mariner, 
 " At night-watch, with the many-shadow'd clouds, 
 " Hold question of the obscure and doubtful sign: 
 " And hear them, as endow'd with many tongues, 
 " Give answer. Let him commune with each star 
 " That cast its beam on th' billow, or pale moon 
 " That toils thro' sullen skies, or streaks of fire, 
 " Which, when sad eve the clouded welkin cross'd, 
 " Spake of near tempest. Recks it thee, what Night 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 303 
 
 " Says of the Morn? if fair, tell out thy flock 
 
 " On th' upland brow, and number their increase ; 
 
 " Or hie to rural work, in sun or shade, 
 
 " Green forest, or the bean-field breathing sweats: 
 
 " Or, of thy toil make pastime, in the press 
 
 " Of labour thro' the sultry harvest moon. 
 
 " If tempests threaten, let the bleak storm burst : 
 
 " Holds not thy cot firm station upon earth ? 
 
 " Falls not the slumberous rain-drop from thy eaves, 
 
 " While on the breast of love the brow of toil 
 
 " Lies sweetly pillow'd. There repose in peace 
 
 " Unquestion'd, while the song that lulls thy rest 
 
 " Dwells on the distant shipwreck, and vex'd men 
 
 " That with mad seas wage warfare." 
 
 Cease ! — Have heart, 
 Brave mariner ! and let their night-song close 
 On shipwreck and sea-farers ! Steer thou on ! 
 Traverse the watery world ! from clime to clime 
 Pour forth on each the gifts of all, and link 
 Mankind in bonds of love : diffuse the light 
 Of science, teach the savage arts unknown, 
 And o'er the nations and lone isles bring down 
 The day- spring of Salvation. — Therefore, God 
 Spake to the winds an ordinance, and gave 
 The sun his station. Does the orb of day 
 
304 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Light up the eastern flood ? the sea-breeze knows 
 
 Its harbinger, and ocean flows beneath 
 
 His beam, on progress : other winds, meantime, 
 
 Each in due season, slope from either pole 
 
 Their currents sunward. Lo! the Lord of Day 
 
 Drives up the northern signs : earth gladly drinks 
 
 His radiance, and the Pole that long lay hid 
 
 In gloom, unvisited of gladsome beam, 
 
 Forgets the darkness, wdiile the broad bright disc, 
 
 Month after month, day ever without night, 
 
 Rolls round his brow reposeless. And the wings 
 
 Of mighty winds that bear his chariot, range 
 
 Beyond their former bounds : and sweeping on 
 
 South-eastward, half the year, athwart the sea 
 
 Of Araby, to shores where Gama found 
 
 Enthron'd the Zamorin ; or round the Cape 
 
 By Taprobana, guide the vessel on 
 
 To Ganges, and the golden Chersonese : — 
 
 Or, further, past Sumatra, and the gulf 
 
 Of Siam, turn the prow, where foreign masts 
 
 Crowd in the Bocca-Tigris. — In old times 
 
 When they of Ishmael, who, on journey, came 
 
 From Gilead w 7 ith their camels, bearing spice 
 
 To Egypt, balm and myrrh, and bought him, slave, 
 
 Whom visions of the Almighty preordain'd 
 
 For glory: and, in later times, o'erland, 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 305 
 
 When traffickers, 'mid deserts, drave their march 
 To Tadmor, and beheld, o'er pillar 'd heights 
 That tow'r'd afar, like high-embowed woods, 
 The sun's proud temple soaring, serv'd not then, 
 As now, th' Etesian gale, and one its voice 
 Delightful heard on ocean ? 
 
 " Hither come, 
 " Ye nations ! for your fleets the billow flows 
 " Expectant : leave the land, 'tis tedious toil, 
 " Rude is the pathless mountain, and yon wastes 
 " Unfreshen'd by a rill : fly the wing'd sands 
 " That wait you, and wild Arab, eagle-ey'd, 
 " Loose from the bond, and brotherhood of Man ! 
 
 " Hither, ye nations ! to your fleets I call. 
 " I lead to realms where show'r and sunshine strive 
 " In emulous contest, genial both, which best 
 " Shall fertilise the soil, and gift its birth 
 " With grandeur, grace, and beauty. Nature, here, 
 " Knows not repose ; on tendril, tree, and blade, 
 " Harvest succeeds to harvest : and the fruit 
 " That falls from the full branch, looks on the bud, 
 " Gay opening on the sunbeam. Bear from hence 
 " Your ivory palaces, and dow'r your brides 
 " With diamonds and rare gems. Behold yon woods 
 x 
 
306 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 11 Gigantic : they, in triumph, o'er the main 
 
 " Shall float your treasures, when the northern oak 
 
 " Droops, mouldering, on the sea-beach. Steers- 
 
 " man ! hence ! 
 " Lo! down the southern signs the Lord of Day 
 " Speeds his slope car. — Away: the wind and wave 
 " Flow, favouring thy departure : loose each sail, 
 " And shout along the main, " Yon world of waves, 
 " ' Jehovah, the Creator, spread it forth, 
 " ' Connecting every clime/ " 
 
 Hence Commerce speeds 
 Her fleets proud tilting o'er the brine, and sweeps 
 From- shore to shore ; or, lock'd in marble ports, 
 Emporiums of the world, in festive joy, 
 With flute and trumpet, and symphonious voice, 
 'Mid banners, and beneath the painted shade 
 Of pennants and gay streamers, bids the main 
 Keep holiday, and the still wave give back 
 The brightness of their bravery. 
 
