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 a doubt almost within me springs
Of Providence, such emptiness at length
Seems at the heart of all things. But, great God I
I measure back the steps which I have trod;
And tremble, seeing whence proceeds the strength
Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime
I tremble at the sorrow of the time.

.NOVEMBER, 1806.

Another year! —another deadly blow!
Another mighty Empire overthrown!
And We are left, or shall be left, alone;
The last that dare 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 unpropp'd, or be laid low.
O dastard, whom such foretaste doth not cheer!
We shall exult, if they who rule the land
Be men who hold its many blessings dear,
Wise, upright, valiant; not a servile band,
Who are to judge of danger which they fear,
And honour which they do not understand.*

COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE LAKE. 1807.

Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars

Through the grey West; and lo! these waters, steel'd

By brcezeless air to smoothest polish, yield

A vivid repetition of the stars;

Jove, Venus, and the ruddy erest of Mars

Amid his fellows beanteously revcal'd

At happy distance from earth's groaning field,

Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.

Is it a mirror?— or the nether Sphere

Opening to view th' abyss in which she feeds

Her own calm fires? — But, list! a voice is near;

Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,

9 I am not certain whether this superb sonnet refers to Austria or to Prussli; perh.ips to both. On tin; M of December, 1HOS, was fought the battle of Austerlitz, by which the Austrian Empire was prostrated; and on the 14th of October, 180R, lti« 'tie of Jena, which laid the Prussian Monarchy an the dust.

" Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!"

1808.

Not 'mid the World's vain objects that enslave

The free-born Soul,— that World whose vannted 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, whence I may,

Trinmph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.1

Iioffer.

Of mortal parents is the Hero born

By whom th' undannted Tyrolese are led ?

Or is it Toll's great Spirit, from the dead

Eeturn'd to animate an age forlorn ?

lie comes like Phuebus through the gates of morn

When dreary darkness is discomfited;

Yet mark his modest state! upon his head,

That simple erest, a heron's plume, is worn.

O Liberty! they stagger at the shock

From van to rear, and with one mind would flee,

But half their host is buried: — rock on rock

Descends:—beneath this godlike Warrior, see!

Hills, torrents, woods, embodied to bemock

The Tyrant, and confound his eruelty.2

1 It would not be easy to conceive with wnat a depth of feeling I entered Into the Itruggle carried on by Spaniards I'or their deliverance from the usurped power of the French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Urasmere vale, where wo were then residing, to the top of H-iise-gap, as it is called, so late as two o'clock in tlie m.irning, to meet the carrier bringing the newspaper from Keswick.— Author'* KuIei, 1843.

2 TheTjrolese, a simple, pious, patriotic people, were immovably steadfast In

their attachment to Anst in:? the pastoral natives, French and Bavarians; i had to send army after a Into a dctile: the woods \

Andrew I (offer was a peasant hero, underwhose leadicn, women, and children, gathered, to resist the invading id so stout and skilful was their resistance, that Napoleon my against them. On one occasion they drew the enemy ere silent; not a musket or srmod man to he scon on the

cliffs; when suddenly H erackling sound waa heard; and immediately huge masses of rock and heaps of rubbish on the heights above, which had been propped by (Cigantic flrs, came thundering down, and erushed whole eiruadrons and cum)>aniei >t once.

Advance, come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,
Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed;
Sweet Nymph, O, rightly of the mountains named!8
Thro' the long chain of Alps from mound to mouud,
And o'er th' eternal snows, like Echo, bound;
Like Echo, when the hunter train at dawn
Have roused her from her sleep; and forest-lawn,
Cliffs, woods and caves her viewless steps resound,
And babble of her pastime!— On, dread Power!
With such invisible motion speed thy flight,
Thro' hanging clonds, from eraggy height to height,
Thro' the green vales and thro' the herdsman's bower,
That all the Alps may gladden in thy might,
Here, there, and in all places at one hour.

FEELINGS OF THE TYROLESE.

