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XXXIV.

November, 1813.

Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,
Our aged Sovereign sits;— to the ebb and flow
Of states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe
Insensible; — he sits deprived of sight,
And lamentably wrapped in twofold night,
Whom no weak hopes deceived; whose mind ensued,
Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,
Peace that should claim respect from lawless Might.
Dread King of Kings, vouchsafe a ray divine
To his forlorn condition! let thy grace
Upon his inner soul in mercy shine;
Permit his heart to kindle, and embrace
(Though were it only for a moment's space)
The triumphs of this hour; for they are Thine!

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ON THE DISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF THE
DUKE D'enghien.

Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mold

Uprisen — to lodge among ancestral kings;

And to inflict shame's salutary stings

On the remorseless hearts of men grown old

In a blind worship; men perversely bold

Even to this hour; yet at this hour they quake;

And some their monstrous Idol shall forsake,

If, to the living, truth was ever told

By aught surrendered from the hollow grave:

O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave!

The power of retribution once was given;

But 'tis a rueful thought that willow-bands

So often tie the thunder-wielding hands

Of Justice, sent to earth from highest Heaven!

XXXVI.

OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

( The last six lines intended for an Inscription.)
February, 1816.

Intrepid sons of Albion I — not by you

Is life despised! — Ah no — the spacious earth

Ne'er saw a race who held, by right of birth,

So many objects to which love is due:

Ye slight not life — to God and Nature true;

But death, becoming death, is dearer far,

When duty bids you bleed in open war:

Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious crew.

Heroes! for instant sacrifice prepared,

Yet filled with ardour, and on triumph bent,

Mid direst shocks of mortal accident,

To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared,

To guard the fallen, and consummate the event,

Your Country rears this sacred Monument!

XXXVII.

OCCASIONED BY THE SAME BATTLI.

February, 1816.

The Bard, whose soul is meek as dawning day, Yet trained to judgments righteously severe;Fervid, yet conversant with holy fear, As recognizing one Almighty sway:He whose experienced eye can pierce the array Of past events, — to whom, in vision clear, The aspiring heads of future things appear, Like mountain-tops whose mists have rolled away:Assoiled from all incumbrance of our time, * He only, if such breathe, in strains devout Shall comprehend this victory sublime;And worthily rehearse the hideous rout, Which the blest Angels, from their peaceful clime Beholding, welcomed with a choral shout.

* "From all this world's encumbrance did himself assoil."

Spenter.

XXXVIII.

February, 1816.

O, For a kindling touch of that pure flame
Which taught the offering of song to rise
From thy lone bower, beneath Italian skies,
Great Filicaia ! —With celestial aim
It rose, — thy saintly rapture to proclaim,
Then, when the imperial city stood released
From bondage threatened by the embattled East,
And Christendom respired; from guilt and shame
Redeemed, — from miserable fear set free
By one day's feat — one mighty victory.
— Chaunt the Deliverer's praise in every tongue!
The cross shall spread, — the crescent hath waxed dim,—
He conquering—as in Earth and Heaven was sung—

HE CONQUERING THROUGH GOD, AND GOD BY HIM.*

* Ond" e ch' Io grido e griderb: giugnesti,

Guerregiasti, e vincesti;

Si, si, vincesti, o Campion forte e pio,

Per Dio vincesti, e per te vinse Iddio. See Filicaia's Canzone, addressed to John Sobieski, king of Poland, upon his raising the siege of Vienna. This, and his other poems on the same occasion, are superior perhaps to any lyrical pieces that contemporary events have ever given birth to, those of the Hebrew Scriptures only excepted.

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