 'Twas not thus 
 Of old, and time has been, on that wide sea 
 'Twas vacant all : all vacant : save amid 
 Th' expanse, one ark roll'd lonely ; lonely roll'd 
 'Mid that wide sea. Voice then in human lip 
 
AIR— EARTH— OCEAN. 307 
 
 None was, save heard of those within, whose pray'r 
 
 Was mingled with lament : of those within, 
 
 Sole remnant of a race, swept in their guilt 
 
 From being, and the earth which bore them, gone 
 
 With all its heritage. O'er these the wave 
 
 Had clos'd ; and for the cry and confus'd stir 
 
 When nation after nation perish'd whole, 
 
 Silence and Solitude. — And on the Ark 
 
 Roll'd restless : and the tossing of that Deep 
 
 Was terrible, and terrible the roar 
 
 Of clashing elements : nor yet rent heav'n 
 
 Had ceas'd to pour down rain, nor yet the abyss 
 
 From every broken fountain to heave up 
 
 The Deluge : and the face of things was one — 
 
 A world of waters tempested. Oh, ye ! 
 
 Who in the great Deep traffic, and implore 
 
 Its mercy, when the troubled ocean views 
 
 God in his sore displeasure, call to mind 
 
 The Patriarch, him, who o'er that delug'd world, 
 
 When the day saw no sun, the night no star, 
 
 Pass'd fearless, God his guide. On rolls the Ark : 
 
 And lo ! from forth the multitude of clouds 
 
 The x\ngel of Omnipotence descends 
 
 In glory : underneath his foot, the world 
 
 Of waters peaceful lies, and o'er his brow 
 
 Radiant in opening heav'n th' ethereal arch, 
 
308 THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 Whose basis rests on ocean, brightly beams, 
 While, to adoring man, and earth restor'd, 
 The Angel, with uplifted arm, displays 
 The everlasting covenant, and shows 
 On that bright sign, that visible vow between 
 God and the world, the Maker and his works, 
 Justice and Mercy join'd. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Friendship — dedicated to * * * *. 
 
 Farewell to Bevis Mount— 1789. 
 
 On Seeing in a Dream the Vision of my Mother. 
 
 To my "Wife. 
 
 To my Sons. 
 
 Written in a solitary Inn between Munich and Augsburg — 1817. 
 
 On the same place. 
 
 Retrospect. Written at Brighton— 1820. 
 
The following Poems, and more particularly 
 the last, entitled " Retrospect," comprise the 
 chief events which have diversified a life of 
 retirement, and of literary leisure. 
 
 His saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani 
 Officio— 
 
 Lower Grosvenor Street, 
 May 17, 1825. 
 
( 311 ) 
 
 FRIENDSHIP- 
 DEDICATED TO *****. 
 
 I may not, tho' my spirit inly glows, 
 
 Breathe out your name, nor to the lyre reveal 
 The deep sensations that my lips conceal : 
 
 On your mute virtues silence shall repose. 
 
 Yet will I dwell on that auspicious hour, 
 
 When first we met in youth's delightful day : 
 And trace, thro' changeful years, th' unyielding 
 sway 
 
 Of Friendship, whose indissoluble pow'r 
 
 Mix'd tear with tear, and smile with smile allied. 
 The cup we pledg'd, if Joy the chalice held, 
 Was doubly sweet : if Woe, 'twas half repell'd 
 
 By Sympathy, that would the grief divide. 
 
 So have we liv'd : and many a sun-shine beam 
 Has rested on our path, amid the gloom 
 Of misery mingled with Man's earthly doom. 
 
 Peace ! on our evening hang her rainbow gleam ! 
 
 Ere come that icy Night which chills the heart : 
 
 Ere yet — no more to meet on earth — we part. 
 
( 312 ) 
 FAREWELL 
 
 TO 
 
 BEVIS MOUNT. 
 
 Mary! ere yet with lingering step we leave 
 
 These bow'rs, the haunt of Peace, where many a 
 
 year 
 Has o'er us pass'd delightful, if a tear 
 
 Stray down my cheek, not for myself I grieve. 
 
 Here thou hadst fondly hop'd till life's last eve 
 To rest. On yonder bank the flow'rs appear 
 Nurs'd by thy culture : there thy wodbines rear 
 
 Their tendrils. Thou, ah ! thou, unseen, wilt heave 
 
 A sigh, what time we bid these groves farewell : 
 Yet in thy breast resides a soothing pow'r, 
 That sheds the sweet not found in herb or flow'r. 
 
 Oh, Mary ! what to us where doom'd to dwell ? 
 
 Enough, that Peace and thou can never part : 
 
 Belov'd of me the spot where'er thou art. 
 
