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(Mid which the May-thorn blends its blossoms white)
Where broad smooth stones jut out in mossy seats,
I rest and now have gain'd the topmost site.
Ah! what a luxury of landscape meets
My gaze! Proud Towers, and Cots more dear to me,
Elm-shadow'd Fields, and prospect-bounding Sea !
Deep sighs. my lonely heart i drop the tear:
Enchanting spot! O were my Sara here!


THE stream with languid murmur creeps,

In Lumin's flowery vale :
Beneath the dew the Lily weeps,

Slow-waving to the gale.
“Cease, restless gale!" it seems to say,

“ Nor wake me with thy sighing ! The honors of my vernal day

On rapid wing are flying.
“ Tomorrow shall the Traveller come

Who late beheld me blooming :
His searching eye shall vainly roam

The dreary vale of Lumin."
With eager gaze and wetted cheek

My wonted haunts along,
Thus, faithful Maiden! thou shalt seek

The Youth of simplest song.
But I along the breeze shall roll

The voice of feeble power;
And dwell, the moon-beam of thy soul,

In Slumber's nightly hour. ,

O PEACE! that on a lilied bank dost love
To rect Line head beneath an Olive Tree,
I would, that from the pinions of thy Dove
One quill withouten pain ypluck'd might be !
For O! I wish my Sara's frowns to flee,
And fain to her some soothing song would write,
Lest she lesent my rude discourtesy,
Who vowd to meet her ere the morning light,
Bat broke my plighted wordmah: false and recreant

Last night as I my weary head did pillow
With thoughts of my dissever'd Fair engrossid,
Chill Fancy droop'd wreathing herself with willow,
As though my breast entomb'd a pining ghost.
. From some blest couch, young Rapture's bridal

Rejected Slumber! hither wing thy way ;
But leave me with the matin hour, at most!
As night-closed Floweret to the orient ray,
My sad heart will expand, when I the Maid survey.”
But Love, who heard the silence of my thought,
Contrived a too successful wile, I ween:
And whisper'd to himself, with malice fraught,
- Too long our Slave the Darsel's smiles hath seen :
To-morrow shall he ken her alter'd mien!”
He spake, and ambush'd lay, till on my bed
The moming shot her dewy glances keen,
When as I'gan to lift my drowsy head-
• Now, Bard! I'll work thee woe!” the laughing

Elfin said.

THE COMPLAINT OF NINATHOMA How long will ye round me be swelling,

0 ye blue-tumbling waves of the Sea ? Not always in Caves was my dwelling,

Nor beneath the cold blast of the Tree.
Through the high-sounding halls of Cathlóma

In the steps of my beauty I stray'd;
The Warriors beheld Ninathoma,

And they blessed the white-bosom'd Maid!
A Ghost ! by my cavern it darted!

In moon-beams the Spirit was drestFor lovely appear the departed

When they visit the dreams of my rest! But, disturb’d by the Tempest's commotion,

Fleet the shadowy forms of DelightAh cease, thou shrill blast of the Ocean!

To howl through my Cavern by Night.

Sleep, softly-breathing God! his downy wing
Was flattering now, as quickly to depart;
When twang'd an arrow from Love's mystic string,

IMITATED FROM THE WELSH With pathless wound it pierced him to the heart.

IF, while my passion I impart, Was there some magic in the Elfin's dart ?

You deem my words untrue, Or did he strike my conch with wizard lance ?

O place your hand upon my heart,
For straight so fair a Form did upwards start

Feel how it throbs for you!
No fairer deck'd the Bowers of old Romance)
That Sleep enamour'd grew, nor moved from his

Ah no! reject the thoughtless claim,
sweet trance !

In pity to your lover!

That thrilling touch would aid the flame My Sara came, with gentlest look divine ;

It wishes to discover.
Sright shone her eye, yet tender was its beam:
I felt the pressure of her lip to mine!
Whispering we went, and Love was all our theme-
Lore pure and spotless, as at first, I deem,
lle sprang from Heaven! Such joys with Sleep did


An cease thy tears and Sobs, my little Life! That I the living Image of my Dream

I did but snatch away the unclasp'd Knife : Fondly forgot. Too late I woke, and sigh'd Some safer Toy will soon arrest thine eye, 0! how shall I behold mv Love at eventide !" And to quick Laughter change this peevish »

You roused each gentler sense As, sighing o'er the Blossom's bloom, Meek Evening wakes its soft perfumo

With viewless influence.

