Of Plato's genius, from its lofty sphere, With self-sufficing solitude, But with majestic lowliness endued, II. Five thousand warriors, -O the rapturous day! 10 Each crowned with flowers, and armed with spear and shield, Or ruder weapon which their course might yield, To Syracuse advance in bright array. Who leads them on? The anxious people see Lo! when the gates are entered, on each hand, On tables set, as if for rites divine; And as the great Deliverer marches by, He looks on festal ground with fruits bestrown; And flowers are on his person thrown 20 330 In boundless prodigality; Nor doth the general voice abstain from prayer, As if a very Deity he were ! III. Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades! Not on the breath of popular applause, But through dependence on the sacred laws. 40 Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwells retired, 50 (More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars) Which Dion learned to measure with sublime delight; But He hath overleaped the eternal bars ; And following guides whose craft holds no consent With aught that breathes the ethereal element, Unjustly shed, though for the public good. Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain, And oft his cogitations sink as low As, through the abysses of a joyless heart, The heaviest plummet of despair can go. But whence that sudden check? that fearful start? He hears an uncouth sound, Anon his lifted eyes Saw, at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound, 60 A Shape of more than mortal size And hideous aspect, stalking round and round. And fiercely swept the marble floor, - His force on Caspian foam to try; IV. 70 So, but from toil less sign of profit reaping, No pause admitted, no design avowed! "Avaunt, inexplicable Guest!-avaunt," Exclaimed the Chieftain, "let me rather see The coronal that coiling vipers make; The torch that flames with many a lurid flake, Which they behold whom vengeful Furies haunt; Move where the blasted soil is not unworn, 80 And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne !" V. But Shapes that come not at an earthly call Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall! 90 Obeys a mystical intent! Your Minister would brush away The spots that to my soul adhere; But should she labor night and day, Whence angry perturbations, — and that look VI. Ill-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built Who, through the portal of one moment's guilt, O matchless perfidy! portentous lust Of monstrous crime ! that horror-striking blade, Shuddered the walls the marble city wept - Of spirit too capacious to require That Destiny her course should change; too just That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust. Released from life and cares of princely state, COMPOSED AT CORA LINN, IN SIGHT OF WALLACE'S TOWER. 1814. — 1820. LORD of the vale! astounding Flood; And yet how fair the rural scene ! Pleased in refreshing dews to steep Hence all who love their country, love Along thy banks, at dead of night Aloft, beneath the moon's pale beam, 1Ο 20 |