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The Plow-man, following sad his meagre team, (Victims at once and Executioners),
Turn'd up fresh sculls unstartled, and the bones The congregated Husbandmen lay waste
Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who there The Vineyard and the Harvest. As long
All mingled lay beneath the common earth, The Bothmic coast, or southward of the Line,
Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the Fields Though hush'd the Winds and cloudless the high
Stept a fair form, repairing all she might,

Her temples olive-wreathed; and where she trod Yet if Leviathan, weary of ease,
Fresh flowerets rose, and many a foodful herb. In sports unwieldy toss his Island-bulk,
But wan her cheek, her footsteps insecure,

Ocean behind him billows, and before
And anxious pleasure beam'd in her faint eye, A storm of waves breaks foamy on the strand.
As she had newly left a couch of pain,

And hence, for times and seasons bloody and dark,
Pale Convalescent! (yet some time to rule Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War,
With power exclusive o'er the willing world, And War, his strained sinews knit anew,
That bless'd prophetic mandate then fulfillid, Still violate the unfinish'd works of Peace.
Peace be on Earth!) A happy white, but brief, But yonder look! for more demands thy view!"
She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet, He said: and straightway from the opposite Isle
And heald the recent harm of chill and blight, A Vapor sailed, as when a cloud, exhaled
And nursed each plant that fair and virtuous grew. From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence,

Travels the sky for many a trackless league, But soon a deep precursive sound moan'd hollow: It broods incumbent. Forthwith from the Plain,

Till o'er some Death-doom'd land, distant in vain, Black rose the clouds, and now (as in a dream) Their reddening shapes, transformed to Warrior- Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose,

And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went. hosts, Coursed o'er the Sky, and battled in mid-air. The Maiden paused, musing what this might mean. Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from Heaven But long time pass'd not, ere that brighter cloud Portentous ! while aloft were seen to float, Return’d more bright; along the plain it swept ; Like hideous features booming on the mist,

And soon from forth its bursting sides emerged Wan Stains of omninous Light! Resign'd, yet sad, A dazzling form, broad-bosound, bold of eye, The fair Form bowed her olive-crowned Brow, And wild her hair, save where with laurels bound. Then o'er the plain with ost-reverted eye

Not more majestic stood the healing God, Fled till a Place of Tombs she reach'd, and there When from his bow the arrow sped that slew Within a ruined Sepulchre obscure

Huge Python. Shriek'd Ambition's giant throng, Found Hiding-place.

And with them hiss'd the Locust-liends that crawl'd

And glitter'd in Corruption's slimy track.
The delegated Maid

Great was their wrath, for short they knew their Gazed through her tears, then in sad tones exclaim'd,

reign; Thou mild-eyed Form! wherefore, ah! wherefore And such commotion made they, and uproar, fled ?

As when the mad Tornado bellows through The power of Justice, like a name all Light,

The guilty islands of the western main,
Shone from thy brow; but all they, who umblamed What time departing from their native shores,
Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happiness.

Eboe, or Koromantyn's* plain of Palms,
Ah! why, uninjured and unprofited,
Should multitudes against their brethren rush?

The slaves in the West Indies consider death as a passport Why sow they guilt, still reaping Misery?

to their native country. This sentiment is thus expressed in Lenient of care, thy songs, O Peace! are sweet, the introduction to a Greek Prize-Ode on the Slave-Trade, of As after showers the persumed gale of eve,

which the ideas are better than the language in which they That flings the cool drops on a severous cheek:

are conveyed. And gay the grassy altar piled with fruits.

Ω σκοτου πυλας, θανατε, προλειπων But boasts the shrine of Dæmon War one charm,

Ες γενος σπευδοις υποζευχθεν Ατα: Save that with many an orgie strange and foul, Ου ξενισθη στη γενυων σπαραγμοί και Dancing around with interwoven arms,

Ουδ' ολολυγμω, The Maniac Suicide and Giant Murder

Αλλα και κυκλοισι Exult in their fierce union? I am sad,

χοροίτυποισι And know not why the simple Peasants crowd

Κ'ασματων χαρα φοβερος μεν εσσι Beneath the Chieftains' standard !” Thus the Maid.

Αλλ' ομως Ελευθερια συνοικείς,

Στυγνε Τυραννε!

