Volume 6 — 1816

Hail, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night![80] Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude On hearts howe'er insensible or rude; Whether thy punctual[81] visitations smite 5 The haughty towers where monarchs dwell; Or thou, impartial Sun, with presence bright Cheer'st the low threshold of the peasant's cell! Not unrejoiced I see thee climb the sky In naked splendour, clear from mist or haze, 10 Or cloud approaching to divert the rays, Which even in deepest winter testify Thy power and majesty, Dazzling the vision that presumes to gaze. —Well does thine aspect usher in this Day; 15 As aptly suits therewith that modest pace Submitted to the chains[82] That bind thee to the path which God ordains That thou shall trace, Till, with the heavens and earth, thou pass away! 20 Nor less, the stillness of these frosty plains, Their utter stillness, and the silent grace Of yon ethereal summits white with snow,[AR] (Whose tranquil pomp and spotless purity Report of storms gone by 25 To us who tread below) Do with the service of this Day accord. —Divinest Object which the uplifted eye Of mortal man is suffered to behold; Thou, who upon those[83] snow-clad Heights hast poured 30 Meek lustre,[84] nor forget'st the humble Vale; Thou who dost warm Earth's universal mould, And for thy bounty wert not unadored By pious men of old; Once more, heart-cheering Sun, I bid thee hail! Bright be thy course to-day, let not this promise fail!

36 'Mid the deep quiet of this morning hour, All nature seems to hear me while I speak, By feelings urged that do not vainly seek Apt language, ready as the tuneful notes 40 That stream in blithe succession from the throats Of birds, in leafy bower, Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower. —There is a radiant though[85] a short-lived flame, That burns for Poets in the dawning east; 45 And oft my soul hath kindled at the same, When the captivity of sleep had ceased; But He who fixed immoveably the frame Of the round world, and built, by laws as strong, A solid refuge for distress— 50 The towers of righteousness; He knows that from a holier altar came The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice; Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise The current of this matin song; 55 That deeper far it lies Than aught dependent on the fickle skies.

Have we not conquered?—by the vengeful sword? Ah no, by dint of Magnanimity; That curbed the baser passions, and left free 60 A loyal band to follow their liege Lord, Clear-sighted Honour, and his staid Compeers, Along a track of most unnatural years;[AS] In execution of heroic deeds Whose memory, spotless as the crystal beads 65 Of morning dew upon the untrodden meads, Shall live enrolled above the starry spheres. He, who in concert with an earthly string[86] Of Britain's acts would sing, He with enraptured voice will tell 70 Of One whose spirit no reverse could quell; Of One that 'mid the failing never failed[AT]— Who paints how Britain struggled and prevailed Shall represent her labouring with an eye Of circumspect humanity; 75 Shall show her clothed with strength and skill, All martial duties to fulfil; Firm as a rock in stationary fight; In motion rapid as the lightning's gleam; Fierce as a flood-gate bursting at mid night[87] 80 To rouse the wicked from their giddy dream— Woe, woe to all that face her in the field! Appalled she may not be, and cannot yield.

And thus is missed[88] the sole true glory That can belong to human story! 85 At which they[89] only shall arrive Who through the abyss of weakness dive. The very humblest are too proud of heart; And one brief day is rightly set apart For Him[90] who lifteth up and layeth low; 90 For that Almighty God to whom we owe, Say not that we have vanquished—but that we survive.

How dreadful the dominion of the impure! Why should the Song be tardy to proclaim That less than power unbounded[91] could not tame 95 That soul of Evil—which, from hell let loose, Had filled the astonished world with such abuse As boundless patience only could endure? —Wide-wasted regions—cities wrapt in flame— Who sees,[92] may lift a streaming eye To Heaven;—who never saw, may heave a sigh; 101 But the foundation of our nature shakes, And with an infinite pain the spirit aches, When desolated countries, towns on fire, Are but the avowed attire 105 Of warfare waged with desperate mind Against the life of virtue in mankind;[AU] Assaulting without ruth The citadels of truth; While the fair gardens of civility, 110 By ignorance defaced, By violence laid waste, Perish without reprieve for flower or tree![93]

A crouching purpose—a distracted will— Opposed to hopes that battened upon scorn, 115 And to desires whose ever-waxing horn Not all the light of earthly power could fill; Opposed to dark, deep plots of patient skill, And to[94] celerities of lawless force; Which, spurning God, had flung away remorse— 120 What could they gain but shadows of redress? —So bad proceeded propagating worse; And discipline was passion's dire excess.[AV] Widens the fatal web, its lines extend, And deadlier poisons in the chalice blend. 125 When will your trials teach you to be wise? —O prostrate Lands, consult your agonies!

No more—the guilt is banish'd, And, with the guilt, the shame is fled; And, with the guilt and shame, the Woe hath vanish'd, 130 Shaking the dust and ashes from her head! —No more—these lingerings of distress Sully the limpid stream of thankfulness. What robe can Gratitude employ So seemly as the radiant vest of Joy? 135 What steps so suitable as those that move In prompt obedience to spontaneous measures Of glory, and felicity, and love, Surrendering the whole heart to sacred pleasures?

