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Peace to his banished heart, at last,
In thy dominions shall descend,
And, strong as beechwood in the blast,
His spirit shall refuse to bend ;
Enduring life without a friend,
The world and falsehood left behind,
Thy votary shall bear elate,
(Triumphant o'er opposing Fate,)
His dark inspired mind.

But dost thou, Folly, mock the Muse
A wanderer's mountain walk to sing,
Who shuns a warring world, nor wooes
The vulture cover of its wing?

Then fly, thou cowering, shivering thing,
Back to the fostering world beguiled,
To waste in self-consuming strife
The loveless brotherhood of life,

Reviling and reviled!

Away, thou lover of the race

That hither chased yon weeping deer! If Nature's all majestic face

More pitiless than man's appear;
Or if the wild winds seem more drear
Than man's cold charities below,

Behold around his peopled plains,
Where'er the social savage reigns,
Exuberance of woe!

His art and honours wouldst thou seek
Embossed on grandeur's giant walls?
Or hear his moral thunders speak

Where senates light their airy halls,
Where man his brother man enthralls;
Or sends his whirlwind warrants forth

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To rouse the slumbering fiends of war,To dye the blood-warm waves afar, And desolate the earth?

From clime to clime pursue the scene,
And mark in all thy spacious way,
Where'er the tyrant man has been,
There Peace, the cherub, cannot stay;
In wilds and woodlands far away
She builds her solitary bower,

Where only anchorites have trod,
Or friendless men, to worship God,
Have wandered for an hour.

In such a far forsaken vale,

And such, sweet Eldurn vale, is thine,Afflicted nature shall inhale

Heaven-borrowed thoughts and joys divine;

No longer wish, no more repine For man's neglect or woman's scorn;

Then wed thee to an exile's lot,

For if the world hath loved thee not,

Its absence may be borne.

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CAN restlessness reach the cold sepulchred head?-
Ay, the quick have their sleep-walkers, so have the dead.
There are brains, though they moulder, that dream in the tomb,
And that maddening forehear the last trumpet of doom,
Till their corses start sheeted to revel on earth,
Making horror more deep by the semblance of mirth :
By the glare of new-lighted volcanoes they dance,
Or at mid-sea appal the chilled mariner's glance.

Such, I wot, was the band of cadaverous smile
Seen ploughing the night-surge of Heligo's isle.

The foam of the Baltic had sparkled like fire,

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And the red moon looked down with an aspect of ire;
But her beams on a sudden grew sick-like and grey,
And the mews that had slept clanged and shrieked far away-
And the buoys and the beacons extinguished their light,
As the boat of the stony-eyed dead came in sight,
High bounding from billow to billow; each form
Had its shroud like a plaid flying loose to the storm ;
With an oar in each pulseless and icy-cold hand,
Fast they ploughed, by the lee-shore of Heligoland,
Such breakers as boat of the living ne'er crossed;
Now surf-sunk for minutes again they uptossed,
And with livid lips shouted reply o'er the flood
To the challenging watchman that curdled his blood-
'We are dead-we are bound from our graves in the west,
First to Hecla, and then to-' Unmeet was the rest
For man's ear. The old abbey bell thundered its clang,
And their eyes gleamed with phosphorous light as it rang:
Ere they vanished, they stopped, and gazed silently grim,
Till the eye could define them, garb, feature and limb.

Now who were those roamers?—of gallows or wheel
Bore they marks, or the mangling anatomist's steel?
No, by magistrates' chains 'mid their grave-clothes you saw,
They were felons too proud to have perished by law;
But a ribbon that hung where a rope should have been,
'Twas the badge of their faction, its hue was not green,
Showed them men who had trampled and tortured and driven
To rebellion the fairest Isle breathed on by Heaven,--

Men whose heirs would yet finish the tyrannous task,
If the Truth and the Time had not dragged off their mask.
They parted-but not till the sight might discern

A scutcheon distinct at their pinnace's stern,
Where letters emblazoned in blood-coloured flame,
Named their faction-I blot not my page with its name.

SONG.

WHEN LOVE came first to Earth, the SPRING
Spread rose-beds to receive him,

And back he vowed his flight he'd wing

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But SPRING departing, saw his faith
Pledged to the next new comer—
He revelled in the warmer breath
And richer bowers of SUMMER.

Then sportive AUTUMN claimed by rights
An Archer for her lover,

And even in WINTER's dark cold nights
A charm he could discover.

Her routs and balls, and fireside joy,
For this time were his reasons-
In short, Young Love's a gallant boy,
That likes all times and seasons.

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