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THE PAINS OF SLEEP.
RE on my bed my limbs I lay,
It bath not been my use to pray
But silently, by slow degrees,
But yester-night I prayed aloud
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
So two nights passed : the night's dismay Saddened and stunned the coming day. Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me Distemper's worst calamity. The third night, when my own loud scream Had waked me from the fiendish dream, O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild, I wept as I had been a child; And having thus by tears subdued My anguish to a milder mood, Such punishments, I said, were due To natures deepliest stained with sin,For aye entempesting anew The unfathomable hell within The horror of their deeds to view, To know and loathe, yet wish and do! Such griefs with such men well agree, But wherefore, wherefore fall on me? To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed.
FRANCE. AN ODE.
E Clouds! that far above me float and
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,
Have made a solemn music of the wind !
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound ! 0
ye loud Waves! and 0 ye Forests high!
And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
The spirit of divinest Liberty.
When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,
And with that oath, which smote air, earth and sea,
Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free,
Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band :
The Monarchs marched in evil day,
And Britain joined the dire array ;
Had swol'n the patriot emotion
To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance,
But blessed the pæans of delivered France,
“ And what," I said, “ though Blasphemy's loud scream
With that sweet music of deliverance strove !
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!" And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and
trembled, The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
When, insupportably advancing,
While timid looks of fury glancing,
Then I reproached my fears that would not flee;
Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams !
I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
From bleak Helvetia's icy cavern sent-
Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished,
With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes !
To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
A patriot-race to disinherit
And with inexpiable spirit
And patriot only in pernicious toils,
To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray ?