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THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION.1

I.

BROTHERS! between you and me
Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar:
Yet in spirit oft I see

On thy wild and winding shore
Freedom's bloodless banners wave,-
Feel the pulses of the brave
Unextinguished in the grave,-

See them drenched in sacred gore,-
Catch the warrior's gasping breath
Murmuring "Liberty or death!"

II.

Shout aloud! Let every slave,

Crouching at Corruption's throne,
Start into a man, and brave

Racks and chains without a groan;
And the castle's heartless glow,
And the hovel's vice and woe,

Fade like gaudy flowers that blow-
Weeds that peep, and then are gone;
Whilst, from misery's ashes risen,
Love shall burst the captive's prison.

1 This poem and the next were sent to Miss Hitchener from Dublin, in a letter from which Mr. Rossetti extracts as follows:-"Have you heard a new republic is set up in Mexico? I have just written the following short tribute to its success... These are merely sent as lineaments in the pic

ture of my mind on these two topics [the other topic being Ireland]. I find that I sometimes can write poetry when I feel, such as it is." As Mr. Rossetti dates this poem 14 February, 1812, I presume that is the date of the letter.

III.

Cotopaxi! bid the sound

Through thy sister mountains ring,
Till each valley smile around

At the blissful welcoming!
And O thou stern Ocean deep,
Thou whose foamy billows sweep
Shores where thousands wake to weep
Whilst they curse a villain king,
On the winds that fan thy breast
Bear thou news of Freedom's rest!

IV.

Ere the daystar dawn of love,

Where the flag of war unfurled
Floats with crimson stain above

The fabric of a ruined world-
Never but to vengeance driven.
When the patriot's spirit shriven
Seeks in death its native heaven!
There, to desolation hurled,
Widowed love may watch thy bier,
Balm thee with its dying tear.

TO IRELAND.1

BEAR witness, Erin! when thine injured isle
Sees summer on its verdant pastures smile,
Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweep
The billowy surface of thy circling deep.

1 Mr. Rossetti affixes the date " February, 1812," to this fragment.

Thou tree whose shadow o'er the Atlantic gave
Peace, wealth, and beauty, to its friendly wave,
its blossoms fade,
And blighted are the leaves that cast its shade;
Whilst the cold hand gathers its scanty fruit,
Whose chillness struck a canker to its root.

EYES.1

How eloquent are eyes!
Not the rapt poet's frenzied lay
When the soul's wildest feelings stray
Can speak so well as they.
How eloquent are eyes!
Not music's most impassioned note
On which love's warmest fervours float
Like them bids rapture rise,

Love, look thus again,

That your look may lighten a waste of years,
Darting the beam that conquers cares

Through the cold shower of tears.
Love, look thus again!

1 First given by Mr. Rossetti with the following note: "This poem is extracted by Mr. Garnett from a MS. book, and had never yet been publish

ed. He notes its date as not later than 1813 I have put 1812 conjecturally."

TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART.1

I.

SHALL we roam, my love,

To the twilight grove,

When the moon is rising bright;

Oh, I'll whisper there,

In the cool night-air,

What I dare not in broad day-light!

I'll tell thee a part

II.

Of the thoughts that start

To being when thou art nigh;

And thy beauty, more bright

Than the stars' soft light,

Shall seem as a weft from the sky.

III.

When the pale moonbeam

On tower and stream

Sheds a flood of silver sheen,

1 Medwin published this poem as Shelley's in The Shelley Papers; and Mrs. Shelley received it into her first edition of 1839; but in the second she withdrew it with the following remarks" It was suggested that the Poem 'To the Queen of my Heart,' was falsely attributed to Shelley. I certainly find no trace of it among his papers, and as those of his intimate friends whom I have consulted never heard of it, I omit it." I do not feel justified in excluding it, finding this negative evidence quite insufficient for so judicial an occasion. It is to

VOL. IV.

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How I love to gaze

As the cold ray strays

O'er thy face, my heart's throned queen!

IV.

Wilt thou roam with me

To the restless sea,

And linger upon the steep,

And list to the flow

Of the waves below

How they toss and roar and leap?

Those boiling waves

V.

And the storm that raves

At night o'er their foaming crest,

Resemble the strife

That, from earliest life,

The passions have waged in my breast.

VI.

Oh, come then and rove

To the sea or the grove

When the moon is rising bright,
And I'll whisper there

In the cool night-air

What I dare not in broad day-light.

1 In Mrs. Shelley's first edition of 1839 the word shining is here substituted for rising; but the change

must have been a mere accident, seeing she had nothing but Medwin's version to go by.

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