O Britain! dearer far than life is dear,[AW] 140 If one there be Of all thy progeny[95] Who can forget thy prowess, never more Be that[96] ungrateful Son allowed to hear Thy green leaves rustle or thy torrents roar. 145 As springs the lion from his den, As from a forest-brake Upstarts a glistering snake, The bold Arch-despot re-appeared;[97][AX]—again Wide Europe heaves, impatient to be cast, 150 With all her armèd Powers, On that offensive soil, like waves upon a thousand shores.[98] The trumpet blew a universal blast![AY] But Thou art foremost in the field:[AZ]—there stand: Receive the triumph destined to thy hand! 155 All States have glorified themselves;—their claims Are weighed by Providence, in balance even; And now, in preference to the mightiest names, To Thee the exterminating sword[99] is given. Dread mark of approbation, justly gained! 160 Exalted office, worthily sustained!

Preserve, O Lord! within our hearts The memory of thy favour, That else insensibly departs, And loses its sweet savour! 165 Lodge it within us!—as the power of light Lives inexhaustibly in precious gems, Fixed on the front of Eastern diadems, So shine our thankfulness for ever bright! What offering, what transcendent monument 170 Shall our sincerity to Thee present? —Not work of hands; but trophies that may reach To highest Heaven—the labour of the Soul; That builds, as thy unerring precepts teach, Upon the internal conquests made by each,[100] 175 Her hope of lasting glory for the whole. Yet will not heaven disown nor earth gainsay[101] The outward service of this day; Whether the worshippers entreat Forgiveness from God's mercy-seat; 180 Or thanks and praises to His throne ascend That He has[102] brought our warfare to an end, And that we need no second[103] victory!—[BA] Ha! what a ghastly sight for man to see; And to the heavenly saints in peace who dwell, 185 For a brief moment, terrible; But, to thy sovereign penetration, fair, Before whom all things are, that were, All judgments that have been, or e'er shall be; Links in the chain of thy tranquillity! 190 Along the bosom of this favoured Nation, Breathe Thou, this day, a vital undulation! Let all who do this land inherit Be conscious of thy moving spirit! Oh, 'tis a goodly Ordinance,—the sight, 195 Though sprung from bleeding war, is one of pure delight; Bless Thou the hour, or ere the hour arrive, When a whole people shall kneel down in prayer, And, at one moment, in one rapture,[104] strive With lip and heart to tell their gratitude 200 For thy protecting care, Their solemn joy—praising the Eternal Lord For tyranny subdued, And for the sway of equity renewed, 204 For liberty confirmed, and peace restored!

But hark—the summons!—down the placid lake Floats the soft cadence of the church-tower bells;[BB] Bright shines the Sun, as if his beams would wake[105] The tender insects sleeping in their cells; Bright shines the Sun—and not a breeze to shake 210 The drops that tip[106] the melting icicles. O, enter now his temple gate! Inviting words—perchance already flung (As the crowd press devoutly down the aisle Of some old Minster's venerable pile) 215 From voices into zealous passion stung, While the tubed engine feels the inspiring blast, And has begun—its clouds of sound to cast Forth towards[107] empyreal Heaven, As if the fretted roof were riven. 220 Us, humbler ceremonies now await; But in the bosom, with devout respect The banner of our joy we will erect, And strength of love our souls shall elevate: For to a few collected in his name, 225 Their heavenly Father will incline an ear Gracious to service hallowed by its aim;—[108] Awake! the majesty of God revere! Go—and with foreheads meekly bowed Present your prayers—go—and rejoice aloud— 230 The Holy One will hear! And what, 'mid silence deep, with faith sincere, Ye, in your low and undisturbed estate, Shall simply feel and purely meditate— Of warnings—from the unprecedented might, 235 Which, in our time, the impious have disclosed; And of more arduous duties thence imposed Upon the future advocates of right; Of mysteries revealed, And judgments unrepealed, 240 Of earthly revolution, And final retribution,— To his omniscience will appear An offering not unworthy to find place, On this high Day of Thanks, before the Throne of Grace!

And thus is missed the sole true glory;

Joyful annunciation!—it went forth— It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North, etc." Ed.

