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O that the wise from their bright minds would
kindle Such lamps within the dome of this dim world, That the pale name of Priest might shrink and
dwindle Into the hell from which it first was hurled, A scoff of impious pride from fiends impuie,
Till human thoughts might kneel alone,
Each before the judgment-throne Of its own aweless soul, or of the power unknown! O that the words which make the thoughts
obscure From which they spring, as clouds of glim
mering dew From a white lake blot heaven's blue portraiture, Were stript of their thin masks and various
hue And frowns and smiles and splendours not their
Till in the nakedness of false and true
He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever
Can be between the cradle and the grave, Crowned him the King of Life. Oh vain endea
vour ! If on his own high will, a willing slave, He has enthroned the oppression and the op
What if earth can clothe and feed
Amplest millions at their need, (seed? And power in thought be as the tree within the Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor,
Diving on fiery wings to Nature's throne, Checks the great mother stooping to caress her
And cries, give me, thy child, dominion Over all height and depth? if Life can breed
New wants, and wealth from those who toil
Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousand-fold for
Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave
Of man's deep spirit, as the morning-star Beckons the sun from the Eoan wave,
Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car Self-moving like cloud charioted by flame ;
Comes she not, and come ye not,
Rulers of eternal thought, To judge with solemn truth life's ill-apportioned
lot, Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame
Of what has been, the Hope of what will be? 0, Liberty ! if such could be thy name Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from
thee: If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought
By blood or tears, have not the wise and free Wept tears, and blood like tears ?–The solemn
Paused, and the spirit of that mighty singing
To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn ; Then as a wild swan, when sublimely winging
Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn, Sinks headlong through the aërial golden light
On the heavy sounding plain,
When the bolt has pierced its brain ; As summer clouds dissolve unburthened of their
As a far taper fades with fading night;
As a brief insect dies with dying day,– My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,
Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away Of the great voice which did its flight sustain,
As waves which lately paved his watery way Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempost
THE WANING MOON.
And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
From her couch of snows In the Acroceraunian mountains;
From cloud and from crag
With many a jag, Shepherding her bright fountains.
She leapt down the rocks,
With her rainbow locks Streaming among the streams;
Her steps paved with green
The downward raviue Which slopes to the western gleams ;
And gliding and springing,
She went, ever singing, In murmurs as soft as sleep.
The Earth seemed to love her,
And Heaven smiled above her, As she lingered towards the deep.
Then Alpheus bold,
On his glacier cold, With his trident the mountains strook ;
And opened a chasm
In the rocks ;with the spasm All Erymanthus shook.
And the black south wind
It concealed behind T'he urns of the silent snow.
And earthquake and thunder
Did rend in sunder
The beard and the hair
Of the river-god were Seen through the torrent's sweep,
As he followed the light
Of the fleet nymph's flight To the brink of the Dorian deep.
“O save me! O guide me,
And bid the deep hide me, For he grasps me now by the hair!"
The loud Ocean heard,
To its blue depth stirred, And divided at her prayer ;
And under the water
The Earth's white daughter Fled like a sunny beam ;
Behind her descended
Her billows, unblended With the brackish Dorian stream:
Like a gloomy stain
On the emerald main Alpheus rushed behind,
As an eagle pursuing
A dove to its ruin Down the streams of the cloudy wind.