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O teach me to elude each latent snare,
And dancing lustres, where the unsteady eye, And whisper to my sliding heart,-Beware! Restless and dazzled, wanders unconfined With caution let me hear the syren's voice, O'er all this field of glories ; spacious field, And doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice. And worthy of the Master : he, whose hand If friendless, in a vale of tears I stray,
With hieroglyphics elder than the Nile Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way, Inscribed the mystic tablet, hung on high Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
To public gaze, and said, “ Adore, O man! And with strong confidence lay hold on thee; The singer of thy God." From what pure wells With equal eye my various lot receive,
of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn, Resign'd to die, or resolute to live;
Are all these lamps so fill'd ? these friendly lamps Prepared to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
For ever streaming o'er the azure deep While God is seen in all, and all in God.
To point our path, and light us to our home. I read his awful name, emblazon'd high How soft they slide along their lucid spheres ! With golden letters on th' illumined sky;
And silent as the foot of Time, fulfil Nor less the mystic characters I see
Their destined courses : Nature's self is hush'd, Wrought in each flower, inscribed in every tree; And, but a scatter'd leaf, which rustles through In every leaf that trembles to the breeze
The thick-wove foliage, not a sound is heard I hear the voice of God among the trees;
To break the midnight air; though the raised ear, With thee in shady solitudes I walk,
Intensely listening, drinks in every breath. With thee in busy crowded cities talk ;
How deep the silence, yet how loud the praise ! In every creature own thy forming power, But are they silent all ? or is there not In each event thy providence adore.
A tongue in every star, that talks with man, Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul, And woos him to be wise ? nor woos in vain : Thy precepts guide me, and thy fears control : This dead of midnight is the noon of thought, Thus shall I rest, unmoved by all alarms,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars. Secure within the temple of thine arms ;
At this still hour the self-collected soul From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there
Of high descent, and more than mortal rank;
Which must burn on for ages, when the sun, -
Forgets his wonted journey through the east. With decent triumph, and a look serene;
Ye citadels of light, and seats of gods ! Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul, And having lived to Thee, in Thee to die. Revolving periods past, may oft look back
With recollected tenderness on all
Its deep-laid projects, and its strange events,
As on some fond and doating tale that sooth'd
Her infant hours- be it lawful now
Approach your burning confines. Seized in The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams
thought, Of temper'd lustre court the cherish'd eye On Fancy's wild and roving wing I sail, To wander o'er their sphere ; where hung aloft From the green borders of the peopled Earth, Dian's bright crescent, like a silver bow
And the pale Moon, her duteous fair attendant ; New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns From solitary Mars ; from the vast orb Impatient for the night, and seems to push Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk Her brother down the sky. Fair Venus shines Dances in ether like the lightest leaf; E'en in the eye of day; with sweetest beam To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system, Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood Where cheerless Saturn midst his watery moons Of soften'd radiance from her dewy locks. Girt with a lucid zone, in gloomy pomp, The shadows spread apace'; while meeken'd Eve, Sits like an exiled monarch : fearless thence Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires I launch into the trackless deeps of space, Through the Hesperian gardens of the west, Where, burning round, ten thousand suns appear, And shuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine When Contemplation from her sunless haunts, Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth From the proud regent of our scanty day; Of unpierced woods, where wrapt in solid shade Sons of the morning, first-born of creation, She mused away the gaudy hours of noon, And only less than Him who marks their track, And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the sun, And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop, Moves forward ; and with radiant finger points Or is there aught beyond ? What hand unsee To yon blue concave swell’d by breath divine, Impels me onward through the glowing orbs Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven Of habitable nature, far remote, Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether To the dread confines of eternal night, One boundless blaze ; ten thousand trembling firos, | To solitudes of vast unpeopled space,
John, faithful John, is with the horses come;
The deserts of creation, wide and wild ;
Then spout alternate, I consent to hear,
Let no false rhyme offend my critic ear;-
But say, what prizes shall the victor hold ?
I guess your pockets are not lined with gold !
A ship these hands have built, in every part
Carved, rigg'd, and painted, with the nicest art;
The ridgy sides are black with pitchy store,
From stem to stern 'tis twice ten inches o'er.