Δασκιοις επει πτερυγεσσι σησι To her the tutelary Spirit replied:

Α! θαλασσιον καθορωντες οισμα “ When Luxury and Lust's exhausted stores

Αιθεροπλαγτοις υπο ποσσ' ανεισι No more ca rouse the appetites of Kings;

Πατριδ επ' αιαν. When the low flattery of their reptile Lords

Ενθα Falls flat and heavy on the accustom'd ear;

μαν Ερασαι Ερωμενησιν When Eunuchs sing, and Fools buffoonery make,

Αμφι πηγησιν κιτρινων υπ' αλσων, And Dancers writhe their hærlot-limbs in vain;

Οσσ'υπο βρoτοις επαθον βροτσι, τα
Then War and all its dread vicissitudes

Δεινά λεγοναι.
Pleasingly agitate their stagnant Hearts ;
Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats,
Insipid Royalty's keen condiment !

Leaving the Gates of Darkness, O Death: hasten thou toe Therefore uninjured and unprofited

Race yoked with Misery! Thou will not be received with





The infuriate spirits of the Murder'd make Thus saying, from the answering Maid he pass'd,
Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of Heaven. And with him disappeard the Heavenly Vision.
Warmd with new influence, the unwholesome plain
Sent up its foulest fogs to meet the Morn :

Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven! The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in blood ! All-conscious Presence of the Cniverse!

Nature's vast Ever-acting Energy! - Maiden beloved, and Delegate of Heaven!”

In Will, in Deed, Impulse of All to All! (To her the tutelary Spirit said)

Whether thy love with unrefracted ray

Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day, The stormy Morning into cloudless Noon. Diseasing realms the enthusiast, wild of thought, Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand

Scatter new frenzies on the infected throng,
But this be thy best Omen—Save thy Country!

Thou both inspiring and predooming both,
Fit instruments and best, of perfect end :

Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven!” lacerations of cheeks, nor with funeral ululation--but with cireling dances and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed,

And first a landscape rose, yet thou dwellest with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy More wild and waste and desolate than where dark pinions over the swelling of ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, Howls to her sunder'd cubs with piteous rage being Men, they had endured from Men.

And savage agony.

Sibylline Leaves.

I POEMS OCCASIONED BY POLITICAL may appear to mortals. The second Strophe calls EVENTS OR FEELINGS CONNECTED on men to suspend their private joys and sorrows,

and devote them for a while to the cause of human WITH THEM.

nature in general. The first Epode speaks of the Empress of Russia, who died of an apoplexy on the

17th of November, 1796 ; having just concluded a When I have borne in memory what has tamed subsidiary treaty with the Kings combined against Great nations, bow ennobling thoughts depart

France. The first and second Antistrophe describe When men change swords for legers, and desert

the Image of the Departing Year, etc. as in a vision. The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my country! Am I to be blamed ?

The second Epode prophesies, in anguish of spirit, But, when I think of Thee, and what Thou art,

the downfall of this country.
Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
But dearly must we prize thee; we who find

In thee a bulwark of the cause of men;

Spirit who sweepest the wild Harp of Time! And I by my affection was beguiled.

It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
What wonder if a poet, now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,

Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!
Felt for thee as a Lover or a Child.

Yet, mine eye fix'd on Heaven's unchanging clime, Wordsworth. Long when I listen'd, free from mortal fear,

With inward sullness, and submitted mind; ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.*

When lo! its folds far waving on the wind,

I saw the train of the DEPARTING YEAR!
Ιου, ιού, ώω κακά.

Starting from my silent sadness,
Υπ' αυ με δεινός ορθομαντείας πόνος

Then with no unholy madness, Στροβεί, ταράσσων φροιμίοις έφημίοις.

Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclosed my sight,

I raised the impetuous song, and solemnized his Το μέλλον ήξει. Και συ μην πάχει παρών

'Αγαν γ' αληθόμαντιν μ' έρείς.
Æschyl. Agam. 1225.

Hither, from the recent tomb,

From the prison's direr gloom,

From Distemper's midnight anguish ; The Ode commences with an Address to the Divine And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish, Providence, that regulates into one vast harmony all

Or where, his two bright torches blending,

Love illumines manhood's maze ; the events of time, however calamitous some of them

Or where, o'er cradled infants bending,

Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze, * This Ode was composed on the 24th, 25th, and 26th days of December, 1796 : and was first published on the last day of

Hither, in perplexed dance, that year.

Yo Woes! ye young-eyed Joys! advance!

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By Time's wild harp, and by the hand

" Thou in stormy blackness throning
Whose indefatigable sweep

Love and uncreated Light,
Raises its fateful strings from sleep,

By the Earth's unsolaced groaning,
I. bid you haste, a mix'd tumultuous band!

