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Four Ages of Poetry (from Ollier's Miscellany)

1852 March, Hora Dramaticæ, No. 1 (From "Fraser's"

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1860 March, Shelley Letters

[All the Articles from "Fraser's Magazine," have been reprinted
with the kind permission of Messrs. Longmans.]

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VOL. III.

THE LORD'S PRAYER

PARAPHRASED.

A. Æ. 16.

[Written in 1801, and published in 1806.]

ATHER of all! Who dwell'st above!
Thy mercies we proclaim:

FA

To Thee be endless fear and love;
All-hallow'd be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come: Thy will be done

On earth, as 'tis in HEAV'N:

In ev'ry realm beneath the sun,

To Thee be glory giv'n.

Grant us, oh Thou Who cloth'st the field!

This day our daily bread:

As we to others mercy yield,
On us Thy mercy shed.

Permit not in temptation's road

Our heedless steps to stray;

Free us from evil's dire abode,

And guide us on our way.

For ever above all to tow'r,
For ever bright to shine,

Thine is the kingdom, Thine the pow'r,
And endless glory Thine.

1

TRANSLATION

FROM THE ITALIAN OF GUACINI.

"O Primavera, gioventu del anno," &c.

OUTH of the year! celestial spring!

YOUT

Again descend thy silent showers;
New loves, new pleasures dost thou bring,
And earth again looks gay with flowers.

Dark winter's chilling storms are flown,
All nature hails thy reign with gladness,
All nature smiles, save I alone,

The victim of eternal sadness.

Thy rosy smiles, all-cheering spring,
In vain to welcome I endeavour:
They but the sad remembrance bring
Of joys which I have lost for ever!
February 1, 1803.

T

THE MONKS OF ST. MARK.

[Written in 1804.]

IS midnight: the sky is with clouds overcast ;

The forest-trees bend in the loud-rushing blast;

The rain strongly beats on these time-hallowed spires;

The lightning pours swiftly it's blue-pointed fires;
Triumphant the tempest-fiend rides in the dark,
And howls round the old abbey-walls of ST. MARK!

The thunder, whose roaring the trav'ller appals,
Seems as if with the ground it would level the walls:
But in vain pours the storm-king this horrible rout;
The uproar
within drowns the uproar without;
For the friars, with BACCHUS, not SATAN, to grapple,
The refect'ry have met in, instead of the chapel.

'Stead of singing TE DEUMS, on ground-pressing knees,
They were piously bawling songs, catches, and glees:

Or, all speakers, no hearers, unceasing, untir'd,
Each stoutly held forth, by the spirit inspir'd,
Till the ABBOT, who only the flock could controul,
Exclaim'd: "AUGUSTINE! pr'ythee push round the bowl!"

The good brother obey'd; but, oh direful mishap!
Threw its scalding contents in JERONIMO'S lap!
And o'er his bare feet as the boiling tide stream'd,
Poor AUGUSTINE fretted, JERONIMO scream'd,
While PEDRO protested, it vexed him infernally,
To see such good beverage taken externally!

The ABBOT, FRANCISCO, then feelingly said:
"Let that poor wounded devil be carried to bed:
And let AUGUSTINE, who, I boldly advance,

Is the whole and sole cause of this fatal mischance,
If e'er to forgiveness he dare to aspire,
Now bear to his cell the unfortunate friar."

He rose to obey, than a snail rather quicker,
But, finding his strength much diminish'd by liquor,
Declar'd, with a hiccup, he scarcely could stand,
And begg'd Brother PEDRO to lend him a hand.
Brother PEDRO Consented, but all was not right,
Till NICHOLAS offer'd to carry a light.

By the head and the feet then their victim they held,
Who with pain and with fear most tremendously yell'd;
And with one little lamp that scarce shone through the
gloom,

In path curvilinear march'd out of the room,

And, unheeding the sound of the rain and the blast,
Through the long dismal corridor fearlessly pass'd.

From the right to the left, from the left to the right,
Brother NICHOLAS reel'd, inconsiderate wight!
For not seeing the stairs to the hall-floor that led,
Instead of his heels he soon stood on his head :
He rolls to the bottom, the lamp-flame expires,
And darkness envelopes the wondering friars!

He squall'd, for the burning oil pour'd on his hand :
Bewilder'd did PEDRO and AUGUSTINE stand:

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