Imagination—ne'er before content, But aye ascending, restless in her pride From all that martial feats could yield To her desires, or to her hopes present— 5 Stooped to the Victory, on that Belgic field Achieved, this closing deed magnificent,[109] And with the embrace was satisfied.[110] —Fly, ministers of Fame, With every help that ye from earth and heaven may claim![111] 10 Bear through the world these tidings of delight! —Hours, Days, and Months, have borne them in the sight Of mortals, hurrying like a sudden shower[112] That land-ward stretches from the sea, The morning's splendours to devour; 15 But this swift travel scorns the company Of irksome change, or threats from saddening power.[113] —The shock is given—the Adversaries bleed— Lo, Justice triumphs! Earth is freed! Joyful annunciation!—it went forth—[114] 20 It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North—[BC] It found no barrier on the ridge Of Andes—frozen gulphs became its bridge— The vast Pacific gladdens with the freight— Upon the Lakes of Asia 'tis bestowed— 25 The Arabian desert shapes a willing road Across her burning breast, For this refreshing incense from the West!—[BD] —Where snakes and lions breed, Where towns and cities thick as stars appear, 30 Wherever fruits are gathered, and where'er The upturned soil receives the hopeful seed— While the Sun rules, and cross the shades of night— The unwearied arrow hath pursued its flight! The eyes of good men thankfully give heed, 35 And in its sparkling progress read Of virtue crowned with glory's deathless meed:[115] Tyrants exult to hear of kingdoms won, And slaves are pleased to learn that mighty feats are done; Even the proud Realm, from whose distracted borders 40 This messenger of good was launched in air, France, humbled[116] France, amid her wild disorders, Feels, and hereafter shall the truth declare, That she too lacks not reason to rejoice, And utter England's name with sadly-plausive voice.

45 O genuine glory, pure renown! And well might it beseem that mighty Town[BE] Into whose bosom earth's best treasures flow,[117] To whom all persecuted men retreat; If a new Temple lift her[118] votive brow 50 High on[119] the shore of silver Thames—to greet The peaceful guest advancing from afar. Bright be the Fabric,[120] as a star Fresh risen, and beautiful within!—there meet Dependence infinite, proportion just; 55 A Pile that Grace approves, and Time can trust With his most sacred wealth, heroic dust.[121]

But if the valiant of this land In reverential modesty demand, That all observance, due to them, be paid 60 Where their serene progenitors are laid; Kings, warriors, high-souled poets, saint-like sages, England's illustrious sons of long, long ages; Be it not unordained that solemn rites, Within the circuit of those Gothic walls,[BF] 65 Shall be performed at pregnant intervals; Commemoration holy that unites The living generations with the dead; By the deep soul-moving sense Of religious eloquence,— 70 By visual pomp, and by the tie Of sweet and threatening harmony; Soft notes, awful as the omen Of destructive tempests coming, And escaping from that sadness 75 Into elevated gladness; While the white-rob'd choir attendant, Under mouldering banners pendant, Provoke all potent symphonies to raise Songs of victory and praise, 80 For them who bravely stood unhurt, or bled With medicable wounds, or found their graves Upon the battle field, or under ocean's waves; Or were conducted home in single state, And long procession—there to lie, 85 Where their sons' sons, and all posterity, Unheard by them, their deeds shall celebrate!

Nor will the God of peace and love Such martial service disapprove. He guides the Pestilence—the cloud 90 Of locusts travels on his breath; The region that in hope was ploughed His drought consumes, his mildew taints with death; He springs the hushed Volcano's mine, He puts the Earthquake on her still design,[BG] 95 Darkens the sun, hath bade the forest sink, And, drinking towns and cities, still can drink Cities and towns—'tis Thou—the work is Thine!— The fierce Tornado sleeps within thy courts— He hears the word—he flies— 100 And navies perish in their ports; For Thou art angry with thine enemies! For these, and mourning for our errors,[122] And sins, that point their terrors, We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud 105 And magnify thy name, Almighty God! But Man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent;[123] Thou cloth'st the wicked in their dazzling mail, And for thy righteous purpose[124] they prevail; 110 Thine arm from peril guards the coasts Of them who in thy laws delight: Thy presence turns the scale of doubtful fight, Tremendous God of battles, Lord of Hosts![BH]

Forbear:—to Thee— 115 Father and Judge of all, with fervent tongue But in a gentler strain[125] Of contemplation, by no sense of wrong (Too quick and keen) incited to disdain Of pity pleading from the heart in vain—[126] 120 To Thee—To Thee Just God of christianised Humanity Shall praises be poured forth, and thanks ascend,[127] That thou hast brought our warfare to an end, And that we need no second[128] victory! 125 Blest, above measure blest, If on thy love our Land her hopes shall rest, And all the Nations labour to fulfil Thy law, and live henceforth in peace, in pure good will.[129]

Ha! what a ghastly sight for man to see; And to the heavenly saints in peace who dwell, For a brief moment, terrible; But to thy sovereign penetration fair, Before whom all things are that were, All judgments that have been, or e'er shall be, Links in the chain of thy tranquillity! Along the bosom of this favoured nation, Breathe thou, this day, a vital undulation! Let all who do this land inherit Be conscious of Thy moving spirit! Oh, 'tis a goodly Ordinance,—the sight, Though sprung from bleeding war, is one of pure delight; Bless thou the hour, or ere the hour arrive, When a whole people shall kneel down in prayer, And, at one moment, in one spirit, strive With lip and heart to tell their gratitude For thy protecting care, Their solemn joy—praising the Eternal Lord For tyranny subdued, And for the sway of equity renewed, For liberty confirmed, and peace restored!

