As aptly suits therewith that timid pace,
Framed in subjection to the chains
That bind thee to the path which God ordains
That thou shalt trace,
Till, with the heavens and earth, thou pass away!
Nor less the stillness of these frosty plains-
Their utter stillness,-and the silent grace
Of yon ethereal summits white with snow,
Whose tranquil pomp, and spotless purity
Report of storms gone by
To us who tread below,
Do with the service of the day accord.
Divinest object which the uplifted eye
Of mortal man is suffered to behold;
Thou, who upon yon snow-clad heights hast poured
Meek splendour, nor forgot'st the humble vale,
Thou who dost warm earth's universal mould,
And for thy beauty were not unadored
Once more, heart-cheering Sun, I bid thee hail!
Bright be thy course to-day; let not this promise fail!
'Mid the deep quiet of this morning hour,
All nature seems to hear me while I speak,
By feelings urged, that do not vainly seek
Apt language, ready as the tuneful notes
That stream in blithe succession from the throats
Of birds in leafy bower,
Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower.
-There is a radiant but a short-lived flame,
That burns for poets in the dawning east,-
And oft my soul hath kindled at the same,
When the captivity of sleep had ceased;
But He who fixed immovably the frame
Of the round world, and built, by laws as strong,
A solid refuge for distress,
The towers of righteousness;
He knows that from a holier altar came
The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice-
Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise
The current of this matin song,
That deeper far it lies
Than aught dependent on the fickle skies.
Have we not conquered? By the vengeful sword?
Ah, no!-by dint of magnanimity;
That curbed the baser passions, and left free
A loyal band to follow their liege lord,
Close-sighted Honour, and his staid compeers,
Along a track of most unnatural years,
In execution of heroic deeds,
Whose memory, spotless as the crystal beads
Of morning dew upon the untrodden meads,
Shall live enrolled above the starry spheres !
Who to the murmurs of an earthly string
Of Britain's acts would sing,
He with enraptured voice will tell
Of one whose spirit no reverse could quell:
Of one that 'mid the failing never failed.
Who paints how Britain struggled and prevailed,
Shall represent her labouring with an eye
Of circumspect humanity;
Shall show her clothed with strength and skill,
All martial duties to fulfil;
Firm as a rock in stationary fight;
In motion rapid as the lightning's gleam;
Fierce as a flood-gate bursting in the night
To rouse the wicked from their giddy dream--
Woe, woe to all that face her in the field!
Appalled she may not be, and cannot yield.
And thus is missed the sole true glory
That can belong to human story!
At which they only shall arrive
Who through the abyss of weakness dive.
The very humblest are too proud of heart:
And one brief day is rightly set apart
To Him who lifteth up and layeth low,
For that Almighty God to whom we owe--
Say not, that we have vanquished-but that we survive.
How dreadful the dominion of the impure!
Why should the song be tardy to proclaim
That less than power unbounded could not tame
That soul of evil, which, from hell let loose,
Had filled the astonished world with such abuse
As boundless patience only could endure?
Wide-wasted regions-cities wrapped in flame-
Who sees, and feels, may lift a streaming eye
To Heaven, who never saw may heave a sigh.
But the foundation of our nature shakes,
And with an infinite pain the spirit aches,
When desolated countries, towns on fire,
Are but the avowed attire
Of warfare urged with desperate mind
Against the life of virtue in mankind;
Assaulting without ruth
The citadels of truth;
While the old forest of civility
Is doomed to perish, to the last fair tree.
A crushing purpose, a distracted will,
Opposed to hopes that battened upon scorn,
And to desires, whose ever-waxing horn
Not all the light of earthly power could fill;
Opposed to dark, deep plots of patient skill,
And the celerities of inward force
Which, spurning God, had flung away remorse,
What could they gain but shadows of redress?
-So bad proceeded, propagating worse;
And discipline was passion's dire excess.
Widens the fatal web-its lines extend,
And deadliest poisons in the chalice blend:
When will your trials teach you to be wise,
O prostrate lands !-consult your agonies!
No more the guilt is banished,
And with the guilt the shame is fled, And with the guilt and shame the woe hath vanished, Shaking the dust and ashes from her head! -No more these lingerings of distress Sully the limpid stream of thankfulness. What robe can Gratitude employ
So seemly as the radiant vest of Joy?
What steps so suitable as those that move
In prompt obedience to spontaneous measures
Of glory, and felicity, and love,
Surrendering the whole heart to sacred pleasures?
Land of our fathers! precious unto me
Since the first joys of thinking infancy;
When of thy gallant chivalry I read,
And hugged the volume on my sleepless bed!
O England! dearer far than life is dear,
If I forget thy prowess, never more
Be thy ungrateful son allowed to hear
Thy green leaves rustle, or thy torrents roar.
But how can he be faithless to the past
Whose soul, intolerant of base decline,
Saw in thy virtue a celestial sign,
That bade him hope, and to his hope cleave fast!
