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The good and evil thing, in human lore L'ndisciplin'd. For lowly was her birth, And Heaven had dooni'd her early years to
toil That pure from tyranny's least deed, herself Unfear'd by fellow-natures, she might wait On the poor lab'ring man with kindly looks, And minister refreshment to the tir'd Way-wanderer, when along the rough-hewn
bench The gweltry man had stretch'd him, and aloft Vacantly watch'd the rudely pictured board Which on the mulberry-bough with welcome
creek Swung to the pleasant breeze. Here, too,
the Maid Learnt more than schools could teach: Man's
shifting mind. His vices and his sorrows! And full oft At tales of cruel wrong and strange distress Had wept and shiver'd. To the tottering Kid Still as a Daughter would she run: she
plac'd His cold limbs at the sunny door, and lov'd To hear him story, in his garrulous sort, Of his eventful years, all come and gone.
So twenty seasons past. The Virgin's
Form, Active and tall, nor Sloth nor Luxury Had shrunk or paled. Her front sublime and
broad, Her flexile eye-brows wildly hair'd and low, And her full eye, now bright, now unillum'd. Spake more than woman's thought: and
nil her face Was moulded to such features, as declared, Thnt Pity there had oft and strongly work'd, And sometimes Indignation. Bold her mien, And like an haughty Huntress of the woods Shemov'd: yet sure she was a gentle maid! And in each motion her most innocent soul Bcam'd forth Bo brightly, that who saw
would say, Guilt was a thing impossible in her! Nor idly would have said, for she had liv'd In this bad world, as in a place of tombs, And tauch'd not the pollutions of the Dead.
Twns the cold season when the rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his
fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints And clouds slow-varying their huge imagery; When now, as she was wont, the healthful
Maid Had left her pallet ere one beam of day Slanted the fog-smoke. She went forth alone, Urged by the indwelling angel-guide,that oft, With dim inexplicable sympathies Disquieting the heart, shapes out man's
course To the prcdoomed adventure. Now the
She climbs of that steep upland, on whose top The pilgrim-man, who long since eve had
watch'd The alien shine of unconcerning stars, Shouts to himself, there first the Abbeylights Seen in Neufchatel's vale; now slopes adown The winding sheep-track valeward: when,
behold In the first entrance of the level road An unattended team! The foremost horse Lay with stretch'd limbs; the other*, yet
alive But stiff and cold, stood motionless, their
manes Hoar with the frozen night-dews. Dismally The dark-red dawn now glimmcr'd; hut ita
gleams Disclosed no face of man. The maiden paused, Then hail'd who might be near. No voice
replied. From the thwart wain at length there reach'd
her ear A sound so feeble that it almost seem'd Distant—and feebly, with slow effort push'd, A miserable man crept forth: his limbs The silent frost had eat, scathing like fire. Faint on the shafts he rested. She, mean
time. Saw crowded close beneath the coverture A mother and her children—lifeless all, Yet lovely! not a lineament was raarr'd— Death had put on so slumber-like a form! It was a piteous sight; and one, a babe. The crisp milk frozen on its innocent lipa. Lay on the woman's arm, its little hand Stretch'd on her bosom. Mutely questioning, The Maid gazed wildly at the living wretch. He, his head feebly turning, on the group Look'd with a vacant stare, and his eye spoke The drowsy calm that steals on worn-oat
anguish. She shudder'd: but, each vainer pang
subdued, Quick disentangling from the foremost horse The rustic bands, with difficulty and toil The stiff, crampt team forced homeward.
There arrived Anxiously tends him she with healing herbs. And weeps and prays—but the numb power
of Death Spreads o'er his limbs; and ere the noontide-hour The hov'ring spirits of his wifa and babes Hail him immortal! Yet amid his pangs. With interruptions long from ghastly throes. His voice had falter'd out this simple tale.
The Village, where he dwelt an Husbandman, By sudden inroad had been seiz'd and fired Late on the yester-evening. With hi* wit* And little ones he hurried his escape. They saw the neighbouring hamlets flamthey heard
Uproar and shrieks! and terror-struck drove
on Through unfrequented roads, a weary way! But saw nor house nor cottage. AH had
quench'd Their evcning-hearth-fire: for the alarm
had spread. The air dipt keen, the night was fang'd
with frost, And they provisioniess! The weeping wife Ill-hush'd her children's moans; and still
they moan'd, Till Fright and Cold and Hunger drank their
life. They closed their eyes in sleep, nor knew
'twas Death. He only, lashing his o'er-wenried team, Gained asad respite, till beside the base Of the high hill his foremost horse dropt
dead. Then hopeless, strengthless, sick for lack
of food, He crept beneath the coverture, entranced, Till waken'd by the maiden.—Such his tale.