"Rest, rest, perturbèd Earth![BJ] O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!" A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind: "From regions where no evil thing has birth 5 I come—thy stains to wash away, Thy cherished fetters to unbind, And open[130] thy sad eyes upon a milder day. The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have risen From out thy noisome prison; 10 The penal caverns groan With tens of thousands rent from off the tree Of hopeful life,[BK]—by battle's whirlwind blown Into the deserts of Eternity. Unpitied havoc! Victims unlamented! 15 But not on high, where madness is resented, And murder causes some sad tears to flow, Though, from the widely-sweeping blow, The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly augmented.

"False Parent of Mankind! 20 Obdurate, proud, and blind, I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews, Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse! Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings, Upon the act a blessing I implore, 25 Of which the rivers in their secret springs, The rivers stained so oft with human gore, Are conscious;—may the like return no more! May Discord—for a Seraph's care Shall be attended with a bolder prayer— 30 May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss These mortal spheres above, Be chained for ever to the black abyss! And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love, And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!" 35 The Spirit ended his mysterious rite, And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite."

Carmina possumus Donare, et pretium dicere muneri. Non incisa notis marmora publicis, Per quæ spiritus et vita redit bonis Post mortem ducibus clarius indicant Laudes, quam——Pierides; neque, Si chartæ sileant quod bene feceris, Mercedem tuleris. Hor. Car. 8, lib. 4.[BM]

When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch On the tired household of corporeal sense, And Fancy, keeping unreluctant watch, Was free her choicest favours to dispense;[131] 5 I saw, in wondrous pérspective displayed, A landscape more august than happiest skill[132] Of pencil ever clothed with light and shade; An intermingled pomp of vale and hill, City, and naval stream, suburban grove,[133] 10 And stately forest where the wild deer rove; Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns, And scattered rural farms of aspect bright; And, here and there, between the pastoral downs, The azure sea upswelled upon the sight. 15 Fair prospect, such as Britain only shows! But not a living creature could be seen Through its wide circuit, that, in deep repose, And, even to sadness, lonely and serene, Lay hushed; till—through a portal in the sky 20 Brighter than brightest loop-hole, in a storm, Opening before the sun's triumphant eye— Issued, to sudden view, a glorious Form![134] Earthward it glided with a swift descent: Saint George himself this Visitant must be;[135] 25 And, ere a thought could ask on what intent He sought the regions of humanity, A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified City and field and flood;—aloud it cried— "Though from my celestial home, 30 Like a Champion, armed I come; On my helm the dragon crest, And the red cross on my breast; I, the Guardian of this Land,[136] Speak not now of toilsome duty; 35 Well obeyed was that command— Whence bright days of festive beauty;[137] Haste, Virgins, haste!—the flowers which summer gave Have perished in the field; But the green thickets plenteously shall yield[138] 40 Fit garlands for the brave, That will be welcome, if by you entwined; Haste, Virgins, haste; and you, ye Matrons grave, Go forth with rival youthfulness of mind, And gather what ye find 45 Of hardy laurel and wild holly boughs— To deck your stern Defenders' modest brows! Such simple gifts prepare, Though they have gained a worthier meed; And in due time shall share 50 Those palms and amaranthine wreaths Unto their martyred Countrymen decreed, In realms where everlasting freshness breathes!"

And lo! with crimson banners proudly streaming, And upright weapons innocently gleaming, 55 Along the surface of a spacious plain Advance in order the redoubted Bands, And there receive green chaplets from the hands Of a fair female train— Maids and Matrons, dight 60 In robes of dazzling white;[139] While from the crowd bursts[140] forth a rapturous noise By the cloud-capt hills retorted; And a throng of rosy boys In loose fashion tell their joys;[141] 65 And grey-haired sires, on staffs supported, Look[142] round, and by their smiling seem[143] to say, Thus strives a grateful Country to display The mighty debt which nothing can repay!

Anon before my sight a palace rose 70 Built of all precious substances,—so pure And exquisite, that sleep alone bestows Ability like splendour to endure: Entered, with streaming thousands, through the gate, I saw the banquet spread beneath a Dome of state, 75 A lofty Dome, that dared to emulate The heaven of sable night With starry lustre; yet had power to throw Solemn effulgence, clear as solar light, Upon a princely company below, 80 While the vault rang with choral harmony, Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath the roaring sea, —No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge Of exultation hung a dirge[144] Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument, 85 That kindled recollections Of agonised affections;[BN] And, though some tears the strain attended, The mournful passion ended In peace of spirit, and sublime content!

