Taxas and wise.

Winds blow, and Waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity, Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree fruire in ws to them, and said that by the Soul Only the Nations shall be great and free.*

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.

XII.

THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGA. TION OF SWITZERLAND.

Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,

se of the Mountains; each a mighty Voice:
both from age to age Thou didst rejoice,
Ray were thy chosen Music, Liberty!
There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee

Tou fought'st against Him; but hast vainly striven:
The from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
uf roe deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft:
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left;
Fragh-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be
Tat mountain Floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
Lad neither awful Voice be heard by thee!

XV.

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, 't is 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!

XVI.

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.

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!

XVIII.

OCTOBER, 1803.

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 't is a chosen soil, where sun and breeze
Shed gentle favours; rural works are there;
And ordinary business without care!

Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please!
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!

XXI.

ENGLAND! the time is come when thou should'st we

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,

Aught good were destined, Thou would'st step betwe
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!

XIX.

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 which 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.

XXII.

OCTOBER, 1803.

WHEN, looking on the present state 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 almost a doubt 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.

XX.

OCTOBER, 1803.

THESE times touch moneyed 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?

XXIII.

TO THE MEN OF KENT.-OCTOBER, 180 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, 't is Victory or Death!

XXIV.

ANTICIPATION.-OCTOBER, 1803.

Sever, for a mighty Victory is won!

British ground the Invaders are laid low;

The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow,
And left them lying in the silent sun,
Vever 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
Y or Grandames' ears with pleasure of your noise:
Cap Infants, clap your hands! Divine must be
That thumph, when the very worst, the pain,
La even the prospect of our Brethren slain,
Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:
glory will they sleep and endless sanctity.

XXV.

NOVEMBER, 1806.

ANOTHER year!-another deadly blow!
Ather mighty empire overthrown!
And We are left, or shall be left, alone;
The last that dare to struggle with the Foe.
Ta well! from this day forward we shall know
That in ourselves our safety must be sought;
Tal by our own right hand it must be wrought,
That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low.
Dastard whom such foretaste doth not cheer!
We shall exult, if They who rule the land

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.

XXVI. ODE.

1.

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!
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,
Ant calls a look of love into her face,

Lad spreads her arms as if the general air
Aone could satisfy her wide embrace.
-Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
ther love ye hailed — her wrath have felt!

She through many a change of form hath gone, A stands amaist you now, an armed Creature, Whose panoply is not a thing put on,

But the live scales of a portentous nature;

That, having wrought its way from birth to birth, Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven, a terror to the

Earth!

2.

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;
Whether the mighty Beam in scorn upheld,
Threatened her foes, or pompously at rest,
Seemed to bisect her orbed shield,

As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud

Across the setting Sun, and through the fiery West.

3.

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?

See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute-
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field pastime, high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!

-

And half their Host is buried: - rock on rock
Descends: beneath this godlike Warrior, see!
Hills, Torrents, Woods, embodied to bemock
The Tyrant, and confound his cruelty.

VII.

ID WHILE THE AUTHOR WAS ENGAGED IN WRITING A TRACT,
OCCASIONED BY THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA, 1808.

Nor 'mid the World's vain objects! that enslave
The free-born Soul, that World whose vaunted skill
selfish interest perverts the will,

Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave;
Not there! but in dark wood and rocky cave,
And hellow wave which foaming torrents fill
With Omnipresent murmur as they rave
Down their steep beds, that never shall be still:
Here, mighty Nature! in this school sublime
I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain:
For her consult the auguries of time,
And through the human heart explore my way,
And look, and listen - gathering, whence I may,
Traumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.

X.

ADVANCE- - come forth from thy Tyrolean ground.
Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed,
Sweet Nymph, O rightly of the mountains named!
Through the long chain of Alps from mound to mound
And o'er the eternal snows, like Echo, bound, -
Like Echo, when the Hunter-train at dawn
Have roused her from her sleep: and forest-lawn,
Cliffs, woods, and caves, her viewless steps resound
And babble of her pastime! On, dread Power!
With such invisible motion speed thy flight,
Through hanging clouds, from craggy height to height,
Through the green vales and through the Herdsman's
bower,

That all the Alps may gladden in thy might, Here, there, and in all places at one hour.

VIII.

COMPOSED AT THE SAME TIME, AND ON THE SAME
OCCASION.

I DROPPED my pen; -and listened to the wind
That sang of trees up-torn and vessels tost;
A midnight harmony, and wholly lost

To the general sense of men by chains confined
Of business, care, or pleasure, or resigned
Te timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain,
Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,
Like acceptation from the World will find.
Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink
A Crge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past,
And to the attendant promise will give heed —
The pephecy,-like that of this wild blast,

Warh, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink,
Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.

IX. HOFFER.

Or mortal Parents is the Hero born
By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led?
Or is it Tell's great Spirit, from the dead
Returned to animate an age forlorn?

He comes like Phœbus through the gates of morn
When dreary darkness is discomfited

Yet wark his modest state! upon his head,
That simple crest, a beron's plume, is worn.
Liberty! they stagger at the shock;

The Murderers are aghast; they strive to flee,

ALAS! what boots the long laborious quest
Of moral prudence, sought through good and ill;
Or pains abstruse to elevate the will,
And lead us on to that transcendent rest
Where every passion shall the sway attest
Of Reason, seated on her sovereign hill;
What is it but a vain and curious skill,
If sapient Germany must lie deprest,
Beneath the brutal sword? Her haughty Schools
Shall blush; and may not we with sorrow say,
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules,
Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought
More for mankind at this unhappy day
Than all the pride of intellect and thought?