Poor Stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe,
Tutor'd by Pain each source of Pain to know!
Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire
Awake thy cager grasp and young desire ;
Alike the Good, the Ill offend thy sight,
And rouse the stormy sense of shrill affright!
Untaught, yet wise! 'mid all thy brief alarms
Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms,
Nesiling thy little face in that fond breast
Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!
Man's breathing Miniature ! thou makest me sigh-
A Babe art thou—and such a thing am I!
To anger rapid and as soon appeased,
For trifles mourning and by trifles pleased,
Break Friendship’s Mirror with a techy blow,
Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar


And hark, my Love! The sea-breeze moans
Through yon reft house! O'er rolling stones

In bold ambitious sweep,
The onward-surging tides supply
The silence of the cloudless sky

With mimic thunders deep.

Dark reddening from the channell’d Isle* (Where stands one solitary pile

Unslated by the blast)
The Watch-fire, like a sullen star
Twinkles to many a dozing Tar

Rude cradled on the mast.

O thou that rearest with celestial aim
The future Seraph in my mortal frame,
Thrice-holy Faith! whatever thorns I meet
As on I toiter with unpractised feet,
Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee,
Meek Nurse of Souls through their long Infancy!

Even there— beneath that light-house tower-
In the tumultuous evil hour

Ere Peace with Sara came,
Time was, I should have thought it sweet
To count the echoings of my feet,

And watch the storm-vex'd flame.

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But why with sable wand unbless'd
Should Fancy rouse within my breast

Dim-visaged shapes of Dread ?
Untenanting its beauteous clay
My Sara's soul has wing'd its way,

And hovers round my head !
I felt it prompt the tender Dream,
When slowly sunk the day's last gleam;

The tears that tremble down your cheek, Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek

The Holmes, in the Bristol Channe.

In Pity's dew divine ;

Despised Galilæan! For the Great
And from your heart the sighs that steal Invisible (by symbols only seen)
Shall make your rising bosom feel

With a peculiar and surpassing light
The answering swell of mine!

Shines from the visage of the oppress'd good Man

When heedless of himself the scourged Saint How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet

Mourns for the Oppressor. Fair the vernal Mead. I paint the moment we shall meet!

Fair the high Grove, the Sea, the Sun, the Stars, With eager speed I dart

True impress each of their creating Sire! I seize you in the vacant air,

Yet nor high Grove, nor many-color'd Mead,
And fancy, with a Husband's care

Nor the green Ocean with his thousand Isles,
I press you to my heart !

Nor the starr'd Azure, nor the sovran Sun, "T is said, on Summer's evening hour E'er with such majesty of portraiture Flashes the golden-color'd flower

Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate,
A fair electric flame :

As thou, meek Savior! at the fearful hour
And so shall flash my love-charged eye

When thy insulted Anguish wing’d the prayer When all the heart's big ecstasy

Harp'd by Archangels, when they sing of Mercy! Shoots rapid through the frame!

Which when the Almighty heard from forth his

Diviner light fillid Heaven with ecstasy!

Heaven's hymnings paused and Hell her yawning


Closed a brief moment.

Lovely was the death AWAY, those cloudy looks, that laboring sigh,

Of Him whose life was love! Holy with power The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!

He on the thought-benighted sceptic beam'd Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power,

Manifest Godhead, melting into day When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die.

What floating mists of dark Idolatry

Broke and misshaped the Omnipresent Sire: Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam

And first by Fear uncharm'd the drowsed Soul.* Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train : Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel Tomorrow shall the many-color'd main

Dim recollections : and thence soar'd to Hope, In brightness roll beneath his orient beam! Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good

The Eternal dooms for his immortal Sons.
Wild, as the autumnal gust, the hand of Time From Hope and firmer Faith to perfect Love
Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance Attracted and absorb'd: and centred there
The alternate groups of Joy and Grief advance, God only to behold, and know, and feel,
Responsive to his varying strains sublime ! Till by exclusive Consciousness of God

All self-annihilated it shall make
Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate; God its Identity : God all in all !
The swain, who, lull'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led We and our Father one!
His weary oxen to their nightly shed,
Today may rule a tempest-troubled State.