90 But garlands wither; festal shows depart, Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sound— (Albeit of effect profound) It was—and it is gone! Victorious England! bid the silent Art 95 Reflect, in glowing hues that shall not fade, Those[145] high achievements;[BO] even as she arrayed With second life the deed of Marathon Upon Athenian walls;[BP] So may she labour for thy civic halls: 100 And be the guardian spaces Of consecrated places, As nobly graced by Sculpture's patient toil; And let imperishable Columns rise[146] Fixed in the depths of this courageous soil;[BQ] 105 Expressive signals[147] of a glorious strife, And competent to shed a spark divine Into the torpid breast of daily life;— Records on which, for pleasure of all eyes, The morning sun may shine[148] 110 With gratulation thoroughly benign![BR]

And ye, Pierian Sisters,[BS] sprung from Jove And sage Mnemosyne,—full long debarred[149] From your first mansions, exiled all too long[150] From many a hallowed stream and grove,[151] 115 Dear native regions[BT] where ye wont to rove, Chanting for patriot heroes the reward Of never-dying song! Now (for, though Truth descending from above The Olympian summit hath destroyed for aye 120 Your kindred Deities, Ye live and move,[BU] Spared for obeisance from perpetual love For privilege redeemed of god-like sway) Now,[152] on the margin of some spotless fountain, Or top serene of unmolested mountain, 125 Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres, And for a moment meet the soul's desires![153] That I, or some more favoured Bard, may hear What ye, celestial Maids! have often sung Of Britain's acts,—may catch it with rapt ear, 130 And give the treasure to our British tongue! So shall the characters of that proud page Support their mighty theme from age to age; And, in the desert places of the earth, When they to future empires have given birth, 135 So shall the people gather and believe The bold report, transferred to every clime; And the whole world, not envious but admiring, And to the like aspiring, Own—that the progeny of this fair Isle 140 Had power as lofty actions to achieve As were performed in man's heroic prime; Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held Its even tenor, and the foe was quelled, A corresponding virtue to beguile 145 The hostile purpose of wide-wasting Time— That not in vain they laboured to secure, For their great deeds, perpetual memory, And fame as largely spread as land and sea, By Works of spirit high and passion pure!

Who rises on the banks of Seine, And binds her temples with the civic wreath? What joy to read the promise of her mien! How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings beneath! 5 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, 10 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! 15 But She through many a change of form hath gone, And stands amidst you now an armèd creature, Whose panoply is not a thing put on, But the live scales of a portentous nature; 19 That, having forced[154] its way from birth to birth, Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the Earth!

I marked the breathings of her dragon crest; My Soul, a sorrowful interpreter, In many a midnight vision bowed Before the ominous aspect of her spear;[155] 25 Whether the mighty beam, in scorn upheld, Threatened her foes,—or, pompously at rest, Seemed to bisect her orbèd shield, As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud[156] Across the setting sun and all the fiery west.[157]

30 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? 35 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.[158] Shame followed shame, and woe supplanted woe— 40 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, 45 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, 50 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? 55 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, 60 The same weak wish returns, that had before deceived him.

But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st[159] 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, 65 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.

Humanity, delighting to behold A fond reflection of her own decay, Hath painted Winter like a traveller old, Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day, 5 In hooded mantle, limping o'er the plain,[161] As though his weakness were disturbed by pain: Or, if a juster fancy should allow An undisputed symbol of command, The chosen sceptre is a withered bough, 10 Infirmly grasped within a palsied hand. These emblems suit the helpless and forlorn; But mighty Winter the device shall scorn. For he it was—dread Winter! who beset, Flinging round van and rear his ghastly net, 15 That host, when from the regions of the Pole They shrunk, insane ambition's barren goal— That host, as huge and strong as e'er defied Their God, and placed their trust in human pride! As fathers persecute rebellious sons, 20 He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; He called on Frost's inexorable tooth Life to consume in Manhood's firmest hold; Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs; For why—unless for liberty enrolled 25 And sacred home—ah! why should hoary Age be bold? Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed, But fleeter far the pinions of the Wind, Which from Siberian caves the Monarch freed, And sent him forth, with squadrons of his kind, 30 And bade the Snow their ample backs bestride, And to the battle ride. No pitying voice commands a halt, No courage can repel the dire assault; Distracted, spiritless, benumbed, and blind, 35 Whole legions sink—and, in one instant, find Burial and death: look for them—and descry, When morn returns, beneath the clear blue sky, A soundless waste, a trackless vacancy!

Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King! And ye mild Seasons—in a sunny clime, Midway on some high hill, while father Time Looks on delighted—meet in festal ring, 5 And loud and long of Winter's triumph sing! Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits, and flowers, Of Winter's breath surcharged with sleety showers, And the dire flapping of his hoary wing! Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass; 10 With feet, hands, eyes, looks, lips, report your gain; Whisper it to the billows of the main, And to the aërial zephyrs as they pass, That old decrepit Winter—He hath slain That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!

O, for a kindling touch from that pure flame Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies, In words like these: "Up, Voice of Song! proclaim 5 Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim: For lo! the Imperial City stands released[163] From bondage threatened by the embattled East, And Christendom respires;[164] from guilt and shame Redeemed, from miserable fear set free 10 By one day's feat, one mighty victory. —Chant the Deliverer's praise in every tongue! The cross shall spread, the crescent hath waxed dim; He conquering, as in joyful Heaven is sung,[165] He conquering through God, and God by him." [BW]

Intrepid sons of Albion! not by you Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earth Ne'er saw a race who held, by right of birth, So many objects to which love is due: 5 Ye slight not life—to God and Nature true; But death, becoming death, is dearer far, When duty bids you bleed in open war: Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious crew. Heroes!—for instant sacrifice prepared; 10 Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent 'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident— To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared To guard the fallen, and consummate the event, Your Country rears this sacred Monument!

