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The Plow-man, following sad his meagre team, (Victims at once and Executioners),
Ocean behind him billows, and before
And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark, Pale Convalescent! (yet some time to rule
Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War, With power exclusive o'er the willing world, And War, his strained sinews knit anew, That bless'd prophetic mandate then fulfillid, Still violate the unfinish'd works of Peace. Peace be on Earth!) A happy white, but brief, But yonder look! for more demands thy view!” She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet,
He said: and straightway from the opposite Isle And heal'd the recent harm of chill and blight, A Vapor sailed, as when a cloud, exhaled And nursed each plant that fair and virtuous grew. From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence,
Travels the sky for many a trackless league, But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow: Till o'er some Death-doom'd land, distant in vain,
It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the Plain, Black rose the clouds, and now (as in a dream) Their reddening shapes, transformed to Warrior- Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose,
And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went. hosts, Coursed o'er the Sky, and battled in mid-air. The Maiden paused, musing what this might mean. Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven But long time pass'd not, ere that brighter cloud Portentous ! while aloft were seen to float, Return'd more bright; along the plain it swept; Like hideous features booming on the mist, And soon from forth its bursting sides emerged Wan Stains of ominous Light! Resign’d, yet sad, A dazzling form, broad-bosom’d, bold of eye, , The fair Form bowed her olive-crowned Brow, And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound. Then o'er the plain with ost-reverted eye
Not more majestic stood the healing God, Flod till a Place of Tombs she reach'd, and there When from his bow the arrow sped that slew Within a ruined Sepulchre obscure
Iluge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng, Found Hiding-place.
And with them hiss'd the Locust-fiends that crawl'd
And glitter'd in Corruption's slimy track.
Great was their wrath, for short they knew their Gazed through her tears, then in sad tones exclaim'd,
reign; “ Thou mild-eyed Form! wherefore, ah! wherefore And such commotion made they, and uproar, fled ?
As when the mad Tornado bellows through The power of Justice, like a name all Light,
The guilty islands of the western main, Shone from thy brow; but all they, who unblamed What time departing from their native shores, Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness.
Eboe, or Koromantyn's* plain of Palms,
* The slaves in the West-Indies consider death as a passport Why sow they guilt, still reaping Misery?
to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace! are sweet, the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of As after showers the perfumed gale of eve,
which the ideas are better than the language in which they That flings the cool drops on a feverous cheek:
are conveyed. And gay the grassy altar piled with fruits.
Ω σκοτου πυλας, θανατε, προλειπων
σπευδοις, υποζευχθεν Ατα: Save that with many an orgie strange and foul,
Ου ξενισθη στη γενυων σπαραγμοι;
Αλλα και κυκλοισι χοροι τυποισι
Κ'ασματων χαρα φοβερος μεν εσσι Beneath the Chieftains' standard !” Thus the Maid.
Αλλ' ομως Ελευθερια συνοικείς,
Δασκιοις επει πτερυγέσσι σησι To her the tutelary Spirit replied :
Α! θαλασσιον καθορωντες οισμα “ When Luxury and Lust's exhausted stores
Αιθεροπλαγτοις υπο ποσσ' ανεισι No more can rouse the appetites of Kings;
llatpid in' aav. When the low flattery of their reptile Lords
Ενθα Falls flat and heavy on the accustom'd ear;
μαν Ερασαι Ερωμενησιν When Eunuchs sing, and Fools buffoonery make,
Αμφι πηγησιν κιτρινων υπ' αλσων, And Dancers writhe their harlot-limbs in vain ;
Οσσ'υπο βρoτοις επαθον βροτσι, τα
Δεινα λεγοναι. "
Leaving the Gates of Darkness, O Death! hasten thou to a Therefore uninjured and unprofited
Race yoked with Misery! Thou wilt not be received with
The infuriate spirits of the Murder'd make Thus saying, from the answering Maid he pass'd,
Nature's vast Ever-acting Energy! “ Maiden beloved, and Delegate of Heaven!"
In Will, in Deed, Impulse of All to All! (To her the tutelary Spirit said)
Whether thy love with unrefraciod ray “Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day,
Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if The stormy Morning into cloudless Noon.
Diseasing realms the enthusiast, wild of thought, Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand
Scatter new frenzies on the infected throng,
Thou both inspiring and predooming both,
Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and lleaven!” lacerations of cheeks, nor with funeral ululation—but with circling dances and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed,
And first a landscape rose, yet thou dwellest with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy More wild and waste and desolate than where dark pinions over the swelling of ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, Howls to her sunder'd cubs with piteous rage being Men, they had endured from Men.