( 313 ) 
 
 ON 
 SEEING IN A DREAM 
 
 THE VISION OF MY MOTHER. 
 
 Naples, March 19, 1817. 
 
 Let me again that look that voice recall ! 
 Again, beneath the sunshine and broad day- 
 Dwell on the dream of night! so wear away 
 Hour after hour, till on my eyelid fall 
 The vision and deep darkness ! — Honour'd Shade ! 
 I may not from the shelter of the tomb 
 Woo thee once more to earth's uncertain doom : 
 Yet would I fain, the while in slumber laid 
 I breathe thy name, that thou, at that still hour, 
 As in my childhood oft at dead of night, 
 Shouldst like a blessing on my sleep alight, 
 And on my brow draw Heav'n's protecting pow'r. 
 
( 314 ) 
 
 TO MY WIFE* 
 
 How, as I grace with thee my opening lay, 
 How, with what language, Mary ! may I greet 
 Thy matron ear, that Truth's pure utterance meet 
 Sound not like flattery ? In life's youthful day, 
 When to thy charms and virgin beauty bright, 
 I tun'd my numbers, Hope, enchantress fair, 
 Trick'd a gay world with colours steep'd in air, 
 And suns that never set in envious night. 
 Ah! since that joyous prime, beloved Wife ! 
 
 Years, mix'd of good and ill, have o'er us pass'd : 
 And I have seen, at times, thy smile o'ercast 
 With sadness. Not the less my lot of life 
 With thee has been most blissful — heav'nly Peace, 
 Thy guardian angel, Mary ! has beguil'd 
 My woe, and sooth'd my wayward fancy wild. 
 Nor shall its soothing influence ever cease, 
 Thou present, weal or woe, as may, betide ! — 
 Hail, Wife, and Mother, lov'd beyond the Bride. 
 
 Fair Mead Lodge, Epping Forest, 
 July 17, 1806. 
 
 * Dedication to " Saul"— Book I. 
 
( 315 ) 
 
 TO 
 
 MY SONS* 
 
 This Lay be yours ! whom yet these haunts of Peace 
 Hold, where my childhood play'd, and still I trace 
 The bright sun rise, and close his summer race, 
 Nor wish for bliss beyond. Here soon must cease 
 Your pastimes. Manhood, from these sheltering 
 shades 
 Beckons you forth : go then, but reckless not 
 Of those, who in this sweet sequester'd spot 
 Shed their lone tears upon the sunshine glades, 
 Your future fate revolving. Bear in mind 
 
 The lore here taught, and happiness, that sprung 
 Of innocence, perpetual carol sung. 
 Then — " Since to part" — to God's high will resign'd, 
 Advance where Duty calls — Enough to know 
 That Virtue guides to bliss, Vice leads to woe. 
 
 * Dedication to " Saul"— Book II. 
 
( 316 ) 
 
 WRITTEN IN A SOLITARY INN 
 BETWEEN MUNICH AND AUGSBURGH, 
 
 August — 1817. 
 
 'Tis past — the agony of Fear — 
 
 The icy grasp of Woe : 
 At length I may indulge the tear, 
 
 And bid its solace flow : 
 And dwelling on the danger past, 
 And anguish too severe to last, 
 Breathe out what weigh'd upon the heart, 
 And feel the plaint so pour'd a sooothing balm 
 
 impart. 
 
 Till now, all outward grief was still, 
 
 Still as the stifled breath : 
 While inly spake a voice of ill, 
 
 A tongue that dwelt on death : 
 When Love and Duty watching round, 
 No solace in each other found, 
 
WRITTEN IN AN INN. 317 
 
 But fear'd to catch a whisper'd tone, 
 And view in every eye the pang that dimm'd their 
 own. 
 
 Sore sickness on a foreign bed 
 
 A wife and mother laid, 
 A Husband o'er her bow'd his head, 
 
 Her children watch'd and pray'd : 
 And one, who claim'd not kindred blood, 
 As if she ey'd her spirit, stood, 
 And still incessant at her side, 
 With toil that never tir'd, a sister's love supplied. 
 
 I was that Husband, I that Sire, 
 
 My Daughters vigils kept; 
 And thou, consum'd by fever fire, 
 O'er whom we watch'd and wept, 
 My Mary ! thine that languid frame, 
 
 Which sank beneath th' internal flame, 
 As hour by hour, and day by day, 
 And night succeeding night slow wax'd and wan'd 
 away. 
 
 There as we watch'd thee, hour by hour, 
 
 We saw the fearful strife, 
 The tremulous poise of adverse pow'r, 
 
 The war of Death and Life : 
 
318 WRITTEN IN AN INN 
 
 When quicklier now, and quicklier prest 
 The hot breath heav'd the lab'ring breast, 
 And faintly now, and faintlier fell, 
 'Till in one long low sob it seem'd to breathe farewell. 
 
 But then — not then to deep despair 
 
 The heart was wholly given : 
 The spirit borne aloft in pray'r 
 
 Knelt at the throne of heav'n : 
 And when all human hope was gone, 
 Hung on Omnipotence alone, 
 On Thee, who from thy mercy-shrine 
 Deign'st to the cry of earth thy gracious ear incline. 
 
