222 Do but more touchingly recal XXIV. IN LOMBARDY. SEE, where his difficult way that Old Man wins XXV. AFTER LEAVING ITALY. FAIR Land! Thee all men greet with joy; how few, Whose souls take pride in freedom, virtue, fame, Part from thee without pity dyed in shame : threw. Italia! on the surface of thy spirit, XXVI. CONTINUED. As indignation mastered grief, my tongue strong. Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning too, Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming For victories there won by flower-crowned Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum. XXVIII. THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN. WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds; -So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine; The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes Widespreading odours from her flowery wreaths. Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds' Supports, adorns, and over all presides; From honoured Instruments that round him wait; Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test 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; THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER LILY. [For the names and persons in the following poem, see the "History of the renowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table;" for the rest the Author is answerable; only it may be proper to add that the Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was suggested by the beautiful work of ancient art, once included among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum.] WHILE Merlin paced the Cornish sands, Of a bright Ship that seemed to hang in air, And took from men her name-THE WATER LILY. Soft was the wind, that landward blew ; And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant, Grows from a little edge of light To a full orb, this Pinnace bright More glorious, with spread sail and streaming pendant. Upon this wingèd Shape so fair Aught that was ever shown in magic glass; Or, at a touch, produced by happiest transfor The clouas in blacker clouds are lost, And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer Scourges. But worthy of the name she bore Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley; Of motion, whether in the embrace Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding; Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves And cannot spare the Thing he cherished: Ah! what avails that she was fair, Luminous, blithe, and debonair? The storm has stripped her of her leaves; The Lily floats no longer!-She hath perished. Grieve for her,-she deserves no less; So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature! No heart had she, no busy brain; Though loved, she could not love again; Though pitied, feel her own distress; Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature. Yet is there cause for gushing tears, So richly was this Galley laden; A fairer than herself she bore, And, in her struggles, cast ashore; A lovely One, who nothing hears Of wind or wave-a meek and guileless Maiden. Into a cave had Merlin fled From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered; And while, repentant all too late, In moody posture there he sate, He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head, A Visitant by whom these words were uttered; "On Christian service this frail Bark Sailed (hear me, Merlin!) under high protection, Though on her prow a sign of heathen power Was carved-a Goddess with a Lily flower, The old Egyptian's emblematic mark Of joy immortal and of pure affection. Her course was for the British strand; Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table And all will weep who there attend, Die through the blindness of thy malice!" That brought me down that sunless river, Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver, Must, when my part is done, be ready; And, if that fail, consult the Stars To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady." This scarcely spoken, she again Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop. On Nina, as she passed, with hopeful greeting. Of tortured hope and purpose shaken; Following the margin of a bay, Then Nina, stooping down, embraced, Sleep fell upon the air, and stilled the ocean. Of music opened, and there came a blending Offragrance, underived from earth, With gleams that owed not to the sun their birth, And that soft rustling of invisible wings Which Angels make, on works of love descend, ing. And Nina heard a sweeter voice Than if the Goddess of the flower had spoken: Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken." So cheered, she left that Island bleak, And, as they traversed the smooth brine, Shed, on the Slumberer's cold wan cheek Fleet was their course, and when they came Merlin, as fixed in thought he stood, He spake; and gliding into view Forth from the grotto's dimmest chamber Changed, as the pair approached the light, (Like clouds of sunset) into lucid amber Once more did gentle Nina lift The Princess, passive to all changes: The Birds with progress smooth and swift As thought, when through bright regions me mory ranges. Sage Merlin, at the Slumberer's side, Instructs the Swans their way to measure; And socn Caerleon's towers appeared, And notes of minstrelsy were heard From rich pavilions spreading wide, For some high day of long-expected pleasure. Awe-stricken stood both Knights and Dames Ere on firm ground the car alighted; Eftsoons astonishment was past, Р For in that face they saw the last, To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow: Where she by shipwreck had been thrown: Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow." "Though vast thy power, thy words are weak," " Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful; Dutiful Child, her lot how hard! Is this her piety's reward? Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek! O winds without remorse! O shore ungrateful! Rich robes are fretted by the moth; Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder; Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate A Father's sorrow for her fate? He will repent him of his troth; His brain will burn, his stout heart split asunder. Alas! and I have caused this woe: For, when my prowess from invading Neighbours Had freed his Realm, he plighted word That he would turn to Christ our Lord, And his dear Daughter on a Knight bestow Whom I should choose for love and matchless labours. Her birth was heathen; but a fence Of holy Angels round her hovered: A Lady added to my court For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered. Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her." "The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close To check this pious haste of erring duty. My books command me to lay bare What Bridegroom was for her ordained by And in my glass significants there are Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping. For this, approaching One by One, Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the Virgin; So, for the favoured One, the Flower bloom Once more: but, if unchangeable he If life departed be for ever gone, Some blest assurance, from this cloud May teach him to bewail his loss; Not with a grief that, like a vapour And melts; but grief devout that dure, And a perpetual growth secure Of purposes which no false thought cross, A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises. "So be it," said the King;-"anon, Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial; Knights, each in order as ye stand Step forth."-To touch the pallid hand Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won From Heaven or earth;-Sir Kaye had like denial. Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away; Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure; Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere He reached that ebon car, the bier Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay, Full thrice had crossed himself in meek composure. Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?) That overcame some not ungenerous Knights: |