The Land we from our fathers had in trust,
And to our children will transmit, or die:
This is our maxim, this our piety;
And God and Nature say that it is just.
That which we would perform in arms, we must !
We read the dictate in the infant's eye;
In the wife's smile; and in the placid sky;
And, at our feet, amid the silent dust
Of them that were before us. — Sing alond
Old songs, the precious music of the heart!
Give, herds and flocks, your voices to the wind!
While we go forth, a self-devoted erowd,
With weapons grasp'd in fearless hands, to assert
Our virtue, and to vindicate mankind.

Alas! what boots the long laborious quest

Of moral prndence, sought through good and ill;

Or pains abstruse, to elevate the will,

And lead us on to that transcendent rest

Where every passion shall the sway attest

Of Reason, seated on her sovereign hill;

What is it bnt a vain and curious skill,

If sapient Germany must lie deprest

Beneath the brntal sword ? Her haughty School?

Shall blush; and may not we with sorrow say,

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules,

Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought

8 So in Milton's L'A llcgro, ISO:

" And in thy right hand lend with thee
The mountain nytnpli, sweet Liberty."

More for mankind at this unhappy day
Than all the pride of intellect and thought?

And is it among rude untutor'd Dales,
There, and there only, that the heart is true ?
And, rising to repel or to subdue,
Is it by rocks and woods that man prevails ?
Ah no! though Nature's dread proteetion fails,
There is a bulwark in the soul. This knew
Iberian Burghers when the sword they drew
In Zaragoza, naked to the gales
Of fiercely-breathing war. The truth was felt
By Palafox, and many a brave compeer,
Like him of noble birth and noble mind;
By ladies, meek-eyed women without fear;
And wanderers of the street, to whom is dealt
The bread which without industry they find.

O'er the wide Earth, on mountain and on plain,

Dwells in th' affections and the soul of man

A Godhead, like the universal Pan ;

But more exalted, with a brighter train:

And shall his bounty be dispensed in vain,

Shower'd equally on city and on field,

And neither hope nor steadfast promise yield

In these usurping times of fear and pain ?

Such doom awaits us. Nay, forbid it Heaven!

We know the arduous strife, th' eternal laws

To which the triumph of all good is given, —

High saerifice, and labour without panse,

Even to the death: — else wherefore should the eye

Of man converse with immortality ?

ON THE FINAL SUBMISSION OF THE TYROLESE.

It was a moral end for which they fough t;

Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame,

Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim,

A resolution, or enlivening thought?

Nor hath that moral good been vainly sought;

For in their magnanimity and fame

Powers have they left, an impulse, and a claim

Which neither can be overturn'd nor bought.

Sleep, Warriors, sleep! among your hills repose!

We know that ye, beneath the stern control

Of awful prudence, keep th' unvanquish'd soul:

And when, impatient of her guilt and woes,
Europe breaks forth; then, Shepherds! shall ye rise
For perfect trinmph o'er your Enemies.

Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eye
We can approach, thy sorrow to behold,
Yet is the heart not pitiless nor cold ;
Such spectacle demands not tear or sigh.
These desolate remaius are trophies high
Of more than martial courage in the breast
Of peaceful civic virtue: they attest
Thy matchless worth to all posterity.
Blood flow'd before thy sight without remorse;
Disease consumed .thy vitals; War upheaved
The ground beneath thee with volcanic force:
Dread trials! yet encounter'd and sustain'd
Till not a wreck of help or hope remain'd,
And law was from necessity received.4

Say, what is Honour? — 'Tis the finest sense
Of justice which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offence
Suffer'd or done. When lawless violence
Invades a Realm, so press'd that in the scale
Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail,
Honour is hopeful elevation, — whence
Glory, and trinmph. Yet with politic skill
Endanger'd States may yield to terms unjust;
Stoop their proud heads, but not unto the dust,
A Foe's most favourite purpose to fulfil:
Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust
Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.

The martial courage of a day is vain,
An empty noise of death the battle's roar,