 The pray'r prevail'd : we saw thee move, 
 
 And lift th' uncertain eye : 
 But the fond lip that sooth'd thee, love! 
 
 From thine drew no reply, 
 Except an inarticulate moan, 
 Oft broken by a deep-drawn groan, 
 When thy tir'd hand that toss'd the bed, 
 Now, wandering, grasp'd the air, now search'd the 
 
 throbbing head. 
 
 'Tis past — the bitterness is past — 
 Awake th' enlivening strain! 
 
NEAR MUNICH. 319 
 
 Each day beams brighter than the last: 
 
 Thou art thyself again. 
 Thine eye the kindred eye has found, 
 Thine ear has drank a kindred sound : 
 To thee our heart's deep joy is known — 
 Yes — thou hast made our bliss the measure of thine 
 
 own. 
 
 We shall around Love's golden chain 
 
 New links of love entwine, 
 And closer to our bosom strain 
 
 Each heart that lighten'd thine — 
 Will not that hand be fondlier press'd 
 That stole the anguish from thy breast, 
 And blessings on that brow repose 
 Where thou wert wont to rest, and pain's slow eye- 
 lid close ? 
 
 Let us, while life yet lasts, retain 
 
 Remembrance of that woe, 
 So from the couch of transient pain 
 
 See tenderest transport flow. 
 And when beneath o'ershadowing death, 
 The last " Farewell" exhausts our breath, 
 Oh, may we on those brows, so blest, 
 Clasp'd in each other's arms sink down at once to 
 rest! 
 
320 WRITTEN IN AN INN. 
 
 But if just heav'n that pray'r deny, 
 
 Be mine ! by thee to stand, 
 Catch thy last look, thy farewell sigh, 
 
 And hold in death thy hand : 
 Then kiss ere yet to darkness giv'n, 
 On thy clos'd lip the seal of heav'n — 
 So shall thy bliss assuage my woes, 
 Ere, Mary ! in thy tomb my Spirit find repose ! 
 
( 321 ) 
 
 ON A LONE DISTRICT 
 BETWEEN MUNICH AND AUGSBURGH. 
 
 The traveller onward speeds his pace 
 
 Regardless of thy scene, 
 And resting on some lovelier place, 
 
 Forgets thou ere hast been : 
 
 But— on the loveliest spot on earth, 
 Tho' Home that spot may be, 
 
 As thou hadst welcom'd in my birth, 
 My Spirit dwells on thee. 
 
 The woes I there endur'd awhile 
 Thy memory more endear, 
 
 For thou beheld'st my brightest smile 
 Beam from my bitterest tear. 
 
( 322 ) 
 
 RETROSPECT. 
 
 WRITTEN AT BRIGHTON— 1820. 
 
 Are ye the same? 
 Ye Downs ! gray cliffs of Brighton, and thou, Sea, 
 Rolling in thy sublimity? 
 Thou, on whose shore, in other time, 
 The May-day of my prime, 
 I challeag'd the swift billow, as it leapt, 
 To catch my light foot, racing, fearlessly, 
 On the dank rocky edge, 
 Lin'd by the sea-wrack sedge, 
 While the wing'd foam around my temples swept? 
 Art thou the sunny strand, 
 Along whose level sand 
 My frolic step its untaught measures kept, 
 Attemper'd to the music of the main, 
 As Echo from her cave breath'd back the ocean 
 strain ? 
 
 
RETROSPECT. 823 
 
 The Downs in vernal robes are dress'd, 
 On the gray cliff the sunbeams rest; 
 The sea beneath their radiance bright 
 Beams like an element of light, 
 And o'er the bosom of the deep 
 Soft sea winds in their freshness sweep: 
 These are not chang'd: 'tis I alone, 
 Thus musing here on joy foregone. 
 
 'Twas youth's enchanted ear that gave 
 Its music to the wind and wave ; 
 'Twas youth's charm'd eye that deck'd the scene, 
 That rob'd the Downs with fresher green, 
 And cast o'er all that broad bright sea 
 The spell of Nature's wizardry. 
 
 Yet — o'er the mirror of the mind 
 
 The beauteous visions pass, 
 And leave a lingering shade behind 
 As Memory holds her glass. 
 Once more I hail that golden time, 
 The brightness of my vernal prime, 
 When, as my step was passing o'er 
 The bound where youth and manhood meet, 
 And in my pulse ambition beat, 
 A lovely image came my charmed sight before. 
 y 2 
 
324 RETROSPECT. 
 
 O'er me a voice celestial stole, 
 That sooth'd the swelling of my soul : 
 It bad Ambition's turmoil cease, 
 It spake of paths that lead to peace, 
 Haunts where contented spirits dwell, 
 And bards that love the woodland dell, 
 Draw down in hallow'd solitude 
 High visions that the world exclude. 
 It spake of days that at their close 
 Sink into nights of calm repose, 
 And dreams of guiltless pleasure born, 
 That fly the opening lids of Morn. 
 It warned me that to man was given 
 A Being, form'd of earth and heaven, 
 That here the soul might undergo 
 Temptation, and the test of woe, 
 And in its passage to the tomb 
 Prepare, self-judg'd, its future doom. 
 It warn'd me that the vital breath, 
 That quickens here the seeds of death, 
 Teems with a life that ne'er shall die, 
 Whose birth is immortality — 
 It warned of life that shall recall 
 Earth's transitory interval, 
 And fix on scenes that pass'd below 
 Th' eternal seal of bliss or woe. 
 
