ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN
REPUBLIC.
ONCE did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the
Of that which once was great is passed away.
THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call
To that great King; shall hail the crowned
Youth
Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth,
By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall,
If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend?
And what to him and his shall be the end?
That thought is one which neither can appal
Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath
done
The thing which ought to be; is raised above
All consequences: work he hath begun
Of fortitude, and piety, and love,
Which all his glorious ancestors approve :
The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.
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SEPTEMBER 1, 1802. Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced those times, was the chasing of all Negroes from France by decree of the government: we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled. WE had a female Passenger who came From Calais with us, spotless in array,-A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay, Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame; Meck, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim She sate, from notice turning not away, But on all proffered intercourse did lay
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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.
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 decree
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 age 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
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 berest:
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left;
For, high-souled 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.
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold
O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look Which Milton held.- In every thing we are
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman,
cook,
Or groom!-We must run glittering like a brook
In the 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:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold
WHEN 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 un named
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!
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THERE is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall,
Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall :
Tis his who walks about in the 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
From 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.
THESE times strike monied worldlings with dis
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despain:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the 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 are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
ENGLAND! the time is come when thou should'st
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 would'st
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:
Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words,
Striking through English breasts the anarchy
Of Terror, bear us to the ground, and tie
Our hands behind our backs with felon cords?
Yields every thing to discipline of swords?
Is man as good as man, none low, none high?
Nor discipline nor valour can withstand
The shock, nor quell the inevitable rout,
When in some great extremity breaks out
A people, on their own beloved Land
Risen, like one man, to combat in the sight
Of a just God for liberty and right.
LINES ON THE EXPECTED INVASION.
1803.
COME ye-who, if (which Heaven avert!) the
Land
Were with herself at strife, would take your
stand,
Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side,
And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride-
Come ye-who, not less zealous, might display
Banners at enmity with regal sway,
And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day,
Think that a State would live in sounder health
If Kingship bowed its head to Common-
wealth-
Oh grief that Earth's best hopes rest all with Ye too-whom no discreditable fear
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 a doubt almost 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 whence proceeds the
strength
Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts
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
Her 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 be-
fore;-
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!
WHAT if our numbers barely could defy
The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes,
Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless
Uncertain what to choose and how to steer-
And ye-who might mistake for sober sense
And wise reserve the plea of indolence-
Come ye-whate'er your creed-O waken all,
Whate'er your temper, at your Country's call;
Resolving (this a free-born Nation can)
To have one Soul, and perish to a man,
Or save this honoured Land from every Lord
But British reason and the British sword.
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 even the prospect of our brethren slain,
Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:-
In glory will they sleep and endless sanctity.
That we must stand unpropped, 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.
WHO rises on the banks of Seine,
And binds her temples with the civic wreath?
What joy to read the promise of her mien !
How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings
beneath!
But they are ever playing,
And twinkling in the light,
And, if a breeze be straying,
That breeze she will invite;
And stands on tiptoe, conscious she is fair,
And calls a look of love into her face,
And spreads her arms, as if the general air
Alone could satisfy her wide embrace.
-Melt, Principalities, before her melt!
Her love ye hailed-her wrath have felt!
But She through many a change of form hath
gone,
And stands amidst you now an armèd creature,
Whose panoply is not a thing put on,
But the live scales of a portentous nature;
That, having forced its way from birth to birth,
Stalks round-abhorred by Heaven a terror to
the Earth!
I marked the breathings of her dragon crest; My Soul, a sorrowful interpreter, In many a midnight vision bowed Before the ominous aspect of her spear; Whether the mighty beam, in scorn upheld, Threatened her foes,-or, pompously at rest, Seemed to bisect her orbèd shield, As stretches a blue bar of solid cloud Across the setting sun and all the fiery west.
So did she daunt the Earth, and God defy! And, wheresoe'er she spread her sovereignty, Pollution tainted all that was most pure. -Have we not known-and live we not to
That Justice seemed to hear her final knell? Faith buried deeper in her own deep breast Her stores, and sighed to find them insecure! And Hope was maddened by the drops that fell From shades, her chosen place of short-lived
Shame followed shame, and woe supplanted
Is this the only change that time can show?
How long shall vengeance sleep? Ye patient
Heavens, how long?
- Infirm ejaculation! from the tongue
Of Nations wanting virtue to be strong
Up to the measure of accorded might,
And daring not to feel the majesty of right!
Weak Spirits are there--who would ask, Upon the pressure of a painful thing, The lion's sinews, or the eagle's wing;
Or let their wishes loose, in forest-glade,
Among the lurking powers
Of herbs and lowly flowers,
Or seek, from saints above, miraculous aid-
That Man may be accomplished for a task
Which his own nature hath enjoined ;-and
why?
If, when that interference hath relieved him, He must sink down to languish
In worse than former helplessness-and lie Till the caves roar,-and, imbecility Again engendering anguish,
The same weak wish returns that had before deceived him.
But Thou, supreme Disposer! may'st not speed
The course of things, and change the creed
Which hath been held aloft before men's sight
Since the first framing of societies,
Whether, as bards have told in ancient song,
Built up by soft seducing harmonies;
Or prest together by the appetite,
And by the power, of wrong.
ON A CELEBRATED EVENT IN ANCIENT
A ROMAN Master stands on Grecian ground,
And to the people at the Isthmian Games
Assembled, He, by a herald's voice, proclaims
THE LIBERTY OF GREECE:-the words re-
bound
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!
Yet were the thoughtful grieved; and still that
voice
Haunts, with sad echoes, 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.
UPON THE SAME EVENT.
WHEN, far and wide, swift as the beams of
The tidings passed of servitude repealed,
And of that joy which shook the Isthmian
Field,
The rough Ætolians smiled with bitter scorn.
""Tis known," cried they, "that he who would
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
III. 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 that enterprise 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,
Duty's intrepid liegeman, see, the palm
Is won, and by all Nations shall be worn!
The blood-stained Writing is for ever torn ;
And thou henceforth wilt have a good man's
calm,
A great man's happiness; thy zeal shall find
Repose at length, firm friend of human kind!
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COMPOSED BY THE SIDE OF GRASMERE LAKE. 1807.
CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;
Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
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 the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires? - But list! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the
reeds,
Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!"
Go back to antique ages, if thine eyes
The genuine mien and character would trace
Of the rash Spirit that still holds her place,
Prompting the world's audacious vanities!
Go back, and see the Tower of Babel rise;
The pyramid extend its monstrous base,
For some Aspirant of our short-lived race,
Anxious an aery name to immortalize.
There, too, ere wiles and politic dispute
Gave specious colouring to aim and act,
See the first mighty Hunter leave the brute---
To chase mankind, with men in armies packed
For his field-pastime high and absolute,
While, to dislodge his game, cities are sacked!
COMPOSED WHILE THE AUTHOR WAS ENGAGED IN WRITING A TRACT, OCCASIONED BY THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA.
Nor 'mid the World's vain objects that 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, whence I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.
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