Seize thy terrors, Arm of might!
From every private bower,

By Peace with proffer'd insult sacred,
And each domestic hearth,

Masked Hate and envying Scorn!
Haste for one solemn hour ;

By Years of Havoc yet unborn!
And with a loud and yet a louder voice, And Hunger’s bosom to the frost-winds bared !
D'er Nature struggling in portentous birth

But chief by Afric's wrongs,
Weep and rejoice! .

Strange, horrible, and foul !
Still echoes the dread Name that o'er the earth

By what deep guilt belongs
Let slip the storm, and woke the bfood of Hell : To the deaf Synod; · full of gifts and lies!'

And now advance in saintly Jubilee By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl!
Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell,

Avenger,' rise !
They too obey thy name, Divinest Liberty ! For ever shall the thankless Island scowl,

Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow !

Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven, O speak aloud !

And on the darkling foe
I mark'd Ambition in his war-array!

Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud !
I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous' cry- O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow!
“Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay! The past to thee, to thee the future cries !
Groans not her chariot on its onward way ?”

Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below!
Fly, mailed Monarch, fly!

Rise, God of Nature ! rise."
Stunn'd by Death's twice mortal mace,

No more on Murder's lurid face
The insatiate hag shall gloat with drunken eye!

Manes of the unnumber'd slain!
Ye that gasp'd on Warsaw's plain!

The voice had ceased, the vision fled;
Ye that erst at Ismail's tower,

Yet still I gaspid and reel'd with dread. When human ruin choked the streams,

And ever, when the dream of night Fell in conquest's glutted hour,

Renews the phantom to my sight, 'Mid women's shrieks and infants' screams !

Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs ;
Spirits of the uncoffin'd slain,

My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start;
Sudden blasts of triumph swelling,

My brain with horrid tumult swims;
Oft, at night, in misty train,

Wild is the tempest of my heart ;
Rush around her narrow dwelling !

And my thick and struggling breath
The exterminating fiend is fled-

Imitates the toil of Death !
(Foul her life, and dark her doom)

No stronger agony confounds
Mighty armies of the dead

The Soldier on the war-field spread,
Dance like death-fires round her tomb!

When all foredone with toil and wounds,
Then with prophetic song relate,

Death-like, he dozes among heaps of dead!
Each some tyrant-murderer's fate!

(The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,

And the night-wind clamors hoarse!

See! the starting wretch's head

Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse !)
Departing Year! 't was on no earthly shore

My soul beheld thy vision! Where alone,
Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne,

Aye Memory sits : thy robe inscribed with gore, Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile,
With many. an unimaginable groan,

O Albion! O my mother Isle !
Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued,

Thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers,
Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude,

Glitter green with sunny showers;
Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with

Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells
glories shone.

Echo to the bleat of flocks
Then, his eye wild ardors glancing,

(Those grassy hills, those glittering dells
From the choired Gods advancing,

Proudly ramparted with rocks);
The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet, And Ocean, 'mid his uproar wild
And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat.

Speaks safety to his ISLAND-CHILD!

Hence, for many a fearless age

Has social Quiet loved thy shore !
Throughout the blissful throng,

Nor ever proud Invader's rage
Hush'd were harp and song :

Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore.
Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven

(The mystic Words of Heaven),
Permissive signal make :

The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and Abandon'd of Heaven! mad Avarice thy guide,

At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride




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'Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast The Monarchs march'd in evil day, stood,

And Britain joined the dire array ; And join'd the wild yelling of Famine and Blood ! Though dear her shores and circling ocean, The nations curse thee! They with eager wondering Though many friendships, many youthful loves

Shall hear Destruction, like a Vulture, scream! Hlad swoln the patriot emotion, Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves; Of central fires through nether seas upthundering Yet still my voice, unalter’d, sang defeat Soothes her fierce solitude ; yet, as she lies

To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,

And shame too long delay'd and vain retreat! If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,

For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise,

I dimm’d thy light or damp'd thy holy flame; The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, But bless'd 'the paans of deliver'd France, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.



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Away, my soul, away!

“ And what," I said, “ though Blasphemy's loud scream In vain, in vain, the Birds of warning sing- With that sweet music of deliverance strove! And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey

Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind! A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream! Away, my soul, away!

Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, I, unpartaking of the evil thing,

The Sun was rising, though he hid his light!
With daily prayer and daily toil

And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and
Soliciting for food my scanty soil,

trembled, Have wail'd my country with a loud lament. The dissonance ceased, and all seem'd calm and Now I recentre my immortal mind

bright; In the deep sabbath of meek self-content; When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim

Conceal'd with clustering wreaths of glory ; God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.

When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's tramp;

While timid looks of fury glancing,
Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,

Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;

Then I reproach'd my fears that would not fee; “ And soon," I said, “shall Wisdom teach her lore In the low huts of them that toil and groan!