And savage agony.
L. POEMS OCCASIONED BY POLITICAL (may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls
EVENTS OR FEELINGS CONNECTED on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows, WITH THEM.
and devote them for a while to the cause of human nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the
17th of November, 1796 ; having just concluded a When I have borne in memory what has tamed subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against Great nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
France. The first and second Antistrophe describe When men change gwords for legers, and desert
the Image of the Departing Year, etc. as in a vision. The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my country! Am I to be blamed ?
The second Epode prophesies, in anguish of spirit, But, when I think of Thee, and what Thou art,
the downfall of this country. Verily, in the bottom of my heart, or those unfilial fears I am ashamed. But dearly must we prize thee; we who find
I. In thee a bulwark of the cause of men;
Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time! And I by my affection was beguiled.
It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!
Yet, mine eye fix'd on Heaven's unchanging clime, Wordsworth. Long when I listen'd, free from mortal fear,
With inward stillness, and submitted mind; ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.*
When lo! its folds far waving on the wind,
I saw the train of the DEPARTING YEAR! loù, lod, w kard.
Starting from my silent sadness, Υπ' αύ με δεινός ορθομαντείας πόνος
Then with no unholy madness, Στροβεί, ταράσσων φροιμίοις εφημίοις.
Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclosed my sight,
I raised the impetuous song, and solemnized his Το μέλλον ήξει. Και συ μην πάχει παρών
flight. 'Αγαν γ' αληθόμαντιν μ' έρείς.
Hither, from the recent tomb,
From the prison's direr gloom,
From Distemper's midnight anguish ;
And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish,
Or where, his two bright torches blending, Providence, that regulates into one vast harmony all
Love illumines manhood's maze ; the events of time, however calamitous some of them
Or where, o'er cradled infants bending,
Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze, * This Ode was composed on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796: and was first published on the last day of
Hither, in perplexed dance, that year.
Ye Woes ! ye young-eyed Joys! advance!
By Time's wild harp, and by the hand
“ Thou in stormy blackness throning
Love and uncreated Light,
By the Earth's unsolaced groaning,
Seize thy terrors, Arm of might!
By Peace with proffer'd insult sacred,
Masked Hate and envying Scorn!
By Years of Havoc yet unborn!
But chief by Afric's wrongs,
Strange, horrible, and foul !
By what deep guilt belongs Let slip the storm, and woke the blood of Hell :
To the deaf Synod; · full of gifts and lies!' And now advance in saintly Jubilee By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl! Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell,
Avenger,' rise !
Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow !
Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven, O speak aloud!
And on the darkling foe I mark'd Ambition in his war-array!
Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud ! I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry- O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow! “Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay! The past to thee, to thee the future cries ! Groans not her chariot on its onward way ?”. Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below! Fly, mailed Monarch, fly!
Rise, God of Nature ! rise."
No more on Murder's lurid face
The voice had ceased, the vision fled;
Yet still I gasp'd and reeld with dread. When human ruin choked the streams,
And ever, when the dream of night Fell in conquest's glutted hour,
Renews the phantom to my sight, 'Mid women's shrieks and infants' screams !
Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs ; Spirits of the uncoffin'd slain,
My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start; Sudden blasts of triumph swelling,
My brain with horrid tumult swims; Ost, at night, in misty train,
Wild is the tempest of my heart; Rush around her narrow dwelling!
And my thick and struggling breath The exterminating fiend is filed
Imitates the toil of Death ! (Foul her life, and dark her doom)
No stronger agony confounds Mighty armies of the dead
The Soldier on the war-field spread, Dance like death-fires round her tomb!
When all foredone with toil and wounds, Then with prophetic song relate,
Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead! Each some tyrant-murderer's fate !
(The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,
And the night-wind clamors hoarse !
See! the starting wretch's head
Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse!)
My soul beheld thy vision! Where alone,
O Albion! O my mother Isle !
Thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers, Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude,
Glitter green with sunny showers; Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with
Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells glories shone.
Echo to the bleat of flocks Then, his eye wild ardors glancing,
(Those grassy hills, those glittering dells From the choired Gods advancing,
Proudly ramparted with rocks); The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet,
And Ocean, 'mid his uproar wild
Hence, for many a fearless age
Has social Quiet loved thy shore !
