CALAIS, AUGUST 15, 1802.
FESTIVALS have I seen that were not names : This is young Buonaparte's natal day, And his is henceforth an established sway- Consul for life. With worship France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games. Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay! Calais is not and I have bent my way To the sea-coast, noting that each man frames His business as he likes. Far other show My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time; The senselessness of joy was then sublime! Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.
TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE.
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den ;- O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC
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, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day : Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away.
Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced those times, was the chasing of all Negroes from France by decree of the govern- ment: we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled. We had a female Passenger who came From Calais with us, spotless in array,— A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay, Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame; Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim She sate, from notice turning not away, But on all proffered intercourse did lay A weight of languid speech, or to the same No sign of answer made by word or face: Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire, That, burning independent of the mind, Joined with the lustre of her rich attire To mock the Outcast-O ye Heavens, be kind! And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race!
THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call To that great King; shall hail the crowned Youth Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth, By one example hath set forth to all How they with dignity may stand; or fall, If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend? And what to him and his shall be the end? That thought is one which neither can appal Nor cheer him ; for the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be; is raised above All consequences: work he hath begun Of fortitude, and piety, and love, Which all his glorious ancestors approve : The heroes bless him, him their rightful son
COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY NEAR DOVER, ON THE DAY OF LANDING.
HERE, on our native soil, we breathe once more. The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, that sound Of bells;-those boys who in yon meadow-ground In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore ;-- All, all are English. Oft have I looked round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free, My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.
INLAND, within a hollow vale, I stood;
And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear, The coast of France-the coast of France how near! Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there! What mightiness for evil and for good! Even so doth God protect us if we be Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity; Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul Only, the Nations shall be great and free.
MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour: 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; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND.
Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, 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: Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left; For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be That Mountain floods should thunder as before, And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!
GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none: The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on ; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend
But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men!
WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802.
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 handy-work 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: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.-In every thing we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
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 I had, my Country !-am I to be blamed? Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; And I by my affection was beguiled : What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind, Felt for thee as a lover or a child!
THESE times strike monied worldlings with dismay: Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair : While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day And minds not stinted or untilled are given, Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven, Are cheerful as the rising sun in May. What do we gather hence but firmer faith That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath; That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital,—and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
ONE might believe that natural miseries Had blasted France, and made of it a land Unfit for men ; and that in one great band Her sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease. But 'tis a chosen soil, where sun and breeze Shed gentle favours: rural works are there, And ordinary business without care;
ENGLAND! the time is come when thou should'st
Thy heart from its emasculating food;
The truth should now be better understood; Old things have been unsettled; we have seen Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been But for thy trespasses; and, at this day, If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa,
Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please! Aught good were destined, thou would'st step
How piteous then that there should be such dearth Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite To work against themselves such fell despite : Should come in phrensy and in drunken mirth, Impatient to put out the only light Of Liberty that yet remains on earth!
England! all nations in this charge agree: But worse, more ignorant in love and hate, Far-far more abject, is thine Enemy : Therefore the wise pray for thee, though the freight Of thy offences be a heavy weight:
Oh grief that Earth's best hopes rest all with Thee!
THERE is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall, Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall : "Tis his who walks about in the open air, One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear Their fetters in their souls. For who could be, Who, even the best, in such condition, free From self-reproach, reproach that he must share With Human-nature? Never be it ours To see the sun how brightly it will shine, And know that noble feelings, manly powers, Instead of gathering strength, must droop and pine; And earth with all her pleasant fruits and flowers Fade, and participate in man's decline.
WHEN, looking on the present face of things,
I see one Man, of men the meanest too! Raised up to sway the world, to do, undo, With mighty Nations for his underlings, The great events with which old story rings Seem vain and hollow; I find nothing great: Nothing is left which I can venerate; So that a doubt almost within me springs Of Providence, such emptiness at length Seems at the heart of all things. But, great God! I measure back the steps which I have trod; And tremble, seeing whence proceeds the strength Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime I tremble at the sorrow of the time.
VANGUARD of Liberty, ye men of Kent, Ye children of a Soil that doth advance Her haughty brow against the coast of France, Now is the time to prove your hardiment ! To France be words of invitation sent! They from their fields can see the countenance Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance, And hear you shouting forth your brave intent. Left single, in bold parley, ye, of yore, Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath; Confirmed the charters that were yours before ;- No parleying now! In Britain is one breath; We all are with you now from shore to shore :- Ye men of Kent, 'tis victory or death !
