Chapter 4

I griev'd for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! the vital blood Of that Man's mind what can it be? What food Fed his first hopes? What knowledge could He gain? 'Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

5. _CALAIS_. August 15th, 1802.

Festivals have I seen that were not names: This is young Buonaparte's natal day; And his is henceforth an established sway, Consul for life. With worship France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games. Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay! Calais is not: and I have bent my way To the Sea-coast, noting that each man frames His business as he likes. Another time That was, when I was here long years ago: The senselessness of joy was then sublime! Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

6. 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 reach'd its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is pass'd away.

7. _THE KING OF SWEDEN_.

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 chear him; for the illustrious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be: He stands _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.

8. _TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE_.

Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men! Whether the rural Milk-maid by her Cow Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den, O miserable chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a chearful brow: Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

9.

September 1st, 1802.

We had a fellow-Passenger who came From Calais with us, gaudy in array, A Negro Woman like a Lady gay, Yet silent as a woman fearing blame; Dejected, meek, yea pitiably tame, She sate, from notice turning not away, But on our proffer'd kindness still did lay A weight of languid speech, or at the same Was silent, motionless in eyes and face. She was a Negro Woman driv'n from France, Rejected like all others of that race, Not one of whom may now find footing there; This the poor Out-cast did to us declare, Nor murmur'd at the unfeeling Ordinance.

10. COMPOSED IN THE _VALLEY, near DOVER_, On the Day of landing.

Dear fellow Traveller! here we are once more. The Cock that crows, the Smoke that curls, that sound Of Bells, those Boys that in yon meadow-ground In white sleev'd shirts are playing by the score, And even this little River's gentle roar, All, all are English. Oft have I look'd round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in Bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.

11.

September, 1802.

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.

12. 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 striven; 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 bereft: Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left! For, high-soul'd 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!

13. WRITTEN IN LONDON, September, 1802.

O Friend! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our Life is only drest For shew; mean handywork 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, expence, 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.

14.

_LONDON_, 1802.

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea; Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In chearful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on itself did lay.

15.

Great Men have been among us; hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom, better none: The later Sydney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who call'd Milton Friend. These Moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone In splendor: what strength was, that would not bend But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single Volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of Books and Men!

16.

It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which to the open Sea Of the world's praise from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood," Road by which all might come and go that would, And bear out freights of worth to foreign lands; That this most famous Stream in Bogs and Sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our Halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held. In every thing we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.

17.

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 unnamed I had, my Country! am I to be blamed? But, when I think of Thee, and what Thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. But dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark of 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.

18.

October, 1803.

One might believe that natural miseries Had blasted France, and made of it a land Unfit for Men; and that in one great Band Her Sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease. But 'tis a chosen soil, where sun and breeze Shed gentle favors; rural works are there; And ordinary business without care; Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please! How piteous then that there should be such dearth Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite To work against themselves such fell despite: Should come in phrenzy and in drunken mirth, Impatient to put out the only light Of Liberty that yet remains on Earth!

19.

There is a bondage which is 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 which 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.

20.

October, 1803.

These times touch money'd Worldlings with dismay: Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair: While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day And minds not stinted or untill'd 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!

21.

England! the time is come when thou shouldst wean 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 wouldst step between. 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: Oh grief! that Earth's best hopes rest all with Thee!

22.

October, 1803.

When, looking on the present face of things, I see one Man, of Men the meanest too! Rais'd 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 almost a doubt 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, as I do, the strength Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime I tremble at the sorrow of the time.

23. _TO THE MEN OF KENT_.

October, 1803.

Vanguard of Liberty, ye Men of Kent, Ye Children of a Soil that doth advance It's 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; Confirm'd the charters that were yours before;-- 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!

24.

October, 1803.

Six thousand Veterans practis'd in War's game, Tried Men, at Killicranky were array'd Against an equal Host that wore the Plaid, Shepherds and Herdsmen.--Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry thundering down his mountain-road Was stopp'd, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies. 'Twas a day of shame For them whom precept and the pedantry Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave! Like conquest would the Men of England see; And her Foes find a like inglorious Grave.

25. _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.

26.

November, 1803.

Another year!--another deadly blow! Another mighty Empire overthrown! And we are left, or shall be left, alone; The last that dares 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 chear! We shall exult, if They who rule the land Be Men who hold its many blessings dear, Wise, upright, valiant; not a venal Band, Who are to judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand.

_NOTES to the FIRST VOLUME_

_NOTES_.

NOTE I.

PAGE I (9).--_To the Daisy_. This Poem, and two others to the same Flower, which the Reader will find in the second Volume, were written in the year 1802; which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of the expressions, they bear a striking resemblance to a Poem (lately published) of Mr. Montgomery, entitled, a Field Flower. This being said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets.

'Though it happe me to rehersin-- That ye han in your freshe song is saied, Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied, Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour.'

NOTE II.

PAGE 35 (43); line 13.--

".... persevering to the last, From well to better."

'For Knightes ever should be persevering To seek honour without feintise or slouth Fro wele to better in all manner thing.' CHAUCER:--_The Floure and the Leafe_.

NOTE III.

PAGE 37 (45).--_The Horn of Egremont Castle_. This Story is a Cumberland tradition; I have heard it also related of the Hall of Hutton John an ancient residence of the Huddlestones, in a sequestered Valley upon the River Dacor.

NOTE IV.

PAGE 58 (64).--_The Seven Sisters_. The Story of this Poem is from the German of FREDERICA BRUN.

NOTE V.

Page 63 (71); line 6.--

".... that thy Boat May rather seem To brood on air," _&c. &c._

See Carver's Description of his Situation upon one of the Lakes of America.

NOTE VI.

PAGE 112 (120); line 8.--"Her tackling rich, and of apparel high." From a passage in Skelton, which I cannot here insert, not having the Book at hand.

NOTE VII.

PAGE 150 (158); line 11.--"Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee." See an anecdote related in Mr. Scott's Border Minstrelsy.

NOTE VIII.

PAGE 152 (160); lines 13 and 14.--

"Who are to judge of danger which they fear And honour which they do not understand."

These two lines from Lord Brooke's Life of Sir Philip Sydney.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.