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Thou, o'er the shrines of fallen gods

On classic plains dost mantling spread, And veil the desolate abodes

And cities of the dead. Deserted palaces of kings,

Arches of triumph, long o'erthrown, And all once glorious earthly things,

At length are thine alone.

Oh! many a temple, once sublime,

Beneath the blue, Italian sky, Hath nought of beauty left by time,

Save thy wild tapestry : And, reared 'midst crags and clouds, 'tis thine

To wave where banners waved of yore ; O'er mould'ring towers, by lovely Rhine,

Cresting the rocky shore.

High from the fields of air look down

Those eyries of a vanished race,
Homes of the mighty, whose renown

Hath passed, and left no trace.
But thou art there—thy foliage bright

Unchanged the mountain-storm can brave, Thou that wilt climb the loftiest height,

And deck the humblest grave.

The breathing forms of Parian stone,

That rise round grandeur's marble halls, The vivid hues, by painting thrown

Rich o'er the glowing walls ;

Th’ Acanthus, on Corinthian fanes,

In sculptured beauty waving fair ; These perish all-and what remains ?

Thou, thou alone, art there!

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'Tis still the same where'er we tread,

The wrecks of human pow'r we see,
The marvels of all ages fled,

Left to decay and thee !
And still let man his fabrics rear,

August in beauty, grace and strength,
Days pass-thou, Ivy, never sere,

And all is thine at length!

ODE ON THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON.

ANONYMOUS,

NOBLE spiriti hast thou fled,
Is thy glorious journey sped,
Thy days of brightness numbered, -

Soul of dread sublimity!

Hast thou burst thy prison bands,
Twined round thee by coward hands,
Hast thou fled to other lands,

Where thou must-thou wilt be free:

Tyrants ! cowards ! mark the day,
Even now 'tis on the way,
When your names, to scorn a prey,

Shall live with endless infamy!

Hark, 'tis victory's deathless knell! -
Lodi shall remember well I.
Austerlitz! Marengo! tell

Of his glorious chivalry !

Tell his deeds by field and flood !
Witness river, mountain, wood !
Show his path of fire and blood,

That burned behind him gloriously!

Alas! that hero's life should close
In languid, fameless, dull repose
Far from the contest that bestows

On mortals immortality.

Alas! that he, the great, the brave, Should fill a hermit's bloodless grave, Where never rolled the hallowing wave

Of battle and of victory!

He should have died on bloody field, Where column after column wheeled, Where cannon roared and charger reeled,

Amid destruction's revelry.

He should have laid his glorious head
Amid the wreck himself had made,
Ten thousand corpses round him spread,

The flow'r of all his enemy.

Spirit of undying name,
Endless honour thou shalt claim,

Whilst thy foes, unknown to fame,

Shall weep in cold obscurity!

Glory's hallowed light divine
Ever on thy head shall shine,
And valour's heart will be thy shrine,

Thy portion vast futurity!

ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.

BARRY CORNWALL.

O Thou vast Ocean! ever-sounding sea ! Thou symbol of a drear immensity! Thou thing that windest round the solid world Like a huge animal, which, downward hurl'd From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone, Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone. Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep Is like a giant's slumber, loud and deep. Thou speakest in the east and in the west At once, and on thy heavily laden breast Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life Or motion, yet are moved and meet in strife. The earth hath nought of this; nor chance nor change Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare Give answer to the tempest-woken air ; But o'er its wastes, the weakly tenants range At will, and wound his bosom as they go. Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow;

But in their stated round the seasons come
And pass like visions to their viewless home,
And come again and vanish : the young Spring
Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming,
And Winter always winds his sullen horn,
And the wild Autumn with a look forlorn
Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies
Weep, and flowers sicken, when the Summer flies.

-Thou only, terrible Ocean, hast a power,
A will, a voice, and in thy wrathful hour,
When thou dost lift thine anger to the clouds,
A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds
Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be driven
Backwards and forwards by the shifting wind,
How quickly dost thou thy great strength unbind,
And stretch thine arms, and war at once with Heaven!

Thou trackless and immeasurable main !
On thee no record ever lived again
To meet the band that writ it; line nor lead
Hath ever fathom'd thy profoundest deeps,
Where haply the huge monster swells and sleeps,
King of his watery limit, who 'tis said
Can move the mighty ocean into storm.-
Oh! wonderful thou art, great element:
And fearful in thy spleeay humours bent,
And lovely in repose : thy summer form
Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves
Make music in earth's dark and winding caves,
I love to wander on thy pebbled beach,
Marking the sunlight at the evening hour,
And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach--
“Eternity, Eternity, and Power.”

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