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MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY!
Where is the voice, whose harmony could bind
Seas in their wrath, and demon-frenzy quell; The eye, whose glance was sight unto = the blind,»
And fill'd the soul with joy unspeakable ? Where is the arm that crush'd our fiercest foe
Satan, and all the powers of darkness bound? Where is the Servant's humble form below,
In which the eternal Son of God was found ? Lo! where his pilgrimage of mercy ends ! What glory here into the grave
On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried at the battle of Senpach, in which the Swiss, fighting for their independence, totally defeated the Austrians in the fourteenth century.
Maxe way for liberty!»—he cried; Make
way for liberty, and died !
I left the God of truth and light,
I left the God who gave me breath, To wander in the wilds of night,
To perish in the snares of death!
Sweet was his service; and his yoke
Was light and easy to be borne;Through all his bonds of love I broke ;
I cast away his gifts in scorn.
In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A living wall, a human wood ! A wall, where every conscious stone Seem'd to its kindred thousands grown; A rampart all assaults to bear, Till time to dust their frames should wear; A wood, like that enchanted grove In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, Where every silent tree possess'd A spirit prison'd in its breast, Which the first stroke of coming strife Would startle into hideous life; So dense, so still, the Austrians stood, A living wall, a human wood! Impregnable their front appears, All horrent with projected spears, Whose polish'd points before them shine, From flank to flank, one brillant line, Bright as the breakers' splendours run Along the billows, to the Sun.
I danced in folly's giddy maze;
And drank the sea, and chased the wind ;But falsehood lurk'd in all her ways,
Her laughter left a pang behind.
I dream'd of bliss in pleasure's bowers,
While pillowing roses stay'd my head; But serpents hiss'd among the flowers, -
I woke, and thorns were all my bed.
In riches then I sought for joy,
And placed in glittering ore my trust; But found that gold was all alloy,
And worldly treasure fleeting dust.
I woo'd ambition-climb'd the pole,
And shone among the stars;- but fell Headlong, in all my pride of soul,
Like Lucifer, from heaven to hell.
and lost, and trampled down, Where shall the chief of signers fly, Almighty Vengeance, from thy frown?
Eternal Justice, from thy eye?
Opposed to these, a hovering band Contended for their native land : Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke From manly necks the ignoble yoke, And forged their fetters into swords, On equal terms to fight their lords: And what ipsurgent rage had gain'd, In many a mortal fray maintain'd: Marshalld once more at Freedom's cal, They came to conquer or to fall, Where he who conquer'd, he who fell, Was deem'd a dead, or living Tell ! Such virtue had that patriot breatlied, So to the soil his soul bequeathe That wheresoe'er his arrows flew, Heroes in his own likeness grew, And warriors sprang from every sod Which his awakening footstep trod.
And now the work of life and death Hung on the passing of a breath; The fire of conflict burnt within, The battle trembled to begin : Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, Point for attack was no where found, Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, The unbroken line of lances blazed ; That line 't were suicide to meet, And perish at their tyrants' feet, How could they rest within their graves, And leave their homes, the homes of slaves ! Would they not feel their children tread With clanging chains above their head? See Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, cantó viii.
Lo! through the gloom of guilty fears,
My faith discerns a dawn of grace; The sun of righteousness appears
In Jesus' reconciling face.
My suffering, slain, and risen Lord !
In deep distress I turn to thee I claim acceptance on thy word,
My God! my God! forsake not me!
Prostrate before thy mercy-seat,
I dare not, if I would, despair; None ever perish'd at thy feet,
And I will be for ever there.
Swift to the breach his comrades fly;
There richly reflected, the mansion, the lawn,
The banks and the foliage appear, By nature's own pencil enchantingly drawn
A landscape enslırined in a sphere!
Quick-glancing, or gliding at ease,
Through a vista of down-growing trees.
Thus Switzerland again was free: Thus death made way for Liberty!
A RACE, a race on earth we run;
And hold a prize in view, More briglit than if we chased the sun
Through lieaven's eternal blue.
The current, unrippled by volatile airs,
Now glitters, now darkens along;
Symplionious accordance to song;
Like soft-melting murmurs of grief;
of the redbreast in ominous notes, Foretelling the fall of the leaf; Thie son&
of the bee, in its serpentine flight, From blossom to blossom that roves; The song of the wind in the silence of night,
When it wakens or bushes the groves : And sweet, through the chorus of rapture and love,
Which God in his temple attends, With the
song of all nature, beneath and above, The voice of these waters ascends!
Changes we prove, and vanish soon;
Changes from youth to age, Silent as those that shape the moon,
In her brief pilgrimage.
Like constellations on their way,
That meet the morning light; We travel up to higher day
Through shades of deeper night.
The beauty, the music, the bliss, of that scene,
With ravisling sympathy stole Through the stranger's dark bosom, illumined his mien,
And soothed and exalted his soul.
LOVEST THOU ME?
Cold, gloomy forebodings then vanish away,
Ilis terrors to ecstasies turn, As the vapours of night, at the dawning of day,
With splendour and loveliness burn.
• Lovest thou me?, I hear
The stranger reposed in the lonely retreat,
Now smiling at phantoms gone by:
Saluted his car through his eye;
Some muse, as she wander'd that way,
Whose secrets I dare not betray. Strange tones, we are told, the pale mariner hears
When the mermaids ascend from their caves And sing where the moon, newly-risen, appears
A column of gold on the waves: And wild notes of wonder the shepherd entrance,
Who, dreaming, beholds in the vale By torch-liglit of glow-worms, the fairies that dance
To minstrelsy piped in the gale.
A SIMILE ON A LADY'S PORTRAIT.
A FOUNTAIN, issuing into light
Before a marble palace, threw To heaven its column, pure and bright,
Returning thence in showers of dew; