Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd: And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then, again,
With curses, cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth, and howled.
Still Onward!" was his stern exclaim;
"Charge on the battery's jaws of flame!
Rush on the level gun!
Each Hulan forward with his lance!
My steel-clad cuirassiers advance!
My guard, my chosen, charge for France!
France and Napoleon!"
I am giddy expectation whirls me round.
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense: what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice reputed nectar? Death, I fear me;
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers;
I fear it much; and I do fear, besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.
Would that he yet might live! even now I heard The legate's followers whisper, as they passed, They had a warrant for his instant death;
All was prepared by unforbidden means,
Which we must pay so dearly, having done;
Even now they search the tower, and find the body,
Now they suspect the truth; now they consult
Before they come to tax us with the fact;
O, horrible! 't is all discovered!
Dare nobly, then; but, conscious of your trust,
As ever warm and bold, be ever just;
Nor court applause in these degenerate days-
The villain's censure is extorted praise.
But chief, be steady in a noble end,
And show mankind that truth has yet a friend
'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write,
As foplings grin to show their teeth are white;
To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile:
'Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art,
You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
When all is known, the darkest fate
The smitten heart may learn to bear,
And feel, when time can not abate,
The settled calmness of despair;
But who can well endure the grief-
Which knows no refuge or defense,
That age of pain, in moments brief—
The untold anguish of suspense!
When once the first rude shock is past,
The heart may still the storm outride,
As, from the wreck around it cast,
It finds support to breast the tide;
But thus to linger day by day,
A prey to that foreboding sense
Which gives a pang to each delay,
And agonizes with suspense!
Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial:
He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand addressed: But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amid the festal-sounding shades,
To some unwearied minstrel dancing;
While as his flying fingers kissed the strings,
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round:
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,
And he amid his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wing.
Every thing contains within itself
The seeds and sources of its own corruption; The cankering rust corrodes the brightest steel: The moth frets out your garment, and the worm Eats its slow way into the solid oak:
of all evil things the worst, The same to-day, to-morrow, and forever,
Saps and consumes the heart in which it works.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.
When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe,
And led me up to man.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life,
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
If they but speak the truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life 'reft me so much of friends
But they shall find awaked, in such a kind,
Both strength of limb and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them thoroughly.
All's for the best! be sanguine and cheerful,
Trouble and Sorrow are friends in disguise;
Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful,
Courage forever is happy and wise:
All's for the best-if a man would but know it,
Providence wishes us all to be blest;
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Heaven is gracious, and-All's for the best!
All's for the best! set this on your standard,
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of Despair may have wandered,
A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove;
All's for the best!-be a man but confiding,
Providence tenderly governs the rest;
And the frail bark of his creature is guiding
Wisely and warily, all for the best.
Oh! I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days.
So full of dismal terror was the time!
My dream was lengthened after life:-
Oh! then began the tempest to my soul!-
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream!
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would beat!—Pluto and hell!
All hurt behind: backs red, and faces pale
With flight and agued fear!-Mend, and charge home,
Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe,
And make my wars on you: look to't: come on!
How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him, for he is a Christian;
But more, for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance with us here in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him!
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