Ah! suffering to the height of what was
suffered, Stnng with too keen a sympathy, the Maid Brooded with moving lips, mute, startful,
dark! And now her flush'd tumultuous features
shot % Such strange vivacity, as fires the eye Of misery fancy-craz'd! and now once more Naked, and void, and fix'd, and all, within, The unquiet silence of confused thought And shapeless feelings. For a mighty hand Was strong upon her, till in the heat of soul To the high hill-top tracing back her steps, Aside the beacon, up whose smoulder'd stones The tender ivy-trails crept thinly, there, Unconscious of the driving element, Yea, swallow'd up in the ominous dream,
she sate, Ghastly as broad-eyed Slumber! a dim
anguish Breath'd from her look! and still with pant
nnd sob Inl) she toil'd to flee, and still subdued Felt an inevitable Presence near.
Thus as she toil'd in troublous extacy, An horror of great darkness wrapt her round, And a voice uttered forth unearthly tones, Wining her soul:—Oh Thou of the Most
H'gh Uhosen, whom all the perfected in Heaven Behold expectant
ITke following fragments were intended to form P»rt of the Piiem when finished.]
Maid belov'd of Heaven! (To her the tutelary Power exclaimed)
Of Chaos the adventurous progeny
wave. Moaning she fled, and entered the Profound That leads with downward windings to the
cave Of darkness palpable, Desart of Death, Sunk deep beneath Gehenna's massy roots. There many a dateless age the Beldame
lurk'd And trembled; till engender'd by fierce Hate, Fierce Hate and gloomy Hope, a Dbe Hi arose, Shap'd like a black cloud mark'd with streaks
of fire. It rous'd the Hell-Hag: she the dew-damp
wiped From off her brow, and thro' the uncouth
maze Retraced her steps; but ere she reach'd the
mouth Of that drear labyrinth, shuddering she
paused, Nor dared re-enter the diminish'd Gulph. As thro' the dark vaults of some moulder'd
Tower (Which, fearful to approach, the evening
Hind Circles at distance in his homeward way) The winds breathe hollow, dcem'd the plaining groan Of prison'd spirits; with such fearful voice Night murmur'd, and the sound thro'Chaos
went. Leapt at her call her hideous-fronted brood! A dark behest they heard, and rush'd on
earth. Since that sad hour, in ('amps and Courts
adored. Rebels from God, and Monarchs o'er Mankind!
From his obscure haunt
Shrick'd Fear, of Cruelty the ghastly Dam, Fev'rish yet freezing, eager-paced yet slow, As she that creeps from forth her swampy
reeds, Ague, the bifonn Hag! when early Spring Beams on the marsh-bred vapours.
Even so (the exulting Maiden said)
The sainted Heralds of Good Tidings fell.
And thus they witness'd God! But now the
clouds Treading, and storms beneath their feet,
they soar Higher, and higher soar, and soaring sing Loud songs of Triumph! O ye spirits of God, Hover around my mortal agonies!— She spake, and instantly faint melody Melts on her ear, soothing and snd, and slow. Such measures, ns at calmest midnight heard By aged Hermit in his holy dream, Foretell and solace death; and now they rise Louder, as when with harp and mingled
voice The white-robed multitude of slaughter'd
saints At Heaven's wide-open'd portals gratulant Heceive some martyr'd Patriot. The harmony Entranced the Maid, till each suspended sense Brief slumber seized, and confused extacy.
At length awakening slow, she gazed
around: And thro' a mist, the relict of that trance, Still thinning as she gaz'd, an Isle nppenr'd. Its high, o'er-hanging, white, broad-breasted
cliffs Glass'd on the subject ocean. A vast Plain Stretch'd opposite, where ever and anon The plough-man following sad his meagre
team Turn'd up fresh sculls unstartlcd, and the
bones Of fierce hate-breathing combatants, who
there All mingled lay benenth the common earth. Death's gloomy reconcilement! O'er the
fields Stept a fair form, repairing all she might. Her temples olive-wreath'd; and where she
trod, Fresh flow rets rose and many a foodful herb. But wan her check, her footsteps insecure, And anxious pleasure bcnm'd in her faint eye. As she had newly left n couch of pain, Pale Convalescent! (Yet some time to rule With power exclusive o'er the willing world. That blest prophetic mandate then fulfill'd, Peace be on Earth!) An happy while, but
brief, She seem'd to wander with assiduous feet. And heal'd the recent harm of (hill and
blight, And nnrs'd each plant that fair and virtuous
But soon a deep prerursivc sound moan'd hollow:
Black rose the clouds, and now (as in a dream) /
Their reddening shapes, transform'd to Warrior-hosts,
CiunVd o'vr the Sky, and battled in mid-air.