And bless'd are they,

Who in this fleshly World, the elect of Heaven, Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile

Their strong eye darting through the deeds of Men, Survey the sanguinary Despot's might,

Adore with stedfast unpresuming gaze And haply hurl the Pageant from his height,

Him Nature's Essence, Mind, and Energy! Lowept to wander in some savage isle.

And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend There, shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown,

Treading beneath their feet all visible things Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest;

As steps, that upward to their Father's Throne And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest !

Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor loved. Barter, for food, the jewels of his crown.

They nor Contempt embosom nor Revenge.

For they dare know of what may seem deform
The Supreme Fair sole Operant: in whose sight
All things are pure, his strong controlling Love

Alike from all educing perfect good.

Theirs too celestial courage, inly arm'd-

Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse

On their great Father, great beyond compare ! WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMAS EVE OP 1794,

And marching onwards view high o'er their heads This is the time, when most divine to hear,

His waving Banners of Omnipotence.
The voice of Adoration rouses me,
As with a Cherub's trump: and high upborne,

Who the Creator love, created might
Yea, mingling with the Choir, I seem to view

Dread not: within their tents no terrors walk. The vision of the heavenly multitude, Who byrond the song of Peace o'er Bethlehem's

* Το Νοητον διηρηκασιν εις πολλων felds!

θεων ιδιοτητας. Yet thou more bright than all the Angel blaze,

Damas. de Myst. Ægypt. That harbinger'd thy birth, Thou, Man of Woes !


For they are holy things before the Lord,

Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole! Aye unprofaned, though Earth should league with This fraternizes Man, this constitutes Hell ;

Our charities and bearings. But 't is God God's Altar grasping with an eager hand,

Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole; Fear, the wild-visaged, pale, eye-starting wretch, This the worst superstition, him except Sure-refuged hears his hot pursuing fiends

Aught to desire, Supreme Reality! Yell at vain distance. Soon refresh'd from Heaven, The plenitude and perinanence of bliss ! He calms the throb and tempest of his heart. O Fiends of Superstition ! not that oft His countenance settles ; a soft solemn bliss The erring Priest hath stain'd with brother's blood Swims in his eye-his swimming eye upraised : Your grisly idols, not for this may wrath And Faith's whole armor glitters on his limbs ! Thunder against you from the Holy One! And thus transfigured with a dreadless awe, But o'er some plain that steameth to the sun, A solemn hush of soul, meek he beholds

Peopled with Death ; or where more hideous Trade All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmoved Loud-laughing packs his bales of human anguish: Views e'en the immitigable ministers

I will raise up a mourning, O ye Fiends! That shower down vengeance on these latter days. And curse your spells, that film the eye of Faith, For kindling with intenser Deity

Hiding the present God ; whose presence lost, From the celestial Mercy-seat they come,

The moral world's cohesion, we become And at the renovating Wells of Love

An anarchy of Spirits ! Toy-bewitch'd,
Have fillid their Vials with salutary Wrath, Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul,
To sickly Nature more medicinal

No common centre Man, no common sire
Than what soft balm the weeping good man pours Knoweth ! A sordid solitary thing,
Into the lone despoiled traveller's wounds! 'Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart

Through courts and cities the smooth Savage roams,

Feeling himself, his own low Self the whole ;
Thus from the Elect, regenerate through faith,
Pass the dark Passions and what thirsty Cares

When he by sacred sympathy might make

The whole one Self! Self that no alien knows! Drink up the spirit and the dim regards Self-centre. Lo they vanish! or acquire

Self, far diffused as Fancy's wing can travel! New names, new features—by supernal grace

Self, spreading still! Oblivious of its own, Enrobed with light, and naturalized in Heaven.

Yet all of all possessing! This is Faith!