The lofty mast, a straight smooth hazel framed, Another day salute our eyes,
The tackling silk, the Charming Sally named ; As smiling and as fair as she,
And,—but take heed lest thou divulge the tale,
The lappet of my shirt supplied the sail ,
An azure riband for a pendant flies :-
Now, if thy verse excel, be this the prize.
For me at home the careful housewives make,
The West its sweetness gives, the East its spice :
From soft Ionian isles, well known to fame,
Ulysses once, the luscious currant came.
"he green transparent citron Spain bestows, Hist, William ! hist! what means that air so gay? And from her golden groves the orange glows. Thy looks, thy dress, bespeak some holyday : So vast the heaving mass, it scarce has room Thy hat is brush'd ; thy hands, with wondrous Within the oven's dark capacious womb; pains,
'Twill be consign'd to the next carrier's care, Are cleansed from garden mould and inky stains ; I cannot yield it all,- be half thy share. Thy glossy shoes confess the lackey's care ; And recent from the comb shines thy sleek hair. What god, what saint, this prodigy has wrought ?* • Fortunate senex, his inter flumina nota. Declare the cause, and ease my labouring thought? # Non equidein invideo, miror magis.
* At nos hinc alii sitientes ibimus Afros,
Pars Scythiam, et rapidum Cretæ veniemus Oaxcm. Sed tamen, ille Deus qui sit, da Tityre nobis.
& Alternis dicetis.
Well does the gift thy liquorish palate suit ;
WILLIAM I know who robb'd the orchard of its fruit*
Cease! cease your carols, both! for lo the bell,
With jarring notes, has rung out Pleasure's knell.
Haste to your forms before the master call!
With thoughtful step he paces o'er the hall,
Loud through the dome the usher's strokes resound:
Sneak off, and to your places slyly steal, I scorn a telliale, or I could declare
Before the prowess of his arm you feel. How, leave unask'd, you sought the neighbouring
Then home by moonlight spurr'd your jaded steed,
To virgins languishing in love,
They speak the minute nigh;
And paint the rapture high.
In every language, every tongue,
The same kind things they say ;
In waking dreams by day.
Cassandra's fate reversed is theirs ;
She, true, no faith could gain,-
Yet are believed again.
THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
Yes, injured woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorn'd, opprest;
Resume thy native empire o'er the breast!
That angel pureness which admits no stain,
And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign
Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.
Thy rights are empire : urge no meaner claim, - | Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat,
Or usual 'tendance ;-ask not, indiscreet,
Some snug recess impervious: shouldst thou try Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
The 'custom'd garden walks, thine eye shall rue Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs, Make treacherous man thy subject, not thy friend ; Myrtle or rose, all crush'd beneath the weight Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.
Of coarse check'd apron,-with impatient hand
Twitch'd off when showers impend : or crossing Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude ;
lines Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow : Be, more than princes' gifts, thy favours sued ;
Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet
Flaps in thy face abrupt. Wo to the friend She hazards all, who will the least allow.
Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
On such a day the hospitable rites ! On this proud eminence secure to stay ;
Looks blank at best, and stinted courtesy, Subduing and subdued, thou soon'shalt find
Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.
With dinner of roast chickens, savoury pie,
Or tart or pudding :-pudding he nor tart Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought, That day shall eat ; nor, though the husband try,
Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move, Mending what can't be help'd, to kindle mirth In Nature's school, by her soft maxims taught,
From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow Thai separate rights are lost in mutual love. Clear up propitious :—the unlucky guest
In silence dines, and early slinks away.
I scarce knew why, look'd cross, and drove me
from them :
Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope . And their voice, Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
Usual indulgencies; jelly or creams, And whistles in its sound.