Nor did not the large blood-drops fall from
Heaven Portentous! while aloft were seen to float. Like hideous features looming on the mist, Wan stains of ominous light! Resign'd,
yet sad, The fair Form how'd her olive-crowned
brow: Then o'er the Plain with oft reverted eye Fled till a place of tombs she rcach'd. and
there Within a ruin'd sepulchre obscure Found hiding-place.—The delegated Maid Gaz'd thro' her tears, then in sad tone*
exclaim'd: Thou mild-ey'd Form ! wherefore,ah ! wherefore fled? The power of Justice, like a name all
Light, Shone from thy brow; but all they, who
nnblam'd Dwelt in thy dwellings, call thee Happmess. Ah! why, uninjured and unprofited. Should multitudes against their brethren
rush 'i Why sow they guilt, still reaping misery? Lenient of cure, thy songs, oh Peace! are
sweet, As after showers the perfumed gale of eve. That flings the cool drops on a feveroos
cheek: And gay thy grassy altar pil'd with fruits. But boasts the shrine of Daemon War one
charm, Save that with many an nrgie strange and
foul, Dancing aroiind with interwoven arms. The Maniac Suicide and Giant Murdkr Exult in their fierce union! I am sad, And know not why the simple peasants
crowd Beneath the Chieftains'standard!— Thus the
To her the tutelary Spirit replied: When Luxury and Lust's exhausted store* No more rnn rouse the appetites of hot.-: When the low flattery of their reptile Lords Falls flat and heavy on the accustnm'd ear; When Eunuchs sing, and Fools buffoonery
make. And Dancers writhe their harlot-limb* in
vain: Then War and nil its dread lirissitudrs Pleasingly agitate their stagnant heart*; Its hopes, its fears, its victories, its defeats. Insipid Royalty's keen condiment! Therefore, uninjur'd and unprofited, (Victims at once and Exerutioners) The congregated husbandmen lay waste The Vineyard and the Harvest As along The Bothnic coast, or southward of the Line. Though hush'd the Winds and cloudless Use
high Noon, Yet if Leviathan, weary of case,
In sports unwieldy toss his Island-bulk,
dark, Short Peace shall skin the wounds of causeless War, And War, his strained sinews knit anew. Still violate th' unfinish'd works of Peace. Bat yonder look! for more demands thy
view!— He said: and straightway from the opposite
Isle A Vapor sail'd, as when a cloud, exhaled From Egypt's fields that steam hot pestilence, Travels the sky for many a trackless league, Till o'er some dcath-doom'd land, distant
in vain, It broods incumbent- Forthwith from the
Plain, Facing the Isle, a brighter cloud arose, And steer'd its course which way the Vapor went.
The Maiden paus'd, musing what this
might mean. But long time paas'd not, ere that brighter
cloud Returned more bright: along the Plain it
swept; And soon from forth its bursting sides
cmerg'd A dazzling Form. brnad-biiNoin'd. bold of eye. And wild her hair, save where with laurels
bound. Not more majestic stood the healing God, When from his brow the arrow sped that
slew Huge Python. Shrick'd Ambition's giant
throng, And with them hiss'd the Locust-fiends that
crawl'd And glitter'd in Corruption's slimy track. Great was their wrath, for short they knew
their reign: And snch commotion made they, and uproar. As when the mad Tornado bellows through The guilty islands of the western main, What time departing from their native
shores, that, or Kororaantyn's plain of Palms, The infuriate spirits of the Murdered make Fierce merriment, and vengeance ask of
Heaven. Warm'd with new influence, the unwholesome Plain s'"t up its foulest fogs to meet the Morn: The Sun that rose on Freedom, rose in
Maiden helov'd, and Delegate of Heaven! (To her the tutelary Spirit said) Soon shall the Morning struggle into Day, The stormy Morning Into cloudless Noon.
Much hast thou seen, nor all canst understand—
But this be thy best Omen—Save Tut Country!
Thus saying, from the answering Maid he pass'd,
And with him disappear'd the heavenly Vision.
Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven! All conscious Presence of the Universe! Nature's vast ever-acting Enercy! In Will, in Deed, Impulse of All to All! Whether thy Love with unrefracted ray Beam on the Prophet's purged eye, or if, Diseasing realms, the Enthusiast, wild of
thought, Scatter new frenzies on the infected Throng, Thou Both inspiring and predooming Both, Fit Instruments and best, of perfect End: Glory to Thee, Father of Earth and Heaven I
And first a Landscape rose,
More wild, and waste, and desolate, than
where The white bear, drifting on a field of ice, Howls to her sundered cubs with piteous
rogc And savage agony.