Nor ever proud Invader's rage Hush'd were harp and song :
Or sack’d thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore. Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven
(The mystic Words of Heaven), Permissive signal make :
VIII. The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and Abandon'd of Heaven! mad Avarice thy guide, spake!
At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride
'Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast The Monarchs march'd in evil day, stood,
And Britain joined the dire array ; And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood! Though dear her shores and circling ocean, The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering | Though many friendships, many youthful loves
Shall hear Destruction, like a Vulture, scream! Ilad swoln the patriot emotion,
Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves; Of central fires through nether seas upthundering Yet still my voice, unalter’d, sang defeat
Soothes her fierce solitude ; yet, as she lies To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,
And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat! If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise,
I dimm’d thy light or damp'd thy holy flame; The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, But bless'd'the pæans of deliver'd France, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
“ And what," I said, “ though Blasphemy's loud scream In vain, in vain, the Birds of warning sing- With that sweet music of deliverance strove! And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind! A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream! Away, my soul, away!
Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, I, unpartaking of the evil thing,
The Sun was rising, though he hid his light!
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and
trembled, Have wail'd my country with a loud lament. The dissonance ceased, and all seem'd calm and Now I recentre my immortal mind
bright; In the deep sabbath of meek self-content;
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim Conceal'd with clustering wreaths of glory ; God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.
When, insupportably advancing,
While timid looks of fury glancing,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
Then I reproachd my fears that would not flee; “ And soon," I said, “shall Wisdom teach her lore In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
And, conquering by her happiness alone,
Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth Whose pathless march no mortal may control!
their own.” Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws !
IV. Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds' singing, Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sentHave made a solemn music of the wind !
I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams! Where, like a man beloved of God,
Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd ; Through glooms, which never woodman trod, And ye that, feeing, spot your mountain-snows How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
With bleeding wounds; forgive me that I cherish'd My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes ! Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,
To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
A patriot race to disinherit
And with inexpiable spirit
O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, With what deep worship I have still ador'd And patriot only in pernicious toils ! The spirit of divinest Liberty.
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human-kind ?
To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
From Freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band :
Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
They burst their manacles and wear the name Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
O Liberty! with profitless endeavor
And all the crash of onset; fear and rage, Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;
And undetermined conflict-even now, But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever Even now, perchance, and in his native isle ; Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power. Carnage and groans beneath this blessed Sun! Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee
We have offended, Oh! my countrymen! (Not prayer nor boastful name delays thee), We have offended very grievously,
Alike from Priesteraft's harpy minions, And been most tyrannous. From east 10 west And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
groan of accusation pierces Heaven! Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
The wretched plead against us; multitudes The guide of homeless winds, and playmates of the Countless and vehement, the Sons of God, waves!
Our Brethren! Like a cloud that travels on, And there I felt thee-on that sea-cliff's verge, Steam'd up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,
Whose pines, scarce travell’d by the breeze above, Even so, my countrymen! have we gone forth Had made one murmur with the distant surge! And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs, Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, With slow perdition murders the whole man, Possessing all things with intensest love, His body and his soul! Meanwhile, at home, O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
All individual dignity and power
Ingulf'd in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
Associations and Societies,
Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth ;
Contemptuous of all honorable rule,
Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life WRITTEN IN APRIL, 1798, DURING THE ALARM OF For gold, as at a market! The sweet words
of Christian promise, words that even yet AN INVASION.
Might stem destruction were they wisely preachd, A GREEN and silent spot, amid the hills,
Are mutier'd o'er by men, whose tones proclaim A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
How flat and wearisome they feel their trade: No sinking sky-lark ever poised himself.
Rank scoflers some, but most too indolent The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth. Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
Oh! blasphemous! the book of life is made All golden with the never-bloomless furze,
A superstitious instrument, on which Which now blooms most profusely; but the dell,
We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break; Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate
For all must swear--all and in every place, As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,
College and wharf, council and justice-court; When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,
All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed, The level Sunshine glimmers with green light.
Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest, Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook!
The rich, the poor, the old man and the young ; Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefly he,
All, all make up one scheme of perjury, The humble man, who, in his youthful years,
That faith doth reel ; the very name of God Knew just so much of folly, as had made
Sounds like a juggler's charm; and, bold with joy, His early manhood more securely wise !
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, Here he might lie on fern or wither'd heath,
(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism, While from the singing-lark (that sings unseen
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),
Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, And from the Sun, and from the breezy Air,
And hooting at the glorious Sun in Heaven,
Cries out,“ Where is it?"
Thankless too for peace Religious meanings in the forins of nature ! (Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas), And so, his senses gradually wrapt
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
Its ghastlier workings (famine or blue plague,
We, this whole people, have been clamorous
For war and bloodshed; animating sports,
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
(Stuff'd out with big preamble, holy names,