TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE.

Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!
'Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough
'Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillow'd 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.

COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY NEAR DOVER, ON TIIE DAY OF
LANDING.

Here, on our native soil, we breathe once more.
The cock that erows, the smoke that curls, that sound
Of bells; — those boys who in yon meadow-ground
In white-sleeved shirts are playing; and the roar
Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore; —
All, all are English. Oft have I look'd round
With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found
Myself so satisfied in heart before.
Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
Thought for another moment. Thou art free,
My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride
For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass
Of England once again, and hear and see,
With such a dear companion at my side.

SEPTEMBER, 1802. NEAR DOVER.

Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood;

And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,

The coast of France, — the coast of France how near!

Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.8

4 This heroic Negro chief was the most redoubted champion for the freedom Which the Constituent Assembly had given to the slaves of Saint Domingo. In 1802, Napoleon sent over a large army, to regain possession of the island, and bring it back to its old condition. After a long resistance, Toussaint was at last treacherously ensnared and captured, and sent to France. For some time it was not known what became of him; but he is now said to have been confined in the castle of Jonx, in the Jura, where he died soon after, whether by natural or violent means, is unknown.

5 I quote again from Miss Wordsworth's Diary: " On the 29th August left Calais at twelve in the morning for Dover; bathed, and sat on the Dover cliffs, and looked upon France: we could Bee the shores almost as plain as if it were but an Englisi lake."

I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,
A span of waters; yet what power is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity;
Yet in themselves are nothing! One deeree
Spake laws to 'them, and said that by the soul
Only, the Nations shall be great and free.

THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND

Two Voices are there; one is of the sea,

One of the mountains; each a mighty Voice:

In both from ago to age thou didst rejoice,

They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven:

Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,

Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft:

Then cleave, O, cleave to that which still is left;

For, high-soul'd Maid, what sorrow would it be

That Mountain floods should thunder as before,

And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,

And neither awful Voice be heard by thee! •

WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802.

O Friend ! I know not which way I must look

For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,

To think that now our life is only drest

For show; mean handy-work of eraftsman, cook,

Or groom! We must run glittering like a brook

In th' open sunshine, or we are unblest:

The wealthiest man among us is the best:

No grandeur now in nature or in book

Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,

This is idolatry; and these we adore:

Plain living and high thinking are no more:

fl This magnificent sonnet was a faithful echo of the grief aml indication felt all over Europe at the event in question. In 1802, Napoleon invaded Switzerland with such forces as it was hopeless to resist: the old Swiss Confederacy of Republics was soon broken up, and all erushed into such shape as the invader pleased. All '" glaring defiance of the most solemn and stringent treaties. See Cole'idgc'ti Odi, ''ranee in a subsequent part of this volume.

The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone ; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.1

London, 1802.

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, th' heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ;
O, raise us up, return to us again!
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

Great men have been among us; hands that penn'd

And tongues that utter'd wisdom, — better none:

The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,

Young Vane, and others who call'd Milton friend.

These moralists could act and comprehend:

They knew how genuine glory was put on;

Tanght ns how rightfully a nation shone

In splendour; what strength was, that would not bend

But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange,

Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.

Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change 1

No single volume paramount, no code,

No master spirit, no determined road;

But equally a want of books and men!

It is not to be thought of that the Flood

Of British freedom, which, to th' open sea

Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity

Hath flow'd, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood," —

Boused though it be full often to a mood

1 This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when I could uot but be struck, as here deseribed, with the vanity and parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted with the quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the revolution had produced in France. Thls must be borne in mind, or else the reader may think that in this and the succeeding sonnets I have exaggerated the mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed (reaith. — Author's Notes, 1843.

Which spurns the check of salutary bands, —
That this most famous stream in bogs and sands
Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of th' invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held. —In every tiling we are sprung
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed
I had, my Country! — am I to be blamed ?
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,
Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find
In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;
And I by my affection was beguiled:
What wonder if a Poet now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,
Felt for thee as a lover or a child!

October, 1803.

One might believe that natural miseries
Had blasted France, and made of it a land
Unfit for men; and that in one great band
Her sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease.
But 'tis a chosen soil, where Sun and breeze
Shed gentle favours : rural works arc there,
And ordinary business without care;
Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please!
How piteous then that there should be such dearth
Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite
To work against themselves such fell despite;
Should come in frenzy and in drunken mirth,
Impatient to put out the only light
Of Liberty that yet remains on Earth.8

There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear
Than his who breathes, by roof and floor and wall

8 In the Spring and Summer of 1803, Xapoleon mnde vast preparation?, both in ^nps and ships, for the invasion of England; and the French people \\ere\vilil joy at the prospect of erushing their old rival.

Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall :
'Tis his who walks about in th' open air,
One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear
Their fetters in their souls. For who could be,
Who, even the best, in such condition, free
Prom self-reproach, reproach that he must share
With Human-nature ? Never be it ours
To see the Sun how brightly it will shine,
And know that noble feelings, manly powers,
Instead of gathering strength, must droop and pine;
And Earth with all her pleasant fruits and flowers
Fade, and participate in man's decline.

October, 1803.

These times strike money'd worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on th' affray,—
Men unto whom sufficient for the day
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy children of the God of Heaven,—
Are cheerful as the rising Sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath;
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital, — and that riches arc akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death ?

England ! the time is come when thou shouldst weau

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:

O, grief that Earth's best hopes rest all with Thee!

October, 1803.

When, looking on the present face of things,
I see one Man, of men the meanest too,