They thus would rise, must low and lower sink Till, by repentance stung, they fear to think; While all lie prostrate, save the tyrant few Bent in quick turns each other to undo, And mix the poison they themselves must drink.
Mistrust thyself, vain Country! cease to cry, "Knowledge will save me from the threatened
For, if than other rash ones more thou know, Yet on presumptuous wing as far would fly Above thy knowledge as they dared to go, Thou wilt provoke a heavier penalty.
UPON THE LATE GENERAL FAST.
RELUCTANT call it was; the rite delayed; And in the Senate some there were who doffed The last of their humanity, and scoffed At providential judgments, undismayed By their own daring. But the People prayed As with one voice; their flinty heart grew soft With penitential sorrow, and aloft
Their spirit mounted, crying, "God us aid! On that with aspirations more intense, Castised by self-abasement more profound, This People, once so happy, so renowned For liberty, would seek from God defence Against far heavier ill, the pestilence Of revolution, impiously unbound!
Then whispered she, "The Bill is carrying out!"
They heard, and, starting up, the Brood of Night
Clapped hands, and shook with glee their
Joined in the transport, echoed back their shout, All Powers and Places that abhor the light -, hugging his Ballot-box!
BLEST Statesman He, whose Mind's unselfish will
Leaves him at ease among grand thoughts: whose eye
Sees that, apart from magnanimity, Wisdom exists not; nor the humbler skill Of Prudence, disentangling good and ill With patient care. What tho' assaults run high,
They daunt not him who holds his ministry, Resolute, at all hazards, to fulfil
Its duties; -prompt to move, but firm to wait, - Knowing, things rashly sought are rarely found: That, for the functions of an ancient State- Strong by her charters, free because imbound, Servant of Providence, not slave of Fate- Perilous is sweeping change, all chance un
IN ALLUSION TO VARIOUS RECENT HISTORIES AND NOTICES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
PORTENTOUS change when History can appear As the cool Advocate of foul device; Reckless audacity extol, and jeer
At consciences perplexed with scruples nice! They who bewail not must abhor the sneer Born of Conceit, Power's blind Idolater; Or haply sprung from vaunting Cowardice Betrayed by mockery of holv fear
Hath it not long been said the wrath of Man Works not the righteousness of God? Oh bend, Laws that lay under Heaven's perpetual ban Bend, ve Perverse! to judgments from on High, The sacred limits of humanity. All principles of action that transcend
WHO ponders National events shall find An awful balancing of loss and gain,
Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined, And proud deliverance issuing out of pain And direful throes; as if the All-ruling Mind, With whose perfection it consists to ordain Volcanic burst, earthquake, and hurricane, Dealt in like sort with feeble human kind By laws immutable. But woe for him Who thus deceived shall lend an eager hand To social havoc. Is not Conscience ours, And Truth, whose eye guilt only can make dim ;
And Will, whose office, by divine command, Is to control and check disordered Powers!
LONG-FAVOURED England! be not thou misled By monstrous theories of alien growth, Lest alien frenzy seize thee, waxing wroth, Self-smitten till thy garments reek dyed red With thy own blood, which tears in torrents shed
Fail to wash out, tears flowing ere thy troth Be plighted, not to ease but sullen sloth, Or wan despair-the ghost of false hope fled Into a shameful grave. Among thy youth, My Country! if such warning be held dear, Then shall a Veteran's heart be thrilled with joy,
One who would gather from eternal truth, For time and season, rules that work to cheer- Not scourge, to save the People-not destroy.
MEN of the Western World! in Fate's dark book
Whence these opprobrious leaves of dire portent?
Think ye your British Ancestors forsook Their native Land, for outrage provident; From unsubmissive necks the bridle shook To give, in their Descendants, freer vent And wider range to passions turbulent, To mutual tyranny, a deadlier look? Nay, said a voice, soft as the south wind's breath,
Dive through the stormy surface of the flood To the great current flowing underneath; Explore the countless springs of silent good; So shall the truth be better understood, And thy grieved Spirit brighten strong in faith.
TO THE PENNSYLVANIANS.
DAYS undefiled by luxury or sloth, Firm self-denial, manners grave and staid, Rights equal, laws with cheerfulness obeyed, Words that require no sanction from an oath, And simple honesty a common growth- This high repute, with bounteous Nature's aid, Won confidence, now ruthlessly betrayed At will, your power the measure of your troth!-
All who revere the memory of Penn
AT BOLOGNA, IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE LATE INSURRECTIONS, 1837.
Aн why deceive ourselves! by no mere fit Of sudden passion roused shall men attain True freedom where for ages they have lain Bound in a dark abominable pit,
With life's best sinews more and more unknit. Here, there, a banded few who loathe the Chain May rise to break it: effort worse than vain For thee, O great Italian nation, split Into those jarring fractions.-Let thy scope Be one fixed mind for all; thy rights approve To thy own conscience gradually renewed; Then trust thy cause to the arm of Fortitude, Learn to make Time the father of wise Hope; The light of Knowledge, and the warmth of Love.