RETROSPECT. 325 
 
 While thus the sounds like music stole, 
 And sooth'd the swelling of my soul, 
 Mary! methought thy voice I heard, 
 And thine the form that there appear'd. 
 
 " Yes — (I exclaim'd) 'twere sweet, 'twere blest, 
 " In woodland haunts with thee to rest, 
 " There nurse in hallow'd solitude 
 " High visions that the world exclude : 
 " So pass o'er earth's uncertain stage, 
 " And close in peace my pilgrimage." 
 
 If yet — one spot, one resting-place 
 
 Where Peace may build on earth her bow'r, 
 And in its hallow'd haunt retrace 
 
 A dream of Eden's blissful hour, 
 'Tis in that sole that sacred spot 
 
 Where Innocence and Woman dwell : 
 'Tis in that heart which, wavering not, 
 
 Believes what God has deign'd to tell, 
 And anchoring its Hope above, 
 Passes o'er earth in sinless love — 
 Such, Mary ! thy unsullied heart, 
 And such the spot where'er thou art. 
 
 'Twas not th' unfolding of the rose 
 That in the cheek's fresh vermeil glows ; 
 
326 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Not Health, whose fragrant lip exhales 
 
 The breath it stole from morning gales ; 
 
 Not the smooth front, as spotless fair, 
 
 As chaste as Guido's angel air; 
 
 Nor the blue eye that brighter far 
 
 And steadier than Eve's herald star, 
 
 That passes lonely o'er the Deep 
 
 When Ocean rests in summer sleep : 
 
 It was not these that touch'd my heart, 
 
 And held me from the world apart : 
 
 'Twas the pure soul that glow'd within, 
 
 'Twas Innocence that thought no sin, 
 
 'Twas Fancy, whose keen glance, unsated, 
 
 Beam'd on a world herself created, 
 
 And, like the sun that pours alone 
 
 The beauteous light it looks upon, 
 
 Embeilish'd every form it view'd, 
 
 And its own charm in all pursu'd. 
 
 'Twas more than these : 'twas fearless youth, 
 
 Whose guardian was celestial truth; 
 
 'Twas instinct that, like lightning, caught 
 
 The slow result of patient thought ; 
 
 'Twas quick sensation, that convey'd 
 
 The answer that the lip delay'd: 
 
 Twas the first thought that spoke the soul, 
 
 Nor sought reflection's slow controul; 
 
 
RETROSPECT. 327 
 
 Twas force with gentleness combin'd, 
 
 Mildness of heart with strength of mind, 
 
 And Virtue, to itself severe, 
 
 That gave to woe — to sin — a tear: — 
 
 These were the charms that chain'd my heart, 
 
 And held me from the world apart. 
 
 And yet I knew not at that hour 
 The influence of thy gentle pow'r : 
 I deem'd not that the future day 
 Would still some latent grace display, 
 Some virtue more and more reveal, 
 That youth and beauty half conceal : 
 That when affliction's keenest dart 
 Pierc'd with domestic wound my heart, 
 Thy gentle spirit would sustain 
 My soul, and lead to peace again, 
 Teach me to bear the trial grief, 
 And in submission find relief. 
 
 Mary ! I led thee to a plain 
 Where Hanton meets the Southern main, 
 And bids the enchanted eye survey, 
 Throughout the windings of her bay, 
 Scenes such as charm the midland sea, 
 Thy bow'rs of bliss, Parthenope ! 
 
328 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Yet here the forests wider sweep, 
 And on the margin of the deep 
 The broad oak, shadowing o'er the main, 
 Spreads, conscious of its future reign. 
 Lovelier than Caprea's rocky head, 
 Green Vectis from her ocean bed 
 Lifts to the sun her beauteous form, 
 And, mid-way, meets the billowy storm. 
 The abbey here, 'mid pathless groves, 
 Breathes of the peace Religion loves ; 
 Nor wanting to enchant the eye 
 Proud wrecks of ancient chivalry, 
 Castles that climb the steep ascent, 
 Bold as St. Elmo's battlement. 
 Turret, and fort, on Time's gray wall, 
 Whose shades along the sea-line fall, 
 Nor gardens that, like Chaia, shed 
 Their bloom on Ocean's azure bed. 
 
 There, in thy youth, thy beauty's flow'r, 
 Mary ! for thee I deck'd the bow'r, 
 And woo'd the Muse to haunt the grove, 
 Sacred to Peace and wedded Love. 
 
 Be witness, thou, how peaceful pass'd 
 Our years, each happier than the last, 
 
RETROSPECT. 329 
 
 While bloom'd around us in that grove 
 The fruits and pledges of our love, 
 And hope with each new day arose, 
 And soothing visions blest its close. 
 
