-Alas! that one thus disciplined could toil
To enslave whole nations on their native soil;
So emulous of Macedonian fame,

That, when his age was measured with his aim,
He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories,
And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs;
O weakness of the great! O folly of the wise!

;

Where now the haughty Empire that was spread With such fond hope? her very speech is dead ; Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies, And Trajan still, through various enterprise, Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies: Still are we present with the imperial Chief, Nor cease to gaze upon the bold relief Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined, Becomes with all her years a vision of the mind.

SEPTEMBER 1819.

DEPARTING Summer hath assumed

An aspect tenderly illumed,

The gentlest look of Spring;

That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.

No faint and hesitating trill—
Such tribute as to Winter chill
The lonely Redbreast pays!
Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays.

Nor doth the example fail to cheer
Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
And yellow on the bough :-

Fall, rosy garlands, from my head!

Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed Around a younger brow!

Yet will I temperately rejoice;

Wide is the range, and free the choice
Of undiscordant themes;

Which, haply, kindred souls may prize
Not less than vernal ecstasies,

And passion's feverish dreams.

For deathless powers to verse belong,
And they like Demigods are strong
On whom the Muses smile;

But some their function have disclaimed.
Best pleased with what is aptliest framed
To enervate and defile.

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Of nature was withdrawn !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 unroll
One precious, tender-hearted scroll
Of pure 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 unfold?

Can haughty Time be just?

ODE TO LYCORIS.

MAY 1817.

I.

AN age hath been when Earth was proud
Of lustre too intense

To be sustained; and mortals bowed
The front in self-defence.

Who then, if Dian's crescent gleamed,
Or Cupid's sparkling arrow streamed
While on the wing the urchin played,
Could fearlessly approach the shade?
-Enough for one soft vernal day,
If I, a bard of ebbing time,
And nurtured in a fickle clime,
May haunt this horned bay;
Whose amorous water multiplies
The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes;
And smooths her liquid breast-to show
These swan-like specks of mountain snow,
White as the pair that slid along the plains
Of Heaven, when Venus held the reins!

II.

In youth we love the darksome lawn
Brushed by the owlet's wing;

Then, Twilight is preferred to Dawn,
And Autumn to the Spring.

Sad fancies do we then affect,

In luxury of disrespect
To our own prodigal excess
Of too familiar happiness.
Lycoris (if such name befit

Thee, thee my life's celestial sign !)
When Nature marks the year's decline,
Be ours to welcome it;

Pleased with the harvest hope that runs
Before the path of milder suns;

Pleased while the sylvan world displays

Its ripeness to the feeding gaze;

Pleased when the sullen winds resound the knell

Of the resplendent miracle.

III.

But something whispers to my heart

That, as we downward tend,

Lycoris! life requires an art
To which our souls must bend;
A skill-to balance and supply;
And, ere the flowing fount be dry,
As soon it must, a sense to sip,
Or drink, with no fastidious lip.
Then welcome, above all, the Guest

Whose smiles, diffused o'er land and sea,

Seem to recall the Deity

Of youth into the breast:

May pensive Autumn ne'er present

A claim to her disparagement!

While blossoms and the budding spray
Inspire us in our own decay;

Still, as we nearer draw to life's dark goal,

Be hopeful Spring the favourite of the soul!