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But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height • Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ?
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! • Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! • No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. • All bail, ye genuine kings; Britannia's issue, bail!
• Girt with many a baron bold • Sublime their starry fronts they rear; 6 And gorgeous
dames and statesmen old, • In bearded majesty, appear. • In the midst a form divine ! • Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line ; • Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, • Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. • What strings symphonious tremble in the air! • What strains of vocal transport round her play! • Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; • They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. • Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, • Waves in the eye of heaven hermany-colour’dwings.
• The verse adorn again • Fierce War, and faithful Love, • And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. . In buskin'd measures move • Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, • With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast, • A voice, as of the cherub-choir, • Gales from blooming Eden bear;
* And distant warblings lessen on my ear, « That lost in long futurity expire. • Fond, impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine
cloud, • Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, • And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough for me: with joy I see • The different doom our fates assign. • Be thine despair, and scepter'd care; • To triumph, and to die, are mine.' He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.
As sickly plants betray a niggard earth,
Whose barren bosom starves her gen'rous birth,
Nor genial warmth, nor genial juice retains
Their roots to feed, and fill their verdant veins:
And as in climes, where winter holds his reign,
The soil, though fertile, will not teem in vain,
Forbids her germs to swell, her shaqes to rise,
Nor trusts her blossoms to the churlish skies:
To draw mankind in vain the vital airs,
Unform'd, unfriended, by those kindly cares,
That health and vigour to the soul impart,
Spread the young thought, and warm the opening
So fond instruction on the growing powers ·
Of nature idly lavishes her stores,
If equal justice, with unclouded face,
Smile not indulgent on the rising race,
And scatter with a free, though frugal hand,
Light golden showers of plenty o'er the land:
But tyranny has fix'd her empire there,
To check their tender hopes with chilling fear,
And blast the blooming promise of the year.
This spacious animated scene survey,
From where the rolling orb, that gives the day,
His sable sons with nearer course surrounds,
To either pole, and life's remotest bounds. ,
How rude soe'er th' exterior form we find,
Howe'er opinion tinge the varied mind,
Alike to all the kind, impartial heav'n
The sparks of truth and happiness has giv'n:
With sense to feel, with memory to retain,
They follow pleasure, and they fly from pain;
Their judgment mends the plan their fancy draws,
Th’event presages, and explores the cause;
The soft returns of gratitude they know,
By fraud elude, by force repel the foe;
While mutual wishes, mutual woes endear.
The social smile and sympathetic tear.
Say, then, through ages by what fate confin'd To different climes seem different souls assign'd? Here measur'd laws and philosophic ease Fix, and improve the polish'd arts of peace.
There industry and gain their vigils keep,
Command the winds, and tame th' unwilling deep.
Here force and hardy deeds of blood prevail ;
There languid pleasure sighs in every gale.
Oft o'er the trembling nations from afar
Has Scythia breath'd the living cloud of war;
And, where the deluge burst, with sweepy sway,
arms, their kings, their gods were roll d'away.
As oft have issued, host impelling host,
The blue-eyed myriads from the Baltic coast.
The prostrate south to the destroyer yields
Her boasted titles, and her golden fields;
With grim delight the brood of winter view
A brighter day, and heavens of azure hue,
Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose,
And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows.
Proud of the yoke, and pliant to the rod,
Why yet does Asia dread a monarch's nod,
While European freedom still withstands
Th’encroaching tide, that drowns her lessening lands,
And sees far off with an indignant groan
Her native plains, and empires once her own.
Can opener skies and suns of fiercer flame
O’erpower the fire, that animates our frame;
As lamps, that shed at eve a cheerful ray,
Fade and expire beneath the eye of day?
Need we the influence of the northern star
To string our nerves and steel our hearts to'war?
And, where the face of nature laughs around,
Must sick’ning virtue fly the tainted ground?
Unmanly thought! what seasons can control,
What fancied zone can circumscribe the soul,
Who, conscious of the source from whence she
By reason's light, on resolution's wings,
Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes
O'er Lybia's deserts and through Zembla's snows?
She bids each slumb'ring energy awake,
Another touch, another temper take,
Suspends th' inferior laws, that rule our clay:
The stubborn elements confess her sway;
Their little wants, their low desires, refine,
And raise the mortal to a height divine.
Not but the human fabric from the birth Imbibes a flavour of its parent earth. As various tracts enforce a various toil, The manners speak the idiom of their soil. An iron-race the mountain-cliffs maintain, Foes to the gentler genius of the plain : For where unwearied sinews must be found With side-long plough to quell the flinty ground, To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood, To brave the savage rushing from the wood, What wonder, if to patient valour train's, They guard with spirit, what by strength they
gain'd? And while their rocky ramparts round they see, The rough abode of want and liberty, (As lawless force from confidence will grow) Insult the plenty of the vales below!