XXIX.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION.

THE thunder rolled majestically on

The lightning flashed-the sky was one dark shroud
Of cloudy vapours clustering in a crowd;
The dying breeze made melancholy moan,

Sad as the death-bell's deep and muffled tone;

*

The Moor's vast brow was hidden by a cloud,— The mighty Giant looked no longer proud,

But terror-stricken, on his bed of stone.

The scene was solemn, and recalled the clime
Where first I drew my breath, where first the storm
To young Imagination showed his form,
Wild, wonderful, and awfully sublime.

I viewed the tempest brooding in the sky,
And lived again in youthful days gone by.

*The Rock named "the Moor's Head." See the poem on this Rock, p. 51.

XXX.

ON THE OLD AND NEW YEAR.

"Lo! its folds far waving on the wind,
I saw the train of the Departing Year."

COLERIDGE.

66

TIME rolls his ceaseless course.'

» Year after year

Succeeds each other in perpetual round,

Till Time himself shall never more be found,
And shall be numbered with the things that were.

Eternity, with an Ithuriel spear,

Touches the clouds wherewith the earth is bound; And Death, and Time, and Sorrow's aching wound In the bright burst of glory disappear.

Another year is waning in our sight,—

As the Moon's crescent clasping her dark orb
With a thin silvery circlet of fair light,
Which the dark shade will instantly absorb.

"Tis gone! But mark the heavens awhile, and soon The New Year's Chariot is the crescent Moon.

XXXI.

THE SAME.

BEHOLD the New Year! In a robe of Snow
It rises on our view. To me it brings

No happiness upon its chilly wings,

For passing time unfolds new realms of woe.
What joy or pleasure can new years bestow
On eyes that weep a Loved One's sufferings?
From a grieved soul no gleam of gladness flings
Light to the eyes. Yet Hope's fair Tree will grow,
And blossom best when bathed by sorrow's tears:
While deep within Earth's bosom it strikes root,
The budding branches reach the gates of heaven,
Whence to the earth they drop celestial fruit,
Which the sad heart of Man more surely cheers
Than brightest gems for which the world hath striven.

XXXII.

WRITTEN IN FRANCE.

I LOVE an open spirit, brave and free-
A temper frank-

—a face that gleams with light, Reflecting happy thoughts and fancies bright, As sunbeams playing o'er a calm clear sea. Such is the soul that I would wish to be

Linked with my own; with such would I unite;
For I abhor all devious ways. But right,
With thoughts intent on immortality,

And straight as the red lightning's fiery path,
Must be the purpose of the man I love;
Whom trials will preeminently prove

A spirit of another world,-who hath
Disdain of things which meaner spirits move,

But scorneth not the lowliness of faith.

XXXIII.

FROM THE PROVENÇAL 16.

WHEN in the mirror of plain common sense
The various lots of this world meet our view,
And when, adjusted in a balance true,
Is weighed the worth of every man's pretence,
"Twixt high and low how small the difference!
What homage to the greatest prince is due?
Why needs the vassal his low lot to rue?
Though as from earth the sky's magnificence,
And the whole host of radiant stars appear,
We measure distance between man and man,-
To Reason's eye the false illusions fade;
No difference exists, but as we scan
Virtue and vice: all else is but a shade;

And this world's ranks are floating robes of air.