As leaves are to the tree whereon they grow And wither, every human generation Is to the Being of a mighty nation, Locked in our world's embrace through weal and wɔe;
Thought that should teach the zealot to forego Rash schemes, to abjure all selfish agitation, And seek through noiseless pains and modera- tion
The unblemished good they only can bestow. Alas! with most who weigh futurity Against time present, passion holds the scales: Hence equal ignorance of both prevails, And nations sink; or, struggling to be free, Are doomed to flounder on, like wounded whales
Tossed on the bosom of a stormy sea.
YOUNG ENGLAND-what is then become of Old, Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead, Dead to the very name? Presumption fed On empty air! That name will keep its hold
Grieve for the land on whose wild woods his In the true filial bosom's inmost fold
Was fondly grafted with a virtuous aim, Renounced, abandoned by degenerate Men For state-dishonour black as ever came To upper air from Mammon's loathsome den.
For ever. The Spirit of Alfred at the head Of all who for her rights watch'd, toil'd and bled Knows that this prophecy is not too bold. What-how! shall she submit in will and deed To Beardless Boys-an imitative race,
A single human life have wrongly taken, Pass sentence on themselves, confess the fact, And, to atone for it, with soul unshaken Kneel at the feet of Justice, and, for faith Broken with all mankind, solicit death.
Is Death, when evil against good has fought With such fell mastery that a man may dare By deeds the blackest purpose to lay bare-- Is Death, for one to that condition brought, For him, or any one, the thing that ought To be most dreaded? Lawgivers, beware, Lest, capital pains remitting till ye spare The murderer, ye, by sanction to that thought Seemingly given, debase the general mind; Tempt the vague will tried standards to disown, Nor only palpable restraints unbind, But upon Honour's head disturb the crown, Whose absolute rule permits not to withstand In the weak love of life his least command.
NOT to the object specially designed, Howe'er momentous in itself it be, Good to promote or curb depravity, Is the wise Legislator's view confined. His Spirit, when most severe, is oft most kind; As all Authority in earth depends On Love and Fear, their several powers he blends,
Copying with awe the one Paternal mind. Uncaught by processes in show humane, He feels how far the act would derogate From even the humblest functions of the State; If she, self-shorn of Majesty, ordain That never more shall hang upon her breath The last alternative of Life or Death.
FIT retribution, by the moral code Determined, lies beyond the State's embrace, Yet, as she may, for each peculiar case
She plants well-measured terrors in the road Of wrongful acts. Downward it is and broad, And, the main fear once doomed to banishment, Far oftener then, bad ushering worse event, Blood would be spilt that in his dark abode Crime might lie better hid. And, should the change
Take from the horror due to a foul deed, Pursuit and evidence so far must fail,. And, guilt escaping, passion then might plead In angry spirits for her old free range, And the "wild justice of revenge" prevail.
OUR bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine Of an immortal spirit, is a gift
So sacred, so informed with light divine, That no tribunal, though most wise to sift Deed and intent, should turn the Being adrift Into that world where penitential tear May not avail, nor prayer have for God's ear A voice that world whose veil no hand can lift For earthly sight. "Eternity and Time," They urge, "have interwoven claims and rights Not to be jeopardised through foulest crime: The sentence rule by mercy's heaven-born lights."
Even so but measuring not by finite sense Infinite Power, perfect Intelligence.
SEE the Condemned alone within his cell And prostrate at some moment when remorse Stings to the quick, and, with resistless force, Assaults the pride she strove in vain to quell. Then mark him, him who could so long rebel, The crime confessed, a kneeling Penitent Before the Altar, where the Sacrament Softens his heart, till from his eyes outwell Tears of salvation. Welcome death! while Heaven
Does in this change exceedingly rejoice; While yet the solemn heed the State hath given Helps him to meet the last Tribunal's voice In faith, which fresh offences, were he cast On old temptations, might for ever blast.
YES, though He well may tremble at the sound Of his own voice, who from the judgment-seat Sends the pale Convict to his last retreat In death; though Listeners shudder all around, They know the dread requital's source pro- found;
Nor is, they feel, its wisdom obsolete- (Would that it were !) the sacrifice unmeet For Christian Faith. But hopeful signs abound The social rights of man breathe purer air: Religion deepens her preventive care; Strike not from Law's firm hand that awful rod,, Then, moved by needless fear of past abuse, But leave it thence to drop for lack of use: Oh, speed the blessed hour, Almighty God!
THE formal World relaxes her cold chain
For One who speaks in numbers; ampler scope His utterance finds; and, conscious of the Imagination works with bolder hope The cause of grateful reason to sustain ; And, serving Truth, the heart more strongly beats
Against all barriers which his labour meets In lofty place, or humble Life's domain. Enough;-before us lay a painful road, And guidance have I sought in duteous love From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath flowed
Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way Each takes in this high matter, all may move Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.
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