Not such the initiatory strains
Committed to the silent plains
In Britain's earliest dawn:
Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale,
While all-too-daringly the veil
Of nature was withdrawn !
Nor such the spirit-stirring note
When the live chords Alcæus smote,
Inflamed by sense of wrong;
Woe! woe to Tyrants! from the lyre
Broke threateningly, in sparkles dire
Of fierce vindictive song.
And not unhallowed was the page
By winged Love inscribed, to assuage
The pangs of vain pursuit ;
Love listening while the Lesbian Maid
With finest touch of passion swayed
Her own Æolian lute.
O ye who patiently explore
The wreck of Herculanean lore,
What rapture ! could ye seize
Some Theban fragment, or unrol
One precious, tender-hearted scroll
Simonides.
That were, indeed, a genuine birth
Of poesy; a bursting forth
Of genius from the dust :
What Horace gloried to behold,
What Maro loved, shall we enfold?
Can haughty Time be just !
COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE CATHOLIC
DOOMED as we are our native dust
To wet with many a bitter shower,
It ill befits us to disdain
The altar, to deride the fane,
Where simple Sufferers bend, in trust
To win a happier hour.
I love, where spreads the village lawn,
Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze :
Hail to the firm unmoving cross,
Aloft, where pines their branches toss !
And to the chapel far withdrawn,
That lurks by lonely ways!
Where'er we roam-along the brink
Of Rhine-or by the sweeping Po,
Through Alpine vale, or champain wide,
Whate'er we look on, at our side
Be Charity?—to bid us think,
And feel, if we would know.
THE ECLIPse of the SUN, 1820.
HIGH on her speculative tower
Stood Science waiting for the hour
When Sol was destined to endure
That darkening of his radiant face
Which Superstition strove to chase,
Erewhile, with rites impure.
Afloat beneath Italian skies,
Through regions fair as Paradise
We gaily passed,―till Nature wrought
A silent and unlooked-for change,
That checked the desultory range
Of joy and sprightly thought.
Where'er was dipped the toiling oar,
The waves danced round us as before,
As lightly, though of altered hue,
Mid recent coolness, such as falls
At noontide from umbrageous walls
That screen the morning dew.
No vapour stretched its wings; no cloud
Cast far or near a murky shroud;
The sky an azure field displayed;
'Twas sunlight sheathed and gently charmed, Of all its sparkling rays disarmed, And as in slumber laid,―
Or something night and day between,
Like moonshine-but the hue was green;
Still moonshine, without shadow, spread
On jutting rock, and curvèd shore,
Where gazed the peasant from his door,
And on the mountain's head.
It tinged the Julian steeps-it lay,
Lugano on thy ample bay;
The solemnizing veil was drawn
O'er villas, terraces, and towers;
To Albogasio's olive bowers,
Porlezza's verdant lawn.
But Fancy with the speed of fire
Hath past to Milan's loftiest spire,
And there alights 'mid that aërial host
Of Figures human and divine,
White as the snows of Apennine
Indúrated by frost.
Awe-stricken she beholds the array
That guards the Temple night and day ;
Angels she sees-that might from heaven have flown, And Virgin-saints, who not in vain
Have striven by purity to gain
The beatific crown-
Sees long-drawn files, concentric rings
Each narrowing above each ;—the wings,
The uplifted palms, the silent marble lips,
The starry zone of sovereign height-
All steeped in this portentous light!
All suffering dim eclipse!
Thus after Man had fallen (if aught
These perishable spheres have wrought
May with that issue be compared)
Throngs of celestial visages,
Darkening like water in the breeze,
A holy sadness shared.
Lo! while I speak, the labouring Sun
His glad deliverance has begun :
The cypress waves her sombre plume
More cheerily; and town and tower,
The vineyard and the olive-bower,
Their lustre re-assume!
O Ye, who guard and grace my home
While in far-distant lands we roam,
Was such a vision given to you?
Or while we looked with favoured eyes,
Did sullen mists hide lake and skies
And mountains from your view?
Or was it given you to behold
Like vision, pensive though not cold,
From the smooth breast of gay Winandermere ?
Saw ye the soft yet awful veil
Spread over Grasmere's lovely dale,
Helvellyn's brow severe ?
I ask in vain-and know far less
If sickness, sorrow, or distress
Have spared my Dwelling to this hour;
Sad blindness! but ordained to prove
Our faith in Heaven's unfailing love
And all-controlling power.
WHAT beast of chase hath broken from the cover?
Stern GEMMI listens to as full a cry,
As multitudinous a harmony
Of sounds as rang the heights of Latmos over,
When, from the soft couch of her sleeping Lover
Up-starting, Cynthia skimmed the mountain-dew
In keen pursuit-and gave, where'er she flew,
Impetuous motion to the Stars above her.
A solitary Wolf-dog, ranging on
Through the bleak concave, wakes this wondrous chime
Of aëry voices locked in unison,-
Faint-far-off-near-deep-solemn and sublime !—
So, from the body of one guilty deed,
A thousand ghostly fears, and haunting thoughts, proceed!
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