 Mary ! thou inly sigh'dst farewell, 
 And thy mute tear in secret fell, 
 When from those bow'rs, that southern strand, 
 I led thee to my native land, 
 A region where the eastern gale 
 Cuts with rude breath the flow'ry vale: — 
 Yet — soft the hills, and rich the meads 
 Where Lea his silvery windings leads, 
 Or bursts, by wintery torrents fed, 
 O'er the low level of his bed, 
 And spreads round Waltham's Saxon fane 
 Floods that new-robe the pastur'd plain. 
 
 I led thee to a forest glade, 
 A green isle girt around with shade, 
 W T oods where of old, with hound and horn, 
 The Norman hunter woke the morn : 
 Where yet along the grassy lawn 
 At dim of eve, and gray of dawn, 
 The deer his silent way pursues, 
 And prints his hoof in treacherous dews. 
 
330 RETROSPECT. 
 
 The Keeper's lodge, our summer seat, 
 A wild, sequester'd, still retreat : 
 Where each new day but more endears 
 Some vestige of my earliest years, 
 Some favorite spot in grove and glade, 
 Where in wild woods my childhood stray'd. 
 
 Are these the haunts where stray'd the child 
 Thro' thorny brakes 'mid woodlands wild ? 
 How chang'd the scene ! With fond delay 
 The woodman, lingering on his way, 
 Asks the cold soil, and clay-bound earth, 
 What magic hand has chang'd its birth, 
 Or art — if art, in that recess — 
 Has tam'd the forest wilderness ? 
 
 Mary ! thy hand has touch'd that place, 
 And o'er it cast an added grace, 
 That oak, that elm, that beech are thine, 
 Those bow'rs that breathe of eglantine : 
 It was thy hand that rear'd my grove, 
 And lin'd with moss the seat I love, 
 Entic'd the ivy twine that weaves 
 O'er the thatch'd roof its glossy leaves, 
 Shap'd each gay plot that decks the scene, 
 Varied my walk their flow'rs between ; 
 
RETROSPECT. 
 
 And from Italia's fragrant shore 
 Gay shrubs to deck my dwelling bore. 
 Thou bad'st the myrtle scent the gale 
 With sweets that breath'd on Arno's vale, 
 Woo'dst gentlest Zephyrs to awake 
 The flow'rs that glow'd on Como's lake, 
 And Britain's boldest suns illume 
 The Passtan rose's double bloom. 
 
 Ah ! ere shall pass another age 
 What foot will haunt our hermitage ? 
 Who — of thy flow'rets, ere they fall, 
 Will wreathe one grateful coronal ? 
 "W ho ? From yon mansion's statelier bow'rs 
 At vernal tide, at sun-set hours, 
 Our children's children shall retrace 
 Our path round that deserted place : 
 Now down the rude romantic dell, 
 Where one bold oak o'erhangs the well, 
 Now thro' the leafy labyrinths stray, 
 Now thro' the thick fern force their way, 
 Or where the woods afar recede, 
 Pursue it on the level mead, 
 Around our lone and little lake, 
 Where the deer loves his thirst to slake, 
 When Summer on the sparkling stream 
 Darts the broad sunshine's noon-day beam. 
 
332 RETROSPECT. 
 
 If there no lingering trace be found, 
 
 All pass away, all change around, 
 
 That little lake no more supply 
 
 A mirror to the starry sky, 
 
 If the unsparing axe invade 
 
 Each sacred bow'r that guards our glade, 
 
 May one, one monument remain, 
 
 The patriarch of the woodland plain! 
 
 Long may it tow'r that Druid oak, 
 
 That whilom felt the woodman's stroke, 
 
 Then, as disdainful of the blow, 
 
 Drove its gnarl'd roots more deep below ; 
 
 And proudlier to the tempest spread 
 
 An ampler girt, a broader head. 
 
 There, underneath its brow that rears 
 
 The burden of a thousand years, 
 
 Beneath the arms whose branch of yore 
 
 The quiver of the Norman bore, 
 
 And heard the twanging of the yew, 
 
 When Harold's shaft like lightning flew : 
 
 There shall our children's children trace 
 
 Some feature that endears the place : 
 
 Picture anew the hunter's cot, 
 
 Thy favourite glade, my peaceful grot, 
 
 And, tracing each familiar spot, 
 
 Tell of the lady who array'd 
 
 With flow'r and fruit the woodland glade ; 
 

 RETROSPECT. 333 
 
 While her own grace to Nature lent 
 A temper'd, chaste embellishment. 
 And tell of him, who in these bow'rs 
 Gave to ,the Muse his summer hours, 
 Now tun'd to British chords the strain 
 "Whose sweetness charm'd the Mantuan swain, 
 Wound Oberon's horn, or boldly woo'd 
 Th' Athenian Muse with blood embru'd, 
 When Frenzy, as the murd'ress pray'd, 
 Sheath'd in a mother's breast the blade : 
 Now track'd along the Alpine snow 
 The victim of remorse and woe : 
 Now wept th' imperial heir who fell 
 By murder in Ladoga's cell, 
 Or, glorying in his country's fame, 
 Hymn'd Paeans to a Nelson's name. 
 