This the Messiah's desun'd victory!
As when a shepherd on a vernal morn
Through some thick fog creeps timorous with slow

But first offences needs must come! Even now Darkling he fixes on the immediate road

(Black Hell laughs horrible-to hear the scoff!) His downward eye: all else of fairest kind Thee to defend, meek Galilæan! Thee Hid or deform'd. But lo! the bursting Sun! And thy mild laws of love unutterable, Touch'd by the enchantment of that sudden beam, Mistrust and Enmily have burst the bands Straight the black vapor melteth, and in globes Of social Peace; and listening Treachery lurks Of dewy glitter gems each plant and tree; With pious Fraud to snare a brother's life; On every leaf, on every blade it hangs!

And childless widow's o'er the groaning land Dance glad the new-born intermingling rays,

Wail numberless; and orphans weep for bread; And wide around the landscape streams with glory! Thee to defend, dear Savior of Mankind !

Thee, Lamb of God! Thee, blameless Prince of

Peace! There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,

From all sides rush the thirsty brood of War! Omnific. His most holy naine is Love.

Austria, and that foul Woman of the North, Truth of subliming import! with the which

The lustful Murderess of her wedded Lord ! Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,

And he, connatural Mind! whom (in their songs He from his small particular orbit flies

So bards of elder time had haply feign'd)
With bless'd outstarting! From Himself he flies,
Stands in the Sun, and with no partial gaze

Some Fury fondled in her hale to man,

Bidding her serpent hair in mazy surge
Views all creation ; and he loves it all,
And blesses it, and calls it very good !

Lick his young face, and at his mouth inbreathe This is indeed to dwell with the Most High!

Horrible sympathy! And leagued with these Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim

Each petty German princeling, nursed in gore !

Soul-harden'd barterers of human blood !
Can press no nearer to the Almighty's Throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts
Unfeeling of our universal Sire,

January 21st, 1794, in the debate on the Address to his And that in his vast family no Cain

Majesty, on the speech from the Throne, the Earl of Guild. Injures uninjured (in her best-aim'd blow

ford moved an Amendment to the following effect :-" That

the House hoped his Majesty would seize the earliest oppor. Victorious Murder a blind Suicide),

tunity to conclude a peace with France," etc. This motion Haply for this some younger Angel now

was opposed by the Duke of Portland, who "considered the Looks down on Human Nature: and, behold! war to be merely grounded on one principle-the preservatio A sea of blood bestrew'd with wrecks, where mad of the Christian Religion.” May 30th, 1794, the Duke o.

Bedford moved a number of Resolutions, with a view to the Embottling Interests on each other rush

Establishment of a Peace with France. He was opposed With unhelm'd rage !

(among others) by Lord Abingdon in these remarkable words, "The best road to Peace, my Lords, is War! and War car

ried on in the same manner in which we ato laught to worship "Tis the sublime of man, our Creator, namely, with all our souls, and with all ou Our nematide Majesty, to know ourselves

minds, and with all our beurts, and with all our strength."


Death's prime Slave-merchants ! Scorpion-whips of When, stung to rage by Pity, eloquent men

Have roused with pealing voice unnumber'd tribes Nor least in savagery of holy zeal,

That toil and groan and bleed, hungry and blind Art for the yoke, the race degenerate,

These hush'd awhile with patient eye serene, Whom Britain erst had blush'd to call her sons ! Shall watch the mad careering of the storm; Thee to defend the Moloch Priest prefers

Then o'er the wild and wavy chaos rush The prayer of hate, and bellows to the herd And tame the outrageous mass, with plastic might Tha: Deity, Accomplice Deity

Moulding Confusion to such perfect forms, In the fierce jealousy of waken'd wrath

As erst were wont, bright visions of the day! Will go forih with our armies and our fleets,

To float before them, when, the Summer noon, To scatter the red ruin on their foes?

Beneath some arch'd romantic rock reclined, O blasphemy! to mingle fiendish deeds

They felt the sea-breeze lift their youthful locks ; With blessedness!

Or in the month of blossoms, at mild eve,

Wandering with desultory feet inhaled
Lord of unsleeping Love,*

The wasted perfumes, and the rocks and woods From everlasting Thou! We shall not die.

