Is breathed upon by hope's perpetual breath:
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital, and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
ENGLAND! the time is come when thou shouldst wean Thy heart from its emasculating food;
The truth should now be better understood;
Old things have been unsettled; we have seen
Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been
But for thy trespasses; and, at this day,
If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa,
Aught good were destined, thou wouldst step between. England, all nations in this charge agree!
But worse, more ignorant in love and hate,
Far, far more abject is thine enemy:
Therefore the wise pray for thee, though the freight Of thy offences be a heavy weight:
Oh grief! that earth's best hopes rest all with thee!
WHEN, looking on the present face of things,
I see one man, of men the meanest too!
Raised up to sway the world, to do, undo,
With mighty nations for his underlings,
The great events with which old story rings
Seem vain and hollow: I find nothing great;
Nothing is left which I can venerate;
So that almost a doubt within me springs
Of Providence, such emptiness at length
Seems at the heart of all things. But great God !
I measure back the steps which I have trod,
And tremble, seeing, as I do, the strength
Of such poor instruments; with thoughts sublime
I tremble at the sorrow of the time.
TO THE MEN OF KENT, OCTOBER 1803.
VANGUARD of liberty, ye men of Kent!
Ye children of a soil that doth advance
Its haughty brow against the coast of France,
Now is the time to prove your hardiment!
To France be words of invitation sent!
They from their fields can see the countenance
Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance,
And hear you shouting forth your brave intent.
Left single, in bold parley, ye, of yore,
Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath :
Confirmed the charters that were yours before.
No parleying now! In Britain is one breath;
We all are with you now from shore to shore:
Ye men of Kent, 'tis victory or death!
Six thousand veterans practised in war's game,
Tried men, at Killiecrankie were arrayed
Against an equal host that wore the plaid,
Shepherds and herdsmen. Like a whirlwind came
The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame;
And Garry, thund'ring down his mountain-road,
Was stopped, and could not breathe beneath the load
Of the dead bodies. 'Twas a day of shame
For them whom precept and the pedantry
Of cold mechanic battle do enslave.
Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee
Who on that day the word of onset gave!
Like conquest would the men of England see:
And her foes find a like inglorious grave.
ANTICIPATION, OCTOBER 1803.
SHOUT, for a mighty victory is won!
On British ground the invaders are laid low;
The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow,
And left them lying in the silent sun,
Never to rise again!-the work is done.
Come forth ye old men now, in peaceful show,
And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow!
Make merry, wives! ye little children stun
Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise!
Clap, infants, clap your hands! divine must be
That triumph, when the very worst, the pain,
And e'en the prospect of our brethren slain,
Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:
In glory will they sleep, and endless sanctity.
ANOTHER year! another deadly blow!
Another mighty empire overthrown!
And we are left, or shall be left, alone;
The last that dares to struggle with the foe.
'Tis well! from this day forward we shall know
That in ourselves our safety must be sought:
That by our own right hands it must be wrought,
That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low.
O dastard, whom such foretaste does not cheer!
We shall exult, if they who rule the land
Be men who hold its many blessings dear,
Wise, upright, valiant; not a venal band,
Who are to judge of danger which they fear,
And honour, which they do not understand.
Sonnets dedicated to Liberty.
ON A CELEBRATED EVENT IN HISTORY.
A ROMAN master stands on Grecian ground,
And to the concourse of the Isthmian games
He, by his herald's voice, aloud proclaims
"The liberty of Greece:"-the words rebound
Until all voices in one voice are drowned;
Glad acclamation by which air was rent
And birds, high flying in the element,
Dropped to the earth, astonished at the sound!
A melancholy echo of that noise
Doth sometimes hang on musing Fancy's ear;
Ah! that a conqueror's words should be so dear;
Ah! that a boon could shed such rapturous joys!
A gift of that which is not to be given
By all the blended powers of earth and heaven.
WHEN, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn The tidings passed of servitude repealed,
And of that joy which shook the Isthmian field,
The rough Etolians siniled with bitter scorn.
""Tis known," cried they, "that he who would adorn
His envied temples with the Isthmian crown,
Must either win, through effort of his own,
The prize, or be content to see it worn
By more deserving brows. Yet so ye prop,
Sons of the brave who fought at Marathon,
Your feeble spirits. Greece her head hath bowed,
As if the wreath of liberty thereon
Would fix itself as smoothly as a cloud
Which, at Jove's will, descends on Pelion's top!"
TO THOMAS CLARKSON, ON THE FINAL PASSING OF THE BILL FOR
THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE, MARCH 1807.
CLARKSON! it was an obstinate hill to climb:
How toilsome, nay, how dire it was, by thee
Is known--by none, perhaps, so feelingly;
But thou, who, starting in thy fervent prime,
Didst first lead forth this pilgrimage sublime,
Hast heard the constant voice its charge repeat,
Which, out of thy young heart's oracular seat,
First roused thee, O true yoke-fellow of time.
With unabating effort, see, the palm
Is won, and by all nations shall be worn!
The bloody writing is for ever torn,
And thou henceforth shalt have a good man's calm,
A great man's happiness; thy zeal shall find
Repose at length, firm friend of human kind!
A PROPHECY, FEBRUARY 1807.
HIGH deeds, O Germans, are to come from you!
Thus in your books the record shall be found,
"A watchword was pronounced, a potent sound,
ARMINIUS!--all the people quaked like dew
Stirred by the breeze-they rose, a nation true,
True to itself-the mighty Germany,
She of the Danube and the Northern Sea,
She rose, and off at once the yoke she threw.
All power was given her in the dreadful trance--
Those new-born kings she withered like a flame.
Woe to them all! but heaviest woe and shame
To that Bavarian who did first advance
His banner in accursed league with France,
First open traitor to a sacred name!
COMPOSED WHILE THE AUTHOR WAS ENGAGED IN WRITING A
TRACT, OCCASIONED BY THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA, 1808.
Nor 'mid the world's vain objects which enslave
The free-born soul,-that world whose vaunted skill
In selfish interest perverts the will,
Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave,-
Not there! but in dark wood and rocky cave,
And hollow vale, which foaming torrents fill
With omnipresent murmur as they rave
Down their steep beds that never shall be still.
Here, mighty Nature! in this school sublime
I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain;
For her consult the auguries of time,
And through the human heart explore my way,
And look and listen, gathering, where I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.
COMPOSED AT THE SAME TIME AND ON THE SAME OCCASION.
I DROPPED my pen, and listened to the wind
That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tossed:
A midnight harmony, and wholly lost
To the general sense of men by chains confined
Of business, care, or pleasure, or resigned
To timely sleep. Thought I, th' impassioned strain,
Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain,
Like acceptation from the world will find."
Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink
A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past,
And to the attendant promise will give heed,
The prophecy, like that of this wild blast,
Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink,
Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.
OF mortal parents is the hero born
By whom the undaunted Tyrolese are led?
Or is it Tell's great spirit, from the dead
Returned, to animate an age forlorn?
He comes like Phoebus through the gates of morn,
When dreary darkness is discomfited:
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