 While underneath that gloom profound 
 They look on our enchanted ground : 
 Be their's the peace that once was our's, 
 Bliss that once dwelt within those bow'rs : 
 When in the blossom of their May 
 Our children, in life's holiday, 
 When the full moon, at magic hour, 
 Shot thro' the leaves a spangled show'r, 
 Trac'd on the dew-empearled glade 
 Fresh rings that fairy feet betray'd ! 
 
334 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Or they themselves, like fays at sport, 
 Made that lone spot our elfine court, 
 Laid the fresh garland at our feet, 
 The thymy bloom and meadow sweet ; 
 Or for our beverage gather'd up 
 A dew-drop in each acorn cup ; # 
 Then girt our moss-throne, hand in hand, 
 And we were Lords of Fairy-land. 
 
 Is there a poignant woe that lends 
 
 To Death a keener dart, 
 And with unerring vigour sends 
 
 The weapon to the heart, 
 The heart that, brooding o'er its grief, 
 Steals not from Time a late relief? 
 
 'Tis when Death, passing o'er the sire, 
 
 Has youth untimely slain: 
 .When they, who should have breath, expire, 
 
 They, who should die, remain, 
 And feel — how dire in that reverse — 
 Man's mortal sin, Death's penal curse ! 
 
 Where now the hand that lock'd in ours 
 
 So fast, so fondly clung ? 
 Where now the lip, whose mimic pow'rs 
 
 But echo'd back our tongue ? 
 
RETROSPECT. 335 
 
 The eye that brighten'd at our sight ? 
 Cold — voiceless — clos'd in utter night ! 
 
 Ah ! where art thou, my Elder-born ? 
 Thou, on whose natal morn 
 The voice that spake thy birth, 
 Bad me look up from earth ; 
 
 " The shade of Death has pass'd thy threshold o'er : 
 " The tear is turn'd to gladness : mourn no more." 
 
 And was the tear to gladness turn'd ? 
 Ah ! had I then thy doom discern'd, 
 Had Heav'n the page of life unseaTd, 
 Had Time his awful form reveal'd, 
 And rent the veil of darkness, thrown 
 In mercy o'er the dread unknown, 
 Ah! what had been a father's pray'r? 
 But Hope had spread his rainbow there, 
 And brighten'd to the beaming eye 
 The vision of futurity. 
 
 Where now th' enchanting vision, the fair dream ? 
 Gone, like the rainbow gleam, 
 That in its splendour vanisheth : 
 Dark as the solar beam, 
 That in the fullness of its light 
 Suffers eclipse ere sunk in night. 
 
336 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Thus, thou wert doom'd to death, 
 And in the brightness of thy day, 
 In life's meridian course its glory pass'd away. 
 
 Its glory! — for thy Spirit was endu'd 
 With quick and keen intelligence, 
 That with an eagle eye pursu'd 
 Thro' the dim veil that clouds the outward sense, 
 In all, whate'er it view'd, 
 Its essence, and its soul, 
 And seiz'd with eagle grasp the undivided whole. 
 
 Thee, pure Ilyssus rear'd, and the fair stream 
 Which fed the bow'rs of Academe : 
 Thee, Anio rushing down its rocks amain ; 
 And the slow wind of waters, whose soft gliding, 
 The trembling reeds dividing, 
 Freshens the Mantuan plain : 
 And all in after time, 
 Of rich-inwoven rhyme, 
 That borne down Arno to the Tuscan sea, 
 Varies the voice of melody: 
 And all that Danube in his wanderings fed, 
 Or Tajo's golden bed. 
 
 But — neither these 
 
RETROSPECT. 337 
 
 Avail'd thee, nor thy spirit unsubdu'd, 
 
 And more than martial fortitude, 
 
 That call'd thee from the couch of slow disease, 
 
 Thee, inly worn with undivulged pain, 
 
 To combat on the battle-plain, 
 
 Where Britain, resolute to shield 
 
 Her honour, on Corunna's field, 
 
 The hydra crest of Gallia quell'd, 
 
 Turn'd back the battle as it swell'd, 
 
 Then, o'er brave Moore's heroic bed 
 
 The tear that mourn'd her victory shed. 
 
 Not on Corunna's fatal plain 
 Thou slept'st untimely slain. 
 We hail'd thee on thy native shore, 
 And health and joy seem'd thine once more : 
 So thought we — fondly thought — nor knew 
 Thy days were number'd — sad — and few. 
 We fondly thought 'twas health that bloom'd, 
 When fatal fires thy cheek illum'd. 
 'Twas but the pause of death that made 
 More keen the blow which hope betray 'd. 
 
 Ah ! if ere earthly pray'r had pow'r 
 To ward the inevitable hour, 
 A mother, bending o'er thy brow, 
 z 
 
338 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Has fenc'd the mortal agony, 
 
 Nor in the prime of manhood thou 
 
 Hadst sunk beneath a father's eye : 
 
 Ah, if a sister's love might save, . 
 
