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Now joy, old England, raise
By the festal cities' blaze,
Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died
While the billow mournful rolls
ODE TO DUTY
O Duty ! if that name thou love
To check the erring, and reprove ; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe,
From vain temptations dost set free, And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity ! There are who ask not if thine eye
Be on them ; who, in love and truth Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts | without reproach or blot, Who do thy work, and know it not :
O! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around
Serene will be our days and bright,
And happy will our nature be,
And joy its own security.
Live in the spirit of this creed,
No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust : And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd
The task, in smoother walks to stray ; But thee I now would serve more strict)y, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul
Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control,
But in the quietness of thought : Me this uncharter'd freedom tires ; I feel the weight of chance desires :
My hopes no more must change their name; I long for a repose that ever is the same. Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, And fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are
fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee : I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour ;
O let my weakness have an end !
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The confidence of reason give ;
209 ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind !
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art
For there thy habitation is the heart The heart which love of Thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd,
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place
And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod, 10 Until his very steps have left a trace
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
One of the Mountains, each a mighty voice : In both from age to age thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen music, Liberty ! There came a tyrant, and with holy glee Thou fought'st against him,—but hast vainly
striven : Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven, Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, 13 And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee !
ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee,
And was the safeguard of the West ; the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
No guile seduced, no force could violate
And when she took unto herself a mate,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay,Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reach'd its final day : Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
LONDON, MDCCCII O Friend ! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest
To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook,
Or groom !We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest;
The wealthiest man among us is the best :
This is idolatry; and these we adore :
The homely beauty of the good old cause
England hath need of thee : she is a fen
Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men :
O! raise us up, return to us again ;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,
So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great nations ; how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold,—some fears unnamed