WHAT if our numbers barely could defy The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes, Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words, Striking through English breasts the anarchy Of Terror, bear us to the ground, and tie Our hands behind our backs with felon cords? Yields every thing to discipline of swords? Is man as good as man, none low, none high ?— Nor discipline nor valour can withstand The shock, nor quell the inevitable rout, When in some great extremity breaks out A people, on their own beloved Land Risen, like one man, to combat in the sight Of a just God for liberty and right.
LINES ON THE EXPECTED INVASION.
COME ye-who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land Were with herself at strife, would take your stand, Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side, And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride- Come ye-who, not less zealous, might display Banners at enmity with regal sway,
And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day, Think that a State would live in sounder health If Kingship bowed its head to Commonwealth- Ye too-whom no discreditable fear
Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear, Uncertain what to choose and how to steerAnd ye who might mistake for sober sense And wise reserve the plea of indolence
SHOUT, for a mighty Victory is won! On British ground the Invaders are laid low; The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow. And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!—the work is done. Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow! Make merry, wives! ye little children, stun Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise! Clap, infants, clap your hands! Divine must be That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, And even the prospect of our brethren slain, Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:- In glory will they sleep and endless sanctity.
NOVEMBER, 1806. ANOTHER year!-another deadly blow! Another mighty Empire overthrown! And We are left, or shall be left, alone; The last that dare to struggle with the Foe. "Tis well! from this day forward we shall know That in ourselves our safety must be sought; That by our own right hands it must be wrought; That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low. O dastard whom such foretaste doth not cheer! We shall exult, if they who rule the land Be men who hold its many blessings dear, Wise, upright, valiant; not a servile band, Who are to judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand.
But they are ever playing, And twinkling in the light, And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;
And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair, And calls a look of love into her face, And spreads her arms, as if the general air Alone could satisfy her wide embrace. -Melt, Principalities, before her melt! Her love ye hailed-her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form hath gone, And stands amidst you now an armed creature, Whose panoply is not a thing put on,
But the live scales of a portentous nature; That, having forced its way from birth to birth, Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the Earth!
So did she daunt the Earth, and God defy! And, wheresoe'er she spread her sovereignty, Pollution tainted all that was most pure. -Have we not known-and live we not to tell- That Justice seemed to hear her final knell ? Faith buried deeper in her own deep breast Her stores, and sighed to find them insecure! And Hope was maddened by the drops that fell From shades, her chosen place of short-lived rest. Shame followed shame, and woe supplanted woe- Is this the only change that time can show? How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient Heavens, how long?
--Infirm ejaculation! from the tongue Of Nations wanting virtue to be strong Up to the measure of accorded might, And daring not to feel the majesty of right!
Weak Spirits are there-who would ask, Upon the pressure of a painful thing, The lion's sinews, or the eagle's wing; Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade, Among the lurking powers
Of herbs and lowly flowers,
Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aid—
That Man may be accomplished for a task Which his own nature hath enjoined ;—and why? If, when that interference hath relieved him, He must sink down to languish
In worse than former helplessness—and lie Till the caves roar,—and, imbecility Again engendering anguish, [ceived him. The same weak wish returns, that had before de.
But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st not speed The course of things, and change the creed Which hath been held aloft before men's sight Since the first framing of societies, Whether, as bards have told in ancient song, Built up by soft seducing harmonies; Or prest together by the appetite, And by the power, of wrong.
ON A CELEBRATED EVENT IN ANCIENT HISTORY.
A ROMAN Master stands on Grecian ground, And to the people at the Isthmian Games Assembled, He, by a herald's voice, proclaims THE LIBERTY OF GREECE -the words rebound Until all voices in one voice are drowned; Glad acclamation by which air was rent! And birds, high flying in the element, Dropped to the earth, astonished at the sound! Yet were the thoughtful grieved; and still that voice Haunts, with sad echoes, musing Fancy's ear: Ah! that a Conqueror's words should be so dear: Ah! that a boon could shed such rapturous joys! A gift of that which is not to be given
By all the blended powers of Earth and Heaven.
WHEN, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn The tidings passed of servitude repealed, And of that joy which shook the Isthmian Field, The rough Ætolians smiled with bitter scorn. ""Tis known," cried they," that he, who would adorn His envied temples with the Isthmian crown, Must either win, through effort of his own, The prize, or be content to see it worn By more deserving brows.-Yet so ye prop, Sons of the brave who fought at Marathon, Your feeble spirits! Greece her head hath bowed, As if the wreath of liberty thereon Would fix itself as smoothly as a cloud,
Which, at Jove's will, descends on Pelion's top."
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