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And guide the wakeful Helms-man's
upon tbe rock inclin'd
Him* who grasp'd the gates of Hell,
Genius of Horror and romantic awe,
Whose eye explores the secrets of the deep,
Whose power can bid the rebel fuids creep, Can force the inmost soul to own its law;
Who shall now, sublimest spirit,
And now he lays his aching head
Mighty Magician! long thy wand has lain
Buried beneath the unfathomable deep;
And oh for ever must its efforts sleep,
Oh yes, 'tis his!--Thy other son!
Fuesslin waves thy wand, -again they rise,
Again thy wildering forms salute our ravish'd eyes. Him didst thou cradle on the dizzy steep
Where round his head the volley'd light'nings flung,
And the loud winds that round his pillow rung Wooed the stern infant to the arms of sleep.
Or on the highest top of Teneriffe, Seated the fearless Boy, and bade him look
Where far below the weather-beaten skiff On the gulph bottom of the ocean strook. Thou mark’dst bim drink with ruthless ear
The death-sob, and disdaining rest,
Then Superstition at thy call,
Thére pity's lute arrests his ear,
the turf he lies,
And as upon
Taste lastly comes and smooths the whole,
The Poet dreams:- -The shadow flies,
And tenfold vigour o'er it flows.
And as he sees the shadow rise,
Sublime before his wandering eyes, Starts at the image his own mind conceiv'd.
ADDRESSED TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, K. Go
RETIRED, remote from human noise,
A humble Poet dwelt serene,
Were manifold I ween.
He watched the swallow swimming round,
And inused, in reverie profound, On wayward man's unhappy state, And pondered mucb, and paused on deeds of antient date.
II. i. “Oh, 'twas not always thus," he cried,
“ There was a time, when genius claimed Respect from even towering pride,
Nor hung her head ashamed:
The titled, and the rich alone,
On penury's wretched couch reclines,
Not always did repining rue,
And misery her steps pursue,
When Sidney sung his melting song,
When Sheffield joined the harmonious throng,
No more our nobles love to grace
But arrogantly deem the muse as base;
the minstrel :--still at eve
With solitary song.
Neglect had stung him to the core;
And muse on all his sorrows o'er,
But human vows, how frail they be!
Fame brought Carlisle unto his view,
The Augustan age anew.