And the winds whose wings rain balm On the uplifted soul, and leaves Under which the bright sea heaves; While each breathless interval In their whisperings musical The inspired soul supplies With its own deep melodies, And the love which heals all strife, Circling, like the breath of life, All things in that sweet abode With its own mild brotherhood.
They, not it, would change; and soon Every sprite beneath the moon Would repent its envy vain,
And the earth grow young again.
WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES.
I. THE Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright; Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon's transparent might; The breath of the moist earth is light Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight, The winds', the birds', the ocean floods', The city's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.
2. I see the deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple sea-weeds strown; I see the waves upon the shore,
Like light dissolved, in star-showers thrown. I sit upon the sands alone.
The lightning of the noontide ocean
Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion,- How sweet, did any heart now share in
3. Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around; Nor that content, surpassing wealth, The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned; Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;— To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
4. Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear,— Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
5. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan. They might lament—for I am one Whom men love not, and yet regret ; Unlike this day, which, when the sun
Shall on its stainless glory set,
Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.
1. COME, be happy,-sit near me, Shadow-vested Misery: Coy, unwilling, silent bride, Mourning in thy robe of pride, Desolation deified!
2. Come, be happy,-sit near me : Sad as I may seem to thee, I am happier far than thou, Lady whose imperial brow Is endiademed with woe.
3. Misery! we have known each other, Like a sister and a brother Living in the same lone home, Many years we must live some Hours or ages yet to come.
4. 'Tis an evil lot, and yet Let us make the best of it;
If love can live when pleasure dies, We two will love, till in our eyes This heart's hell seem paradise.
5. Come, be happy,-lie thee down On the fresh grass newly mown, Where the grasshopper doth sing Merrily-one joyous thing In a world of sorrowing.
6. There our tent shall be the willow, And mine arm shall be thy pillow: Sounds and odours, sorrowful
Because they once were sweet, shall lull Us to slumber deep and dull.
7. Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter With a love thou dar'st not utter.
Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping- Is thine icy bosom leaping,
While my burning heart lies sleeping?
8. Kiss me- -oh! thy lips are cold!
Round my neck thine arms enfold- They are soft, but chill and dead; And thy tears upon my head Burn like points of frozen lead.
9. Hasten to the bridal bed- Underneath the grave 'tis spread : In darkness may our love be hid, Oblivion be our coverlid— We may rest, and none forbid.
10. Clasp me, till our hearts be grown Like two lovers into one;
Till this dreadful transport may Like a vapour fade away
In the sleep that lasts alway.
II. We may dream in that long sleep That we are not those who weep; Even as Pleasure dreams of thee, Life-deserting Misery,
Thou mayst dream of her with me.
12. Let us laugh and make our mirth At the shadows of the earth; As dogs bay the moonlight clouds Which, like spectres wrapped in shrouds, Pass o'er night in multitudes.
13. All the wide world, beside us, Show like multitudinous
Puppets passing from a scene ; What but mockery can they mean
Where I am-where thou hast been?
THE MASQUE OF ANARCHY.
1. As I lay asleep in Italy,
There came a voice from over the sea, And with great power it forth led me To walk in the visions of Poesy.
2. I met Murder on the way- He had a mask like Castlereagh. Very smooth he looked, yet grim; Seven bloodhounds followed him.
3. All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight,
For one by one, and two by two, He tossed them human hearts to chew, Which from his wide cloak he drew.
4. Next came Fraud, and he had on, Like Lord Eldon, an ermine gown. His big tears, for he wept well, Turned to millstones as they fell;
5. And the little children who Round his feet played to and fro, Thinking every tear a gem,
Had their brains knocked out by them.
6. Clothed with the bible, as with light And the shadows of the night, Like Sidmouth next, Hypocrisy On a crocodile came by.
7. And many more Destructions played In this ghastly masquerade,—
All disguised, even to the eyes, Like bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies. 8. Last came Anarchy; he rode
On a white horse splashed with blood; He was pale even to the lips, Like Death in the Apocalypse.
9. And he wore a kingly crown; In his hand a sceptre shone; On his brow this mark I saw- "I am God, and King, and Law!"
10. With a pace stately and fast Over English land he passed, Trampling to a mire of blood The adoring multitude.
II. And a mighty troop around
With their trampling shook the ground, Waving each a bloody sword
For the service of their lord.
12. And with glorious triumph they
Rode through England, proud and gay. Drunk as with intoxication
Of the wine of desolation.
13. O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea, Passed the pageant swift and free, Tearing up and trampling down, Till they came to London town.
14. And each dweller, panic-stricken, Felt his heart with terror sicken, Hearing the tempestuous cry Of the triumph of Anarchy.
15. For with pomp to meet him came, Clothed in arms like blood and flame, The hired murderers who did sing, "Thou art God, and Law, and King!
16. "We have waited, weak and lone, For thy coming, Mighty One!
Our purses are empty, our swords are cold; Give us glory, and blood, and gold.'
17. Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd, To the earth their pale brows bowed,- Like a bad prayer not over loud, Whispering "Thou art Law and God!" 18. Then all cried with one accord,
"Thou art King, and Law, and Lord;
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