Relic of costly suppers, and set by
For me their petted one; or butter'd toast, The muses are turn'd gossips ; they have lost When butter was forbid ; or thrilling tale The buskind step, and clear high-sounding phrase, of ghost or witch, or murder-so I went Language of gods. Come then, domestic muse, And shelter'd me beside the parlour fire : In slipshod measure loosely prattling on
There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms, Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream, Tended the little ones, and watch'd from harm, Or drowning flies, or shoe lost in the mire
Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles By little whimpering boy, with rueful face; With elfin cunning bid, and oft the pins Come, muse, and sing the dreaded washing-day. Drawn from her ravell’d stockings, might have Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend,
sour'd With bow'd soul, full well ye ken the day One less indulgent.Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on
At intervals my mother's voice was heard, Too soon ;-for to that day nor peace belongs Urging despatch : briskly the work went on, Nor comfort ;-ere the first gray streak of dawn, All hands employ'd to wash, to rinse, to wring, The red-arm'd washers come and chase repose. To fuld, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait. Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth,
Then would I sit me down, and ponder much E'er visited that day: the very cat,
Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow From the wet kitchen scared and reeking hearth, bowl Visits the parlour,-an unwonted guest.
Of pipe amused we blew, and sent alost The silent breakfast-meal is soon despatch'd;
The floating bubbles ; litile dreaming then Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks
To see, Montgolfier, thy silken ball Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower.
Ride buoyant through the clouds—so near approach From that last evil, O preserve us, heavens !
The sports of children and the toils of men. For sbould the skies pour down, adieu to all
Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles, Remains of quiet: then expect to hear
And verse is one of them, this most of all.
TO MR. S. T. COLERIDGE.-1797. Saints have been calm while stretch'd upon the rack,
Midway the hill of science after steep And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals ; And rugged paths that tire the unpractised feet, Bat never yet did housewife notable
A grove extends in tangled mazes wrought, Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day.
And fill'd with strange enchantment:dubions - But grant the welkin fair, require not thou
shapes Who call'st thyself perchance the master there, Flit through dim glades, and lure the eager foot
Of youthful ardour to eternal chase.
Ephesian Dian sees no more
Her workmen fuse the silver ore,
E'en Salem's hallow'd courts have ceased And seem realities; while things of life,
With solemn pomps her tribes to feast, Obvious to sight and touch, all glowing round,
No more the victim bleeds ; Fade to the hue of shadows.—Scruples here,
To censers fillid with rare perfumes, With filmy net, most like th' autumnal webs
And vestments from Egyptian looms, Of floating gossamer, arrest the foot
A purer rite succeeds. generous enterprise ; and palsy hope
Yet still, where'er presumptuous man And fair ambition with the chilling touch
His Maker's essence strives to scan,
And lifts his feeble hands,
Though saint and sage their powers unite.
To fathom that abyss of light,
Ah! still that altar stands.
ODE TO REMORSE.
From bitter springs thy mother taught to flow,And matters cumbrous shaping. Youth beloved
Remorse! To man alone 'tis given Of Science of the Muse beloved,—not here,
Of all on earth, or all in heaven, Not in the maze of metaphysic lore,
To wretched man thy bitter cup to drain, Build thou thy place of resting ! lightly tread
Feel thy awakening stings, and taste thy wholeThe dangerous ground, on noble aims intent;
some pain. And be this Circe of the studious cell
Midst Eden's blissful bowers,
And amaranthine flowers,
Thy birth portentous dimm'd the orient day,
What time our hapless sire,
O'ercome by fond desire,
The high command presumed to disobey;
Then didst thou rear thy snaky crest,
And never, since that fatal hour,
May man, of woman born, expect t' escape thy THE UNKNOWN GOD.
power. To learned Athens, led by fame,
Thy goading stings the branded Cain
Cross th' untrodden desert drove,
Ere from his cradling home and native plain Midst idol altars as he stood,
Domestic man had learnt to rove.
By gloomy shade or lonely flood
Of vast primeval solitude, But one, apart, his notice caught,
Thy step his hurried steps pursued,
Thy voice awoke his conscious fears,
For ever sounding in his ears
A father's curse, a brother's blood;
Till life was misery too great to bear,
And torturing thought was lost in sullen, dumb
The king who sat on Judah's throne,
By guilty love to murder wrought,
Was taught thy searching power to own, Man has explored the pathless deep,
When, sent of Heaven, the seer his royal presence And lightnings snatch'd from heaven.
As, wrapt in artful phrase, with sorrow feign'd, And many a shrine in dust is laid,
He told of helpless, meek distress, Where kneeling nations homage paid,
And wrongs that sought from power redress, By rock, or fount, or grove ;
The pity-moving tale his ear obtain'd,