And many-tinted streams and setting Sun These, even these, in mercy didst thou form,

With all his gorgeous company of clouds Teachers of Good through Evil, by brief wrong

Ecstatic gazed! then homeward as they stray'd Making Truth lovely, and her future might

Cast the sad eye to earth, and inly mused Nagnetic o'er the fix'd untrembling heart.

Why there was Misery in a world so fair.

Ah sar removed from all that glads the sense,

From all that softens or ennobles Man, In the primeval age a dateless while

The wretched Many! Bent beneath their loads The vacant Shepherd wanderd with his flock, Pitching his tent where'er the green grass waved.

They gape at pageant Power, nor recognize

Their cots' transmuted plunder! From the tree Bot soon Imagination conjured up An host of new desires : with busý aim,

Of Knowledge, ere the vernal sap had risen Each for himself, Earth's eager children toil'd.

Rudely disbranch’d! Blessed Society!

Fitliest depictured by some sun-scorch'd waste, So Property began, two-streaming fount, Whence Vice and Virtue flow, honey and gall,

Where oft majestic through the tainted noon

The Simoom sails, before whose purple pomp Hence the soft couch, and many-color'd robe,

Who falls not prostrate dies! And where by night The timbrel, and arch'd dome and costly feast,

Fast by each precious fountain on green herbs
With all the inventive arts, that nursed the soul

The lion couches ; or hyena dips
To forms of beauty, and by sensual wants
C'rrensnalized the mind, which in the means

Deep in the lucid stream his bloody jaws • leart to forget the grossness of the end,

Or serpent plants his vast moon-glittering bulk, Best pleasured with its own activity.

Caught in whose monstrous twine Behemoth* yells

His bones loud-crashing !
And hence Disease that withers manhood's arm,
The dagger'd Envy, spirit-quenching Want,
Warriors, and Lords, and Priests—all the sore ills

O ye numberless, That vex and desolate our mortal life.

Whom foul Oppression's ruffian gluttony Wide-wasting ills ! yet each the immediate source Drives from life's plenteous feast! 0 thou por of mightier good. Their keen necessities

wretch, To ceaseless action goading human thought Who nursed in darkness and made wild by want, Ilave made Earth's reasoning animal her Lord ; Roamest for prey, yea thy unnatural hand And the pale-featured Sage's trembling hand Dost lift to deeds of blood ! O pale-eyed form, Strong as an host of armed Deities,

The victim of seduction, doom'd to know Such as the blind lonian fabled erst.

Polluted nights and days of blasphemy;

Who in lothed orgies with lewd wassailers From Avarice thus, from Luxury and War Must gaily laugh, while thy remember'd home Sprang heavenly Science ; and from Science Gnaws like a viper at thy secret heart ! Freedom.

O aged Women! ye who weekly catch O'er waken'd realms Philosophers and Bards

The morsel loss'd by law-forced Charity, Spread in concentric circles: they whose souls,

And die so slowly, that none call it murder! Conscious of their high dignities from God, O loihely Suppliants ! ye, that unreceived Brook not Wealth's rivalry! and they who long

Totter heart-broken from the closing gates Enamoord with the charms of order hate

Of the full Lazar-house : or, gazing, stand The unseemly disproportion : and whoe'er Sick with despair ! O ye to Glory's field Turn with mild sorrow from the victor's car

Forced or ensnared, who, as ye gasp in death, And the low puppetry of thrones, to muse

Bleed with new wounds beneath the Vulture's beak On that blest triumph, when the patriot Sage O thou poor Widow, who in dreams dost view Cail'd the red lightnings from the o'er-rushing cloud, Thy Husband's mangled corse, and from short dozo And dash'd the beauteous Terrors on the earth Start'st with a shriek; or in thy half-thatch'd ont Smailing majestic. Such a phalanx ne'er

Waked by the wintry night-storm, wet and cold, Measured firm paces to the calming sound Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby! Rest awhile Of Spartan fute! These on the fated day,

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Behemoth, in Hebrew, signifies wild beasts in general. Ant thou not from everlasting. O Lord, mine Holy one ? Some believe it is the elephant, some the hippopotamus; some We shall not die. O Lord thou hast ordained them for judg. ffirm it is the wild bull. Poetically, it designates any largo Dent, etc.- Habakkuk.


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