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Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars Composed by
Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled the side of
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars ;
Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
At happy distance from earth's groaning field,
Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
Is it a mirror ?-or the nether Sphere
Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires ?-_But list ! a voice is near ;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the
“ Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here !”
Go back to
Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities !
Go back and see the tower of Babel rise ;
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act,
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute-
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked !
Nature Not 'mid the World's vain objects that enslave inspires The free-born Soul--that World whose vaunted faith in the
skill triumph of Right
In selfish interest perverts the will,
1808 Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave-
Not there ; but in dark wood and rocky cave,
And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill
With omnipresent murmur as they rave
Down their steep beds, that never shall be still :
Here, mighty Nature ! in this school sublime
I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain ;
For her consult the auguries of time,
And through the human heart explore my way ;
And look and listen-gathering, whence I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.
My plea for I DROPPED my pen ; and listened to the Wind
Spain shall That sang of trees up-torn and vessels tost-
find some A midnight harmony; and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Of business, care, or pleasure ; or resigned
To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain,
Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,
Like acceptation from the World will find.
Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink
A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past;
And to the attendant promise will give heed—
The prophecy,- like that of this wild blast,
Which, while it makes the heart with sadness
Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.
Of mortal parents is the Hero born
By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led ? 1809
Or is it Tell's great Spirit, from the dead
Returned to animate an age forlorn ?
He comes like Phoebus through the gates of morn
When dreary darkness is discomfited,
Yet mark his modest state ! upon
That simple crest, a heron's plume, is worn.
O Liberty! they stagger at the shock
From van to rear—and with one mind would flee,
But half their host is buried :-rock on rock
Descends :-beneath this godlike Warrior, see !
Hills, torrents, woods, embodied to bemock
The Tyrant, and confound his cruelty.
ADVANCE —come forth from thy Tyrolean ground, Advance, Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed;
dear Liberty Sweet Nymph, Orightly of the mountains named : 1809 Through the long chain of Alps from mound to
And o'er the eternal snows, like Echo, bound;
Like Echo, when the hunter train at dawn
Have roused her from her sleep: and forest-lawn,
Cliffs, woods and caves, her viewless steps resound
And babble of her pastime !-On, dread Power !
With such invisible motion speed thyflight, [height,
Through hanging clouds, from craggy height to
Through the green vales and through the herds-
That all the Alps may gladden in thy might,
Here, there, and in all places at one hour.
Feelings of The Land we from our fathers had in trust, the Tyrolese And to our children will transmit, or die :
1809 This is our maxim, this our piety;
And God and Nature say that it is just.
That which we would perform in arms—we must !
We read the dictate in the infant's
In the wife's smile ; and in the placid sky;
And, at our feet, amid the silent dust
Of them that were before us.—Sing aloud
Old songs, the precious music of the heart !
Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wind !
While we go forth, a self-devoted crowd,
With weapons grasped in fearless hands, to assert
Our virtue, and to vindicate mankind.
Reason and Alas! what boots the long laborious quest Instinct Of moral prudence, sought through good and ill ; 1809
Or pains abstruse—to elevate the will,
And lead us on to that transcendent rest
Where every passion shall the sway attest
Of Reason, seated on her sovereign hill;
What is it but a vain and curious skill,
If sapient Germany must lie deprest,
Beneath the brutal sword ?-Her haughty Schools
Shall blush ; and may not we with sorrow say,
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules,
Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought
More for mankind at this unhappy day
Than all the pride of intellect and thought ?
And is it among rude untutored Dales,
There, and there only, that the heart is true ?
And, rising to repel or to subdue,
Is it by rocks and woods that man prevails ?
Ah no! though Nature's dread protection fails,
There is a bulwark in the soul. This knew
Iberian Burghers when the sword they drew
In Zaragoza, naked to the gales
Of fiercely-breathing war. The truth was felt
By Palafox, and many a brave compeer,
Like him of noble birth and noble mind;
By ladies, meek-eyed women without fear;
And wanderers of the street, to whom is dealt
The bread which without industry they find.
O’er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain, The brave Dwells in the affections and the soul of man
at last shall A Godhead, like the universal Pan;
triumph But more exalted, with a brighter train :
And shall his bounty be dispensed in vain,
Showered equally on city and on field,
And neither hope nor steadfast promise yield
In these usurping times of fear and pain?
Such doom awaits us. Nay, forbid it Heaven!
We know the arduous strife, the eternal laws
To which the triumph of all good is given,
High sacrifice, and labour without pause,
Even to the death:-else wherefore should the eye
Of man converse with immortality?