EXTRACTS FROM CHRISTABEL.
The night is rhill; the forest bare; Is it the wind that monncth bleak? There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet-curl F'rom the lovely Lady's check— There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its elan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up to the sky.
Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chane'd, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Lcoline. Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother: They parted—ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining— They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like i lill's which had been rent asunder;
A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor front, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.
Thy words, thou sire of Christabel, Are sweeter than my harp can tell; Yet might I gain a boon of thee, This day my journey should not be; So strange a dream hath come to me, That I had vow'd with music loud To clear yon wood from thing unblest, Warn'd by a vision in my rest! For in my sleep I saw that dove, That gentle bird, whom thou dost love, And callst by thy own daughter's nameSir Lcoline! I saw the same, Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan, Among the green herbs in the forest alone. Which when I saw and when I heard, f Wonder'd what might ail the bird:
For nothing near it could I see. Save the grass and green herbs underneath the old tree.
And in my dream, methought, J went To search out what might there be found; And what the sweet bird's trouble meant, That thus lay fluttering on the ground. I went and peer'd, and could descry No cause for her distressful cry; But yet for her dear lady's sake, I Btoop'd, methought the dove to take, When lo! I saw a bright green snake Coil'd around its wings and neck. Green as the herbs on which it couch'd. Close by the dove's its head it crouch'd; And with the dove it heaves and stirs, Swelling its neck as she swell'd hers! I woke; it was the midnight-hour, The clock was echoing in the tower; But tho' my slumber was gone by, This dream it would not pass away— It seems to live upon my eye! And thence I vow'd this self-same day, With music strong and saintly aong To wander thro' the forest bare, Lest aught unholy loiter there.
America to Great Britain. This poem, writteu in the year 1810, American Gentleman, a valued and dear friend, I communicate- to the reader Tor its moral, no less than its poetic spirit.
We are One. [p. 306.
This alludes merely to the moral union of the two Countries. The Author would "Hot have it supposed that the tribute of respect, offered in these Stanzas to the Land of his Ancestors, would be paid by him, if at the expense of the independence of that which ga\c him birth.
Or BaldaZhioky or the mossy stone
Of Solfar-Kapper, while the snowy blast
Drift* arrowy by, or eddies round his sledge.
Making the poor babe at its mother's back
Scream in its scanty cradle. \p. 307.
Balda Zhiok: i. e. mons altitudinis, tho highest
mountain in Lapland. Solfar-Kapper: capitium
Solfar, hie locus omnium, ouotquot veterum Lap
-nnnm superstitio sacrifices religiosoque cultui
edicavit, cclebratissimus crat, in parte sinus au
stralis situs, scmimilliaris spatio a mari distaus.
Ipse locus, qnem cariositatis gratia aliquando me
iuvisisse memiui, rtuabus prataltis lapiilibus, sibi
invicem eppositis, quorum alter musco circumda
tu« erat, constabat. Lkkmiim, rfe Lappom'bus. The
Lapland women carry their infants at their back
in a piece of excavated wood, which serves them
for a cradle Opposite to the infant's mouth there
is a hole for it to breathe through.—Mirandum
promts est et vlx credibile nisi cui vidisse conti
git. Lapponet byeme iter facientes per vastos
montes, perqne horrida et invia tesqna, eo pre
•ertim tempore quo omnia perpetuia alvibns ob
taeia eont et ni»e* ventia agitantor et in gyros
aguntor, viam ad destinata loca absque errore in
venire posse, lactantem autem infant em, si qarai habeat, ipsa maler in dorso bajulat, in rvca.n* ligno quod pro cunis utnntnr: in hoc infaas pas nis et pcllibus convolutns rolligatus jaceL Lkevic*.
Armed with Tbrngarsuck's power [p. 3t«
They call the Good Spirit, Torngarauck. The other great but malignant spirit is a namelcsf Female; she dwells under the sea in a gi*** house, where she can detain in captivity all lb* auimals of the ocean by her magic power. Whet a dearth befalls the Gr< colanders, an Angrkok «* magician must undertake a jonrney thither: a* passes through the kingdom of souls, over an horrible abyss into the palace of this phantom, and by his enchantments causes the captive creature* to ascend directly to the surface of the ocean
What time departing from their native sh
Leaving the Gates of Darkness, uh Death • hems thou to a Race yoked with Misery! Thou will not be received with lacerations of cheeks, a*r with funereal nlulatiou—but with circling dances. and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible tndrW. yet thou dwelleth with Libretv, stern Giaits' Borne on thy dark pinions over the •welling *f Ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath Citron-froee*. the lovers tell to their beloved whet horror*.being Men, they had endured from Men.