 Thou ne'er hadst known th' untimely grave. 
 
 Thou art not — such the will of heav'n : — 
 To us, yet left, one solace giv'n, 
 That not at life's last close, 
 Not on a far and foreign land 
 Thine the vain wish to touch some kindred hand, 
 And on a kindred breast thy wearied brow repose. 
 
 Thy brow was pillow'd on the breast 
 Where thou wert laid in infant rest ; 
 While yet a spark of life remain' d, 
 While yet thy heart a beat retain'd, 
 We o'er thee hung, and, soothing, heard 
 The solace of thy farewell word. 
 'Twas mine — a father's hand that paid 
 The last sad rites where thou art laid ; 
 'Twas mine — the hand that blest thy birth, 
 Entomb'd thee in thy native earth, 
 And there, uplifted unto God, 
 Left a last blessing on thy sod. 
 
RETROSPECT. 339 
 
 Ah ! Mary ! would that such had been 
 The closing of that fatal scene, 
 When, while we wept our First-born dead, 
 Again the bitter tear we shed, 
 As o'er another in his bloom 
 Untimely clos'd a foreign tomb — 
 Would that we, too, had had the pow'r 
 To calm, my Child ! thy mortal hour ! 
 Would that the voice once wont to steep 
 Thy earliest moan in tranquil sleep, 
 Had at thy latest pang been found 
 To soothe th' immedicable wound ! 
 Ah ! had we seen thee breathe thy last, 
 So had to heav'n thy spirit pass'd, 
 The peaceful stillness of thy smile 
 Would now a mother's woe beguile, 
 With her thy last, last word would dwell : 
 A mother's solace — thy " Farewell." 
 
 Thou, whose firm footstep walk'd in youth 
 With honour and immortal truth, 
 Whose boundless energy of mind 
 Compass'd what daring Hope design'd, 
 Now search'd the Hebrew's sacred roll, 
 Fathom'd the depth of Plato's soul, 
 z 2 
 
340 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Grasp'd the wide scope of Tully's lore, 
 
 Rang'd all the western region o'er, 
 
 Cull'd from the East what brightest glow'd, 
 
 Each gem of Hafez' sparkling ode, 
 
 All that in Mecca's dome uphung, 
 
 The honey of Arabia's tongue, 
 
 Retrac'd, on Persia's steel-clad plain, 
 
 A Homer in Ferdousi's strain, 
 
 And where hoar Time o'er India threw 
 
 The Shanscrit veil, its fold withdrew : 
 
 Such — such thy mastery of mind — 
 
 Thy heart — how warm — how true — how kind ! 
 
 If ere Simplicity imprest 
 The seal of Truth on human breast ; 
 If ever Friendship rais'd a shrine 
 In human bosom — 'twas in thine : 
 If ever kindness kindness mov'd, 
 Thou, thou wert born to be belov'd. 
 
 My Child ! thy youth our morning blest, 
 And clos'd each eve in peaceful rest, 
 But far from us thy manhood past : — 
 Ah — far from us thou breath'dst thy last. 
 
 Yet still, where'er thy doom to roam, 
 Thy heart was in thy father's home. 
 
RETROSPECT. 341 
 
 T know, my Child ! when o'er thee came 
 
 The agony that loos'd thy frame, 
 
 That — 'mid these scenes, once wont to bless 
 
 Thy dawn, thy dream of happiness, 
 
 We hung on thy departing breath, 
 
 Our woe — thy bitterness of death. 
 
 Hadst thou return'd, ere sunk our day, 
 Ere pass'd our light of life away, 
 How had the brightness of thy beam 
 Cast round our eve a golden gleam : 
 How had our age on thee repos'd, 
 And thy kind hand our eyelid clos'd. 
 Shade of the Valiant, and the Wise! 
 On thee thy country's blessing lies ; 
 But never shall these eyes behold 
 The trophied tomb that guards thy mould : 
 Ne'er view o'ershadowing Glory wave 
 A hero's banner o'er thy grave ; 
 But there, thro' many a distant age, 
 The Briton, on his pilgrimage, 
 Shall, pointing where thy relics lie, 
 Learn — how to live — and how — to die — 
 How — die ! — the chord is snap'd in twain — 
 No father's hand can touch that strain — 
 There is a grief earth cannot close : 
 Soothe, God of Heav'n ! a mother's woes. 
 
342 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Yet — unto us remain 
 Thoughts that the soul sustain ; 
 Memory, that dwelling on the dead, 
 Hallows the tear we shed. 
 We may not grieve, like those of hope bereft, 
 We are not childless left. 
 
 There is a light which can illume 
 Age leaning on the tomb : 
 Thy light, oh, filial Love ! dispels the gloom — 
 There is a smile upon the lip of death, 
 When on the filial breast, 
 Age, laid in peaceful rest, 
 
 Yields up, in blessing yields, his farewell breath. — 
 Mary ! our lip shall that last smile retain ; 
 And thou, Redeemer ! God of Love, 
 Deign to unite, in realms above, 
 With those on earth once blest, our souls in bliss 
 again ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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