The nations strove with puissance; at length
Wide Europe heaved, impatient to be cast
With all her living strength,
With all her armed powers
Upon the offensive shores.
The trumpet blew a universal blast!
But thou art foremost in the field; there stand-
Receive the triumph destined to thy hand!
All states have glorified themselves; their claims
Are weighed by Providence in balance even;
And now, in preference to the mightiest names,
To thee the exterminating sword is given.
Dread mark of approbation, justly gained!
Exalted office, worthily sustained!
Imagination ne'er before content,
But aye ascending, restless in her pride;
From all that man's performance could present
Stoops to that closing deed magnificent,
And with the embrace is satisfied.
Fly, ministers of Fame,
Whate'er your means, whatever help ye claim,
Bear through the world these tidings of delight!
Hours, days, and months have borne them on the sight
Of mortals, travelling faster than the shower
That landward stretches from the sea,
The morning's splendour to devour;
But their appearance scattered ecstasy-
And heart-sick Europe blessed the healing power
"The shock is given, the adversaries bleed—
Lo, justice triumphs! Earth is freed!"
Such glad assurance suddenly went forth-
It pierced the caverns of the sluggish North;
It found no barrier on the ridge
Of Andes; frozen gulfs became its bridge;
The vast Pacific gladdens with the freight;
Upon the lakes of Asia 'tis bestowed:
The Arabian desert shapes a willing road
Across her burning breast,
For the refreshing incense from the West!
Where snakes and lions breed,
Where towns and cities thick as stars appear,
Wherever fruits are gathered, or where'er
The upturned soil receives the hopeful seed--
While the sun rules, and 'cross the shades of night
The unwearied arrow hath pursued its flight.
The eyes of good men thankfully give heed,
And in its sparkling progress read
How virtue triumphs, from her bondage freed!
Tyrants exult to hear of kingdoms won,
And slaves are pleased to learn that mighty feats are
Even the proud realm, from whose distracted borders
The messenger of good was launched in air,
France, conquered France-amid her wild disorders
Feels, and hereafter shall the truth declare,
That she too lacks not reason to rejoice,
And utter England's name with sadly plaintive voice.
Preserve, O Lord! within our hearts
The memory of thy favour,
That else insensibly departs,
And loses its sweet savour.
Lodge it within us! As the power of light
Lives inexhaustibly in precious gems,
Fixed on the front of Eastern diadems,
So shines our thankfulness for ever bright!
What offering, what transcendent monument,
Shall our sincerity to thee present?
-Not work of hands, but trophies that may reach
To highest Heaven--the labours of the soul;
That builds, as thy unerring precepts teach,
Upon the inward victories of each,
Her hope of lasting glory for the whole.
Yet, might it well become that city now,
Into whose breast the tides of grandeur flow,
To whom all persecuted men retreat;
If a new temple lift its votive brow
Upon the shores of silver Thames-to greet
The peaceful guest advancing from afar !
Bright to the distant fabric, as a star
Fresh risen-and beautiful within !-there meet
Dependence infinite, proportions just;
A pile that grace approves, and time can trust.
But if the valiant of the land,
In reverential modesty, demand
That all observance, due to them, be paid
Where their severe progenitors are laid ;
Kings, warriors, high-souled poets, saint-like sages,
England's illustrious sons of long, long ages;
Be it not unordained that solemn rites
Within the circuit of those Gothic walls,
Shall be performed at pregnant intervals;
Commemoration holy, that unites
The living generation with the dead;
By the deep soul-moving sense
Of religious eloquence,-
By visual pomp, and by the tie
Of sweet and threatening harmony;
Soft notes, awful as the omen,
Of destructive tempests coming
And escaping from that sadness
Into elevated gladness;
While the white-robed choir attendant,
Under mould'ring banners pendent,
Provoke all sympathies to raise
Songs of victory and praise
For them who bravely stood unhurt-or bled
With medicable wounds-or found their graves
Upon the battle-field, or under ocean's waves;
Or were conducted home in single state
And long procession, there to lie,
Where their son's sons, and all posterity,
Unheard by them, their deeds shall celebrate!
Nor will the God of peace and love
Such martial service disapprove.
He guides the pestilence-the cloud
Of locusts travels on his breath;
The region that in hope was ploughed
His drought consumes, his mildew taints with
death;
He springs the hushed volcano's mine;
He puts the earthquake on her still design;
Darkens the sun; hath bade the forest sink,
And, drinking towns and cities, still can drink
Cities and towns. "Tis thou-the work is thine!
The fierce tornado sleeps within thy courts-
He hears the word-he flies-
And navies perish in their ports;
For thou art angry with thine enemies!
For these, and for our errors,
And sins that paint their terrors,
We bow our heads before thee; and we laud
And magnify thy name, Almighty God!
But thy most dreaded instrument,
In working out a pure intent,
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