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Fear, while he trembles at the strain, Half thrill'd with joy, half pierc'd with pain, Won with thy song will call thee bride; But Hope enchanted lures aside, And bids thee wave thy rosy hand, With jocund mien and gesture bland; To hail the joyous coming year, With Hope in prospect ever near; Or snatch the rip'ning harvest's store, E'erdreary Winter's glooms be o'er. Now link'd with moping Melancholy, Musing, nymph, demure in folly ; To glades and gloomy grottos running. Thon art joy and day-light shunning. Now wand'ring wild with mad Remorse, Giant Terror tracks thy course; To shake the murderer's anxious breast, And rob his tortur'd soul of rest. In vain Night's opiate dews are shed. Where Guilt with spectres haunts the bed, And Fancy lifts the blecding steel, And bids the knell of death to peal ; Or bodied in terrific form, Thro'lurid flashings of the storm, Shows the pale cheek and bleeding side, Mouthing its wounds, and gaping wide ; With gory gouts and clotted hair, With pitcous gaze, or vengeful glare.
Now frolic Fancy rides the breeze, That blasts the heath and waves the trees ; Where drivelling crones, o'er Christmas ale, Repeat, the hundredth time, the tale, To watch and while away the night; llow hellish fiends, or fairy sprite, Have stuck with pins the faithless breast Of maids, by lazy night-mare press'd. How christian knights, by love enthrallid, The paynim giant ne'er appallid; How wizard yapours oft mislead, O'er swamps, the traveller and his steed ; Or how the wild self-murderer's ghost, Who lies beneath yon cross-way post, At midnight quits th’unhallow'd ground, And sadly stalks his grave around. The winds blo:x loud, his form appears, And Fancy wakes a thousand fears ;
The gossips shriek and hide their eyes,
Now dare to look the phantom dien.
By haunted stream in upland glade,
Thro' vale of mist or darkling shade,
Stretch'd at their length, in tartan wrapt,
'Tis Fancy brings the vision apt ;
To pining youth and aged seers,
That fill the hardy Scot with fears.
To Love she adds a thousand charms
Brings absent Laura to my arms;
With dreams of rapture glads the night,
And thrills my breast with fond delight.
Best boon by hear'n bostow'd on man,
She lengthens Life's contracted span :
Bound nor by Space, nor ling'ring Time,
Bids Thought range wild from clime to climes
Now roam along vast Ganges' course,
Now wand'ring up the Nile's dark source;
Een fly beyond the solar light,
To pierce the void of endless Night:
Fast friend of Virtue, cheers her days,
And strews with pleasure all her ways;
Spreads for Content the genial board,
That seems with lavish plenty stord ;
Lust, Envy, Hate, Revenge, enchains,
Aud racks them with redoubling pains.
To thee devote my hoy.hood past,
May thy blest reign, O Fancy ! last;
Still cheer me e'en through care aud strife,
Nor let me feel the ills of life.
o thee, great orator, whose early mind
1 Broke forth with splendour, that amaz'd mankind;
To thee, whose lips with eloquence were fraught,
By which the aged and the learn’d were taught;
To thee, the wonder of Britannia's isle,
A grateful senate rears this marble pile ;
Convinc'd that after-ages must approve
This pious token of a nation's lore.
Here, tho' the sculptor simply grave thy name,
It gives thy titles and records thy fame;
Thy great endowments had we aim'd to trace,
The swelling catalogue had wanted space,
Tho' vast the range of thine expansive soul,
Thy God and country occupied the whole ;
In that dread hour when ev'ry heart is tried,
The Christian triumph'd while the mortal died;
In the last gasp of thine expiring breath,.
The pray’r yet quiver'd on the lip of death :
Hear this, ye Britons, and to God be true,
For know that dying pray’r was breath'd for you.
SONNETS DEDICATED TO LIBERTY.
· 'From Wordsworth's Poems, Vol I.
ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLC.
O NCE did She hold the gorgeous East in fee ;
And was the safeguard of the West : the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty...
She was a Maiden City, bright and free ;
No guile seduced, no force could violate ;
And when She took unto herself a Mate
She must és pouse thereverlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay,
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid.
When her long life 'hath reach'd its final day :
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade
Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
THE Voice of Song from distant lands shall call
To that great King; shall hail the crowned Youth Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth, By onc example hath set forth to all How they with dignity may stand; or fall, If fall they must. . Ņow, whither doth it tend ? And what to him and his shall be the end ? That thought is one which neither can appal Nor cheer him ; for the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be: He stands abore
All consequences : work he hath begun...
Of fortitude, and piety, and luve,
Which all his glorious ancestors approve:
The Heroes bless him, him their rightful Son.
TO TOUISSAINT LOUVERTURE.
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy Man of Men !
1 Whether the rural Milk-maid by her Cow
Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now
Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den,
O miserable chieftain ! where and when
Wilt thou find patience ? Yet die not; do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies ;
There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.
THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET-
W HERE art thou, my beloved Son,
W Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me prosperous or undone!
Or if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same
That I may rest ; and neither blame,
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
Seven years, alas, to have receiv'd
No tidings of an only child;
To have despair'd and have believ'd,
And be for evermore beguild,
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss !
I catch at them, and then I miss ;
Was ever darkness like to this?
Ile was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold :