Afflictions of HARP! could'st thou venture, on thy boldest string, England The faintest note to echo which the blast
Caught from the hand of Moses as it passed O'er Sinai's top, or from the Shepherd-king, Early awake, by Siloa's brook, to sing Of dread Jehovah; then should wood and waste Hear also of that name, and mercy cast Off to the mountains, like a covering Of which the Lord was weary. Weep, oh ! Weep with the good, beholding King and Priest Despised by that stern God to whom they raise Their suppliant hands; but holy is the feast He keepeth; like the firmament his ways: His statutes like the chambers of the deep.
From the Restoration to the Present Times.
I SAW the figure of a lovely Maid Seated alone beneath a darksome tree, Whose fondly-overhanging canopy
Set off her brightness with a pleasing shade. No Spirit was she; that my heart betrayed, For she was one I loved exceedingly; But while I gazed in tender reverie
(Or was it sleep that with my Fancy played?) The bright corporeal presence-form and face- Remaining still distinct grew thin and rare, Like sunny mist;—at length the golden hair, Shape, limbs, and heavenly features, keeping pace Each with the other in a lingering race Of dissolution, melted into air.
Patriotic LAST night, without a voice, that Vision spake Sympathies Fear to my Soul, and sadness which might seem Wholly dissevered from our present theme; Yet, my beloved Country! I partake Of kindred agitations for thy sake;
Thou, too, doth visit oft my midnight dream; Thy glory meets me with the earliest beam Of light, which tells that Morning is awake. If aught impair thy beauty or destroy, Or but forebode destruction, I deplore With filial love the sad vicissitude;
If thou hast fallen, and righteous Heaven restore The prostrate, then my spring-time is renewed, And sorrow bartered for exceeding joy.
Charles the WHO comes-with rapture greeted, and caressed Second With frantic love-his kingdom to regain ? Him Virtue's Nurse, Adversity, in vain Received, and fostered in her iron breast: For all she taught of hardiest and of best Or would have taught, by discipline of pain And long privation, now dissolves amain, Or is remembered only to give zest To wantonness.-Away Circean revels! But for what gain? if England soon must sink Into a gulf which all distinction levels— That bigotry may swallow the good name, And, with that draught, the life-blood: misery, shame,
By Poets loathed; from which Historians shrink!
YET Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind Charged with rich words poured out in thought's ianism
Whether the Church inspire that eloquence,
Or a Platonic Piety confined
To the sole temple of the inward mind; And One there is who builds immortal lays, Though doomed to tread in solitary ways, Darkness before and danger's voice behind; Yet not alone, nor helpless to repel
Sad thoughts; for from above the starry sphere Come secrets, whispered nightly to his ear; And the pure spirit of celestial light
Shines through his soul-"that he may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.
THERE are no colours in the fairest sky
So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing. With moistened
We read of faith and purest charity
In Statesman, Priest, and humble Citizen: O could we copy their mild virtues, then What joy to live, what blessedness to die! Methinks their very names shine still and bright; Apart-like glow-worms on a summer night; Or lonely tapers when from far they fling A guiding ray; or seen-like stars on high, Satellites burning in a lucid ring
Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.
Clerical Nor shall the eternal roll of praise reject Integrity Those Unconforming; whom one rigorous day Drives from their Cures, a voluntary prey To poverty, and grief, and disrespect,
And some to want as if by tempests wrecked On a wild coast; how destitute! did They Feel not that Conscience never can betray, That peace of mind is Virtue's sure effect. Their altars they forego, their homes they quit, Fields which they love, and paths they daily trod, And cast the future upon Providence ;
As men the dictate of whose inward sense Outweighs the world; whom self-deceiving wit Lures not from what they deem the cause of God.
Persecution WHEN Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry, of the The majesty of England interposed
Covenanters And the sword stopped; the bleeding wounds were closed;
And Faith preserved her ancient purity. How little boots that precedent of good, Scorned or forgotten, Thou canst testify, For England's shame, O Sister Realm! from wood, Mountain, and moor,and crowded street, where lie The headless martyrs of the Covenant, Slain by Compatriot-protestants that draw From councils senseless as intolerant
Their warrant. Bodies fall by wild sword-law; But who would force the Soul tilts with a straw Against a Champion cased in adamant.
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