Or lonely house, long held the witches' home, "Tis of the rushing of a host in rout, With groans of trampled men, with smarting wounds At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold! But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence! And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd, With groans, and tremulous shudderings-all is overIt tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud! A tale of less affright, And tempered with delight, As Otway's self had framed the tender lay, "Tis of a little child Upon a lonesome wild, Not far from home, but she hath lost her way: And now moans low in bitter grief and fear, And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear. VIII. "Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep : May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth! With light heart may she rise, Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice ; O simple spirit, guided from above, ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.1 Ἰοὺ, ἰοὺ, ὦ ὢ κακά. Ὑπ ̓ αὖ μὲ δεινὸς ὀρθομαντείας πόνος Τὸ μέλλον ἥξει. Καὶ σύ μ' ἐν τάχει παρὼν I. Eschyl. Agam. 1225. PIRIT who sweepest the wild harp of Time! This Ode was composed on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796: and was first published on the last day of that year. Long had I listened, free from mortal fear, Then with no unholy madness Ere yet the entered cloud foreclosed my sight, II. Hither, from the recent tomb, From distemper's midnight anguish ; Ye Woes! ye young-eyed Joys! advance! By Time's wild harp, and by the hand Raises its fateful strings from sleep, And each domestic hearth, Haste for one solemn hour; And with a loud and yet a louder voice, Still echoes the dread name that o'er the earth Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell, III. I marked Ambition in his war-array! I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry- Stunned by Death's twice mortal mace, The insatiate hag shall gloat with drunken eye! Ye that gasped on Warsaw's plain! Sudden blasts of triumph swelling, Oft, at night, in misty train, Rush around her narrow dwelling! The exterminating fiend is fled (Foul her life, and dark her doom) Mighty armies of the dead Dance, like death-fires, round her tomb! Then with prophetic song relate, Each some tyrant-murderer's fate! IV. Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore With many an unimaginable groan Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued, Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with glories shone. Then, his eye wild ardours glancing, From the choired gods advancing, The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet, V. Throughout the blissful throng, Hushed were harp and song: Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven, (The mystic Words of Heaven) Permissive signal make: The fervent Spirit bowed, then spread his wings and spake! "Thou in stormy blackness throning By the Earth's unsolaced groaning, Seize thy terrors, Arm of might! And hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared! Strange, horrible, and foul! By what deep guilt belongs To the deaf Synod, 'full of gifts and lies!' For ever shall the thankless Island scowl, |