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LXXXI.

For then he was inspired, and from him came,
As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore,
Those oracles which set the world in flame,
Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more :
Did he not this for France? which lay before
Bow'd to the inborn tyranny of years ?
Broken and trembling to the yoke she bore,

Till by the voice of him and his compeers
Roused up to too much wrath, which follows o'ergrown fears?

LXXXII.

They made themselves a fearful monument!
The wreck of old opinions things which grew,
Breathed from the birth of time: the veil they rent,
And what behind it lay all earth shall view.
But good with ill they also overthrew,
Leaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild
Upon the same foundation, and renew

Dungeons and throncs, which the same hour re-fillid,
As heretofore, because ambition was self-will'd.

LXXXIII.
But this will not endure, nor be endured!
Mankind have felt their strength, and made it felt.
They might have used it better, but, allured
By their new vigour, sternly have they dealt
On one another; pity ceased to melt
With her once natural charities. But they,
Who in oppression's darkness caved had dwelt,
They were not eagles, nourish'd with the day;
What marvel then, at times, if they mistook their prey ?

LXXXIV.
What deep wounds ever closed without a scar ?
The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it; and they who war
With their own hopes, and have been vanquish'd bear
Silence, but not submission : in his lair
Fix'd Passion holds his breath, until the hour
Which shall atone for years ; nono need despair :

it cometh, and will comc,
To punish or forgive — in one we shall be slower.

It came,

the power

passionate, yet not impure, description and expression of love that ever kindled into words; which, after all, inust be felt, from their very force, to be inadequate to the dol. Realion - a painting can give no sufficient idea of tho ocean.

LXXXV.

Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,
With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction; once I loved
Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring

Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved,
That I with stern delights should e'er have been so mored.

LXXXVI.

It is the hush of night, and all between
Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,
Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen,
Save darken’d Jura, whose capt heights appear
Precipitously steep ; and drawing near,
There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,
of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear

Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,
Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more ;

LXXXVII.

IIe is an evening reveller, who makes
His life an infancy, and sings his fill;
At intervals, some bird from out the brakes
Starts into voice a moment, then is still.
There seems a floating whisper on the hill,
But that is fancy, for the starlight dews
All silently their tears of love instil,

Weeping themselves away, till they infuse
Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.

LXXXVIII.

Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven!
If in your bright leaves we would read the fate
Of men and empires, - 'tis to be forgiven,
That in our aspirations to be great,
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,
And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are
A beauty and a mystery, and create

In us such love and reverence from afar,
That sortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
LXXXIX.
All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ;
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep :-
All heaven and earth are still : From the high host
Of stars, to the lull’d lake and mountain-coast
All is concenter'd in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,

But hath a part of being, and a sense
of that which is of all Creator and defence.

XC.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude, where we are least alone;
A truth, which through our being then doth melt
And purifies from self : it is a tone,
The soul and source of music, which makes known
Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm,
Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone,

Binding all things with beauty; - 'twould disarm
The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm.

XCI.

Not vainly did the early Persian make
Ilis altar the high places and the peak
Of earth-o'ergazing mountains ('), and thus take
A fit and unwall'd temple, there to seek
The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak,
Upreard of human hands. Come, and compare
Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek,

With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air,
Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy pray'r !

(1) It is to be recollected, that the most beautiful and impressive doctrines of the divine Founder of Christianity were delivered, not in the Temple, but on the Mount.

To wave the question of devotion, and turn to human eloquence, the most effectual and splendid specimens were not pronounced within walls. Demosthenos addressed the public and popular assemblies. Cicero spoke in the forum. That this added to their effect on the mind of both orator and hearers, may be conceived from the difference between what we read of the emotions then and there produced, and those we ourselves experience in the perusal in the closet. It is one thing to read the Iliad at Sigæum and on the tumuli, or by the springs with Mount Ida above, and the plain and rivers and Archipelago around you; and another to trim your taper over it in a snug library - this I know.

Wero the early and rapid progress of what is called Methodism to be attributed to any cause beyond the enthusiasm

excited by its vehement faith and doctrines (the truth or error of which I presume neither to canvass nor to question) I should venture to asscribe it to the practico of prcaching in tho fields, and the unstudiсd and extemporanoous offusions of its lcachers.

XCII.

Thy sky is changed !--and such a change! Oh night, (')
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now 'nath found a tongue,

And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud !

XCIII.

And this is in the night: – Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,
A portion of the est and of thee !
How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth !
And now again 'tis black, and now, the glee

Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.

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Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his

way

between
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted !
Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted,
Love was the very root of the fond rage
Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed :

Itself expired, but leaving them an age
Of years all winters,

war within theinselves to wage.

The Mussulmans, whose erroncous devotion (at least in the lower orders) is most sincero, and therefore inpressivo, arc accustomed to repeat their prescribed orisons and prayers wherever they may be, at the staled hours—of course frequently in the openi air, kneeling upon a light mat, (which they carry for the purpose of a bed or cushion as repaired :) ihe ceremony lasts some minutes, during which thiey are totally absorbed, and only living in their supplication : nothing can disturb them. On me the simple and ontiro sincurity of these men, and the spirit which appearod to be within and upon them, made a far greater impression than any general rito which was ever perforined in places of worship, of which I have seen those of almost every persuasion under the sun; including most of own sectaries, and the Greek, the Catholic, the Armenian, the LutheTan, the Jewish, and the Mahometan. Many of the negroes, of whom there are numbers in the Turkish ompire, are idolaters, and have free exercise of their belief and its rites ; some of these I had a distant view of at Patras, and from what I could make out of them, they appeared to be of a truly Pagan description, and not very agreeable to a spectator.

(1)The thunder-storm to which these lines refer occurred on the 13th of June, 1816 at midnight. I have seen, among the Acroceraunian mountains of Chimari, several more terrible, but none more beautiful.

хсу.

Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand : For here, not one, but many, make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around: of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd His lightnings, — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation work’d, There the hot shalt should blast whatever therein lurk'd.

be

XCVI. Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may Things that have made me watchful; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, oh tempests! is the goal ? Are ye

like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ?

XCVIJ. Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, - could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe – into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ;

But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.

XCVIII.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playsul scorn,
And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, –
And glowing into day: we may resume
The march of our existence: and thus I,
Still on thy shores, fair Leman ! may

find room
And food for meditation, nor pass by
Much, that may give us pause, if ponder'd fittingly.

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