And, conquering by her happiness alone,

Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,

Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth Whose pathless march no mortal may control!

their own." Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws!

IV. Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds' singing, Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams !

Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent

Have made a solemn music of the wind ! I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams! Where, like a man beloved of God,

Heroes, that for your peaceful country perishd; Through glooms, which never woodman trod, And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows How oft, pursuing fancies holy,

With bleeding wounds; forgive me that I cherish'd My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes! Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,

To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt, -
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound! Where Peace her jealous home had built ;
Oye lond Waves! and Oye Forests high!

A patriot race to disinherit
And Oye Clouds that far above me soar'd! Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!

And with inexpiable spirit
Yea, every thing that is and will be free! To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer-
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er

O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, With what deep worship I have still ador'd And patriot only in pernicious toils ! The spirit of divinest Liberty.

Are these thy boasts, Champion of human-kind ?

To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,

Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; When France in wrath her giant-limbs uprear'd,

To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils And with that oath, which smote air, earth and sea,

From Freemen torn; to tempt and to betray? Stamp'd her strong foot and said she would be free, Bear witness for me, how I hoped and seard !

V. With what a joy my lofty gratulation

The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Unaw'd I sang, amid a slavish band :

Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,

They burst their manacles and wear the name Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,

Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain !

ye be,


O Liberty! with profitless endeavor

And all the crash of onset; fear and rage, Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;

And undetermined conflict-even now, But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever Even now, perchance, and in his native isle ; Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power. Carnage and groans beneath this blessed Sun! Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee

We have offended, Oh! my countrymen! (Not prayer nor boastful name delays thee), We have offended very grievously,

Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, And been most tyrannous. From east to west And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves, A groan of accusation pierces Heaven! Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,

The wretched plead against us; multitudes The guide of homeless winds, and playmates of the Countless and vehement, the Sons of God, waves!

Our Brethren! Like a cloud that travels on, And there I felt thee on that sea-cliff's verge, Steam'd up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,

Whose pines, scarce travell’d by the breeze above, Even so, my countrymen! have we gone forth Had made one murmur with the distant surge! And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs, Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, With slow perdition murders the whole man, Possessing all things with intensest love, His body and his soul! Meanwhile, at home, O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.

All individual dignity and power

Ingulf'd in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
February, 1797.

Associations and Societies,
A vain, speech-mouthing, speech-reporting Guild,
One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery,
We have drunk up, demure as at a grace,

Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth ;

Contemptuous of all honorable rule,

Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life WRITTEN IN APRIL, 1798, DURING THE ALARM OF For gold, as at a market! The sweet words

of Christian promise, words that even yet

Might stem destruction were they wisely preachd, A GREEN and silent spot, amid the hills,

Are mutler'd o'er by men, whose tones proclaim A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place

How flat and wearisome they feel their trade: No sinking sky-lark ever poised himself.

Rank scoilers some, but most too indolent The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,

To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth. Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,

Oh! blasphemous! the book of life is made All golden with the never-bloomless furze,

superstitious instrument, on which Which now blooms most profusely; but the dell,

We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break; Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate

For all must swear-all and in every place, As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,

College and wharf, council and justice-court; When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,

All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed, The level Sunshine glimmers with green light.

Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest, Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook!

The rich, the poor, the old man and the young ; Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefly he,

All, all make up one scheme of perjury, The humble man, who, in his youthful years,

That faith doth reel ; the very name of God Knew just so much of folly, as had made

Sounds like a juggler's charm; and, bold with joy, His early manhood more securely wise!

Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place, Here he might lie on fern or wither'd heath,

(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism, While from the singing-lark (that singe unseen

Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),

Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close, And from the Sun, and from the breezy Air,

And hooting at the glorious Sun in Heaven,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame;

Cries out, “ Where is it?”
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found

Thankless too for peace Religious meanings in the forins of nature ! (Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas), And so, his senses gradually wrapt

Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
In a half-sleep, he dreams of better worlds, To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war!
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing-lark! Alas! for ages ignorant of all
That singest like an angel in the clouds !

Its ghastlier workings (famine or blue plague,
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows),

We, this whole people, have been clamorous
My God! it is a melancholy thing

For war and bloodshed ; animating sports,
For such a man, who would full fain preserve The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel Spectators and not combatants ? No guess
For all his human brethren-O my God!

Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think No speculation or contingency,
What uproar and what strife may now be stirring However dim and vague, too vague and dim
This way or that way o'er these silent hills- To yield a justifying cause ; and forth
Invasion, and the thunder and the shout,

(Stuff”d out with big preamble, holy names,

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