The Bard—whose soul is meek as dawning day, Yet trained to judgments righteously severe, Fervid, yet conversànt with holy fear, As recognising one Almighty sway: 5 He—whose experienced eye can pierce the array Of past events; to whom, in vision clear, The aspiring heads of future things appear, Like mountain-tops whose[168] mists have rolled away— Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time,[BX] 10 He only, if such breathe, in strains devout Shall comprehend this victory sublime; Shall[169] worthily rehearse the hideous rout, The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime Angels might welcome with a choral shout![170]

Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rung With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's scorn! How oft above their altars have been hung Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn 5 Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung! Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is sprung;[BY] In this firm hour Salvation lifts her horn. Glory to arms! But, conscious that the nerve 10 Of popular reason, long mistrusted, freed Your thrones, ye Powers, from duty fear to swerve![171] Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed Reviving, heavier chastisement deserve Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed.

Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould Uprisen—to lodge among ancestral kings; And to inflict shame's salutary stings On the remorseless hearts of men grown old 5 In a blind worship; men perversely bold Even to this hour,—yet, some shall now forsake Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake, To warn the living; if truth were ever told By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave:[173] 10 O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave! The power of retribution once was given: But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands So often tie the thunder-wielding hands Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!

Serene, and fitted to embrace, Where'er he turned, a swan-like grace[175] Of haughtiness without pretence, And to unfold a still magnificence, 5 Was princely Dion, in the power And beauty of his happier hour. And what pure homage then did wait On Dion's virtues, while the lunar beam[176] Of Plato's genius, from its lofty sphere, 10 Fell round him in the grove of Academe, Softening their inbred dignity austere— That he, not too elate With self-sufficing solitude, But with majestic lowliness endued, 15 Might in the universal bosom reign, And from affectionate observance gain Help, under every change of adverse fate.[177]

Five thousand warriors—O the rapturous day![178] Each crowned with flowers, and armed with spear and shield, 20 Or ruder weapon which their course might yield,[179] To Syracuse advance[180] in bright array. Who leads them on?—The anxious people see Long-exiled Dion marching at their head, He also crowned with flowers of Sicily, 25 And in a white, far-beaming, corselet clad! Pure transport undisturbed by doubt or fear The gazers feel; and, rushing to the plain, Salute those strangers as a holy train Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear) 30 That brought their precious liberty again. Lo! when the gates are entered, on each hand, Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine In seemly order stand, On tables set, as if for rites divine;— 35 And, as the great Deliverer marches by, He looks on festal ground with fruits bestrown; And flowers are on his person thrown[181] In boundless prodigality; Nor doth[182] the general voice abstain from prayer, 40 Invoking Dion's tutelary care, As if a very Deity he were!

Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn! 44 Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades! For him who to divinity aspired, Not on the breath[183] of popular applause, But through dependence on the sacred laws Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired, 50 Intent to trace the ideal path of right (More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars) Which Dion learned to measure with sublime delight;—[184] But He hath overleaped[185] the eternal bars; And, following guides whose craft holds no consent 55 With aught that breathes the ethereal element, Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, Unjustly shed, though for the public good. Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain, Hollow excuses, and triumphant pain; 60 And oft his cogitations sink as low As, through the abysses of a joyless heart, The heaviest plummet of despair can go— But whence that sudden check? that fearful start! He hears an uncouth sound— 65 Anon his lifted eyes Saw, at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound, A Shape[186] of more than mortal size And hideous aspect, stalking round and round! A woman's garb the Phantom wore, 70 And fiercely swept the marble floor,— Like Auster whirling to and fro,[187] His force on Caspian foam to try; Or Boreas when he scours the snow That skins the plains of Thessaly, 75 Or when aloft on Mænalus he stops His flight, 'mid eddying pine-tree tops!

So, but from toil less sign of profit reaping, The sullen Spectre to her purpose bowed, Sweeping—vehemently sweeping— 80 No pause admitted, no design avowed! "Avaunt, inexplicable Guest!—avaunt," Exclaimed the Chieftain[188]—"let me rather see The coronal that coiling vipers make; The torch that flames with many a lurid flake, 85 And the long train of doleful pageantry Which they behold,[189] whom vengeful Furies haunt; Who, while they struggle from the scourge to flee, Move where the blasted[190] soil is not unworn, And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!"

90 But Shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid; Lords of the visionary eye whose lid, Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall! Ye Gods, thought He, that servile Implement 95 Obeys a mystical intent! Your Minister would brush away The spots that to my soul adhere; But should she labour night and day, They will not, cannot disappear; 100 Whence angry perturbations,—and that look Which no philosophy can brook!

