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Calais, Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind,
August, 1802 Or what is it that ye go forth to see?

Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low degree,
Men known, and men unknowrı, sick, lame, and

blind,
Post forward all, like creatures of one kind,
With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the knee
In France, before the new-born Majesty.
'Tis ever thus. Ye men of prostrate mind,
A seemly reverence may be paid to power ;
But that's a loyal virtue, never sown
In haste, nor springing with a transient shower:
When truth, when sense, when liberty were down,
What hardship had it been to wait an hour ?
Shame on you, feeble Heads, to slavery prone !

On the Road Jones ! as from Calais southward you and I leading to Went pacing side by side, this public Way Ardres Streamed with the

pomp

of a too-credulous day, Aug. 7, 1802

When faith was pledged to new-born Liberty :
A homeless sound of joy was in the sky:
From hour to hour the antiquated Earth,
Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, mirth,
Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh!
And now, sole register that these things were,
Two solitary greetings have I heard,
Good morrow, Citizen !a hollow word,
As if a dead man spake it !

Yet despair
Touches me not, though pensive as a bird
Whose vernal coverts winter hath laid bare.

I GRIEVED for Buonaparté, with a vain

The training And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood of a good Of that Man's mind—what can it be? what food

ruler Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could be gain? May 21, 1802 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

be gay!

FESTIVALS have I seen that were not names : Calais,
This is young Buonaparté’s natal day,

August 15, And his is henceforth an established sway

1802
Consul for life. With worship France proclaims
Her approbation, and with pomps and games.
Heaven grant that other Cities may
Calais is not: and I have bent my way
To the sea-coast, noting that each man frames
His business as he likes. Far other show
My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time;
The senselessness of joy was then sublime !
Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope,
Consul, or King, can sound himself to know
The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

On the Ex- Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee ;

tinction of And was the safeguard of the west: the worth the Venetian

Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Republic
1802 Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final day :
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great, is passed away.

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The King of The Voice of song from distant lands shall call
Sweden To that great King: shall hail the crowned Youth
1802 Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth,

By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall,
If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend ?
And what to him and his shall be the end?
That thought is one which neither can appal
Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath done
The thing which ought to be; is raised above
All consequences: work he hath begun
Of fortitude, and piety, and love,
Which all his glorious ancestors approve :
The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.

Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men ! To TousWhether the whistling Rustic tend his plough

saint

L'Ouverture Within thy hearing, or thy head be now

1802
Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den ;
O miserable Chieftain! where and when
Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies ;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man's unconquerable mind.

We had a female Passenger who came

After the From Calais with us, spotless in array,–

expulsion of A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay,

negroes from

France Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame ;

September 1, Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim 1802 She sate, from notice turning not away, But on all proffered intercourse did lay A weight of languid speech, or to the same No sign of answer made by word or face : Yet still those eyes retained their tropic fire, That, burning independent of the mind, Joined with the lustre of her rich attire To mock the Outcast.-Oye Heavens, be kind ! And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race !

In the Valley Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more.

near Dover Thecock that crows,the smoke that curls,that sound Aug. 30, 1802 Of bells;-those boys who in yon meadow-ground

In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar
Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore ;-
All, all are English. Oft have I looked round
With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found
Myself so satisfied in heart before.
Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
Thought for another moment. Thou art free,
My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride
For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass
Of England once again, and hear and see,
With such a dear Companion at my

side.

Near Dover, INLAND, within a hollow vale, I stood;
September And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,
1802
The coast of France-the coast of France how

near!
Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,
A
span
of waters ; yet

what
power

is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity;
Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul
Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

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