Of contemplation; and the azure gloom Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven, His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower. And here the buzz of eager nations ran, I see before me the Gladiator lie: Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes All this rushed with his blood. Shall he expire R The Ocean FROM "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE" OLL on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean-roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin-his control Stops with the shore-upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Thy shores are empires, changed in all save theeAssyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts-not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' playTime writes no wrinkle on thine azure browSuch as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm, Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime T The Eve of Waterloo FROM "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE" HERE was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men: A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind, No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. ... But hark!-that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed, While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! They come! they come!" And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, Battle's magnificently stern array! —the day, The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent. TH From "Manfred" HE stars are forth, the moon above the tops I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world. I do remember me, that in my youth, When I was wandering-upon such a night |