Ill-fated Chief! there are[191] whose hopes are built Upon the ruins of thy glorious name;[192] Who, through the portal of one moment's guilt, 105 Pursue thee with their deadly aim![193] O matchless perfidy![194] portentous lust Of monstrous crime!—that horror-striking blade, Drawn in defiance of the Gods, hath laid The noble Syracusan low in dust! 110 Shudder'd[195] the walls—the marble city wept— And sylvan places heaved a pensive sigh; But[196] in calm peace the appointed Victim slept, As he had fallen in magnanimity; Of spirit too capacious to require 115 That Destiny her course should change; too just To his own native greatness[197] to desire That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust. So[198] were the hopeless troubles, that involved The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved. 120 Released from life and cares of princely state, He left this moral grafted on his Fate; "Him only pleasure leads, and peace attends, Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends, Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends."

Mourn, olive bowers of Attica! and Thou, Partake the sadness of the groves, Famed hill Hymettus, round whose fragrant brow, Industrious bees, each seeking what she loves, Or fraught with treasure which she best approves, Their murmurs blend { in choral elevation } { with choral animation } Not wholly lost upon the abstracted ear Of unambitious men who wander near Immersed in lonely contemplation. Mourn, sunny Hill, and shady Grove! and mourn Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn! Lament the fall of him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades! For He, who to divinity aspired, Not on the wings of popular applause, But through dependence on the sacred laws Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired, Meek Wisdom tracing with a steady hand The path which she alone hath scann'd— The ideal path of right— More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars, Which Dion learned to gaze on with delight;— But he hath overleap'd the eternal bars, And following guides whose craft holds no consent With aught that breathes the ethereal element, Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, Unjustly shed, though for the public good. Blind choice—for since that day, the chief, the sage, Prime boast and envy of a glorious age, Droops, the slave of fear and sorrow; For since that hour the studious walks and shades, Whose once sweet memory her Spirit dreads, Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow, Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow. Lament, ye studious walks and shades, The fall of Him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory—and mourn Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn, For him who . . . . . . Mourn, { sunny hills and groves } of Attica! and mourn { olive bowers } Ilyssus, bending o'er thy classic urn! Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades, For him who . . . . . . . . . where Wisdom dwelt retired { Tracing with steady hand the path of right } { Intent to trace the ideal path of right }

. . . where Wisdom dwelt retired Tracing assiduously the path of right. That path which Dion travelled { in } delight. {with} Which Dion learned to travel with delight. Ever since that hour, ye studious walks and shades, Whose once sweet Memory now his spirit dreads, Hath Dion pined with sharp regret and sorrow. Blind choice—for since that word was given, the Sage, Prime boast and envy of a glorious age, {Hath droop'd and pined with sharp regret and sorrow, } {Droops with a burthen of repentant sorrow, } Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow. Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, Unjustly shed—albeit to prevent Manifold tumults and incessant strife, That seemed to hang upon a single life To whom the calm of general content, The stedfastness of public good, Was tiresome as the weight That presses down the minds of mariners, When not a billow stirs On the wide surface of the ocean flood. { Untractable disturber of the State, } { Strong is he—and concessions have proved vain, } { And pardon { only makes } him more elate, } { doth but make }} { And bolder to transgress again. } { Untractable disturber of the State,} { Of popularity the giddy thrall,} { Ever aspiring to the topmost height, } { His ears he shuts against the call } { Of reason—therefore let him fall. } Infirm decision, slowly won From Dion's mind—to authorize a deed Which when the word was uttered—with the speed Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns—is done. {But} since that fatal hour—the chief, the sage, {For} That hung upon a single life {Presumptuous, } {Bold, } fickle, envious, turbulent, {Ambitious, } Ever aspiring to the topmost height; To whom the calm of general content, Diffused when order reigned for public good, Was tiresome ... Repeated pardons make him more elate, And bolder to offend again. He hath provoked his fate; Deliberative sadness ratifies The offender's doom, and solemn be his obsequies! Yes, let him fall, decision slowly won From Dion's mind, to authorize a deed Which when the word was uttered—with the speed Of lightning hurrying through the heav'ns—is done. But since that fated word the {princely } sage, {chief—the} Prime boast and envy of a glorious age, Droops, under burthen of repentant sorrow, Depress'd to-day, and unrelieved to-morrow. He hath provoked his fate: Ever aspiring to the topmost height, He shuts his ear against the call Of Reason, therefore let him fall. ms.

. . . . a swan-like grace Of haughtiness without pretence.

Softening their inbred dignity austere.

That he, not too elate With self-sufficing solitude.

Each crowned with flowers ...

Or ruder weapon which their course might yield.

Who leads them on? ...

Salute those strangers as a holy train Or blest procession (to the Immortals dear) That brought their precious liberty again.

Down the long street, rich goblets filled with wine In seemly order stand.

Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn!

See there the olive-grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.

And, following guides whose craft holds no consent With aught that breathes the ethereal element, Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, Unjustly shed, though for the public good.

But whence that sudden check?...

And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!

Ill-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built Upon the ruins of thy glorious name.

O matchless perfidy! portentous lust Of monstrous crime!...

... The marble city wept.

... too just To his own native greatness to desire That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust.

The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair, Mustering a face of haughty[200] sovereignty, To aid a covert purpose, cried—"O ye Approaching Waters of the deep, that share 5 With this green isle my fortunes, come not where Your Master's throne is set."—Deaf was the Sea; Her waves rolled on, respecting his decree Less than they heed a breath of wanton air.[201] —Then Canute, rising from the invaded throne, 10 Said to his servile Courtiers,—"Poor the reach,[202] The undisguised extent, of mortal sway! He only is a King, and he alone Deserves the name (this truth the billows preach) Whose everlasting laws, sea, earth, and heaven, obey." 15 This just reproof the prosperous Dane Drew from the influx of the main, For some whose rugged northern mouths would strain At oriental flattery; And Canute (fact more worthy to be known)[203] 20 From that time forth did for his brows disown The ostentatious symbol of a crown; Esteeming earthly royalty Contemptible as vain.[204] Now hear what one of elder days, 25 Rich theme of England's fondest praise, Her darling Alfred, might have spoken;[205] To cheer the remnant of his host When he was driven from coast to coast, Distressed and harassed, but with mind unbroken:[206] 30 "My faithful followers, lo! the tide is spent That rose, and steadily advanced to fill The shores and channels, working Nature's will Among the mazy streams that backward went, 34 And in the sluggish pools where ships are pent: And now, his[207] task performed, the flood stands still, At the green base of many an inland hill,[CC] In placid beauty and sublime content![208] Such the repose that sage and hero find; Such measured rest the sedulous and good 40 Of humbler name; whose souls do, like the flood Of Ocean, press right on; or gently wind, Neither to be diverted nor withstood, Until they reach the bounds by Heaven assigned."

"A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on!"[CD] —What trick of memory to my voice hath brought 4 This mournful iteration? For though Time, The Conqueror, crowns the Conquered, on this brow Planting his favourite silver diadem, Nor he, nor minister of his—intent To run before him, hath enrolled me yet, Though not unmenaced, among those who lean 10 Upon a living staff, with borrowed sight. —O my own Dora, my belovèd child![209][CE] Should that day come—but hark! the birds salute The cheerful dawn, brightening for me the east; For me, thy natural leader, once again 15 Impatient to conduct thee, not as erst A tottering infant, with compliant stoop From flower to flower supported; but to curb Thy nymph-like step swift bounding o'er the lawn,[CF] Along the loose rocks, or the slippery verge 20 Of foaming torrents.[210]—From thy orisons Come forth; and, while the morning air is yet Transparent as the soul of innocent youth, Let me, thy happy guide, now point thy way, And now precede thee, winding to and fro, 25 Till we by perseverance gain the top Of some smooth ridge, whose brink precipitous Kindles intense desire for powers withheld From this corporeal frame; whereon who stands, Is seized with strong incitement to push forth His arms, as swimmers use, and plunge—dread thought, 31 For pastime plunge—into the "abrupt abyss,"[CG] Where ravens spread their plumy vans, at ease! And yet more gladly thee would I conduct Through woods and spacious forests,—to behold 35 There, how the Original of human art, Heaven-prompted Nature, measures and erects Her temples, fearless for the stately work, Though waves, to every breeze,[211] its high-arched roof, And storms the pillars rock. But we such schools 40 Of reverential awe will chiefly seek In the still summer noon, while beams of light, Reposing here, and in the aisles beyond Traceably gliding through the dusk, recal To mind the living presences of nuns; 45 A gentle, pensive, white-robed sisterhood, Whose saintly radiance mitigates the gloom Of those terrestrial fabrics, where they serve, To Christ, the Sun of righteousness, espoused. Now also shall the page of classic lore, 50 To these glad eyes from bondage freed, again Lie open; and the book of Holy Writ, Again unfolded, passage clear shall yield To heights more glorious still, and into shades More awful, where, advancing hand in hand, 55 We may be taught, O Darling of my care! To calm the affections, elevate the soul, And consecrate our lives to truth and love.[212]

Inmate of a mountain-dwelling, Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed From the watch-towers of Helvellyn; Awed, delighted, and amazed! 5 Potent was the spell that bound thee Not unwilling to obey:[213] For[214] blue Ether's arms, flung round thee, Stilled the pantings of dismay. Lo! the dwindled woods and meadows; 10 What a vast abyss is there! Lo! the clouds, the solemn shadows, And the glistenings—heavenly fair! And a record of commotion Which a thousand ridges yield; 15 Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean Gleaming like a silver shield! Maiden! now take flight;—inherit[215] Alps or Andes—they are thine! With the morning's roseate Spirit, 20 Sweep their length of snowy line; Or survey their[216] bright dominions In the gorgeous colours drest Flung from off the purple pinions, Evening spreads throughout the west![217] 25 Thine are all the coral[218] fountains Warbling in each sparry vault[219] Of the untrodden lunar mountains; Listen to their songs!—or halt, To Niphates' top invited,[CH] 30 Whither spiteful Satan steered; Or descend where the ark alighted, When the green earth re-appeared; For the power of hills is on thee, As was witnessed through thine eye 35 Then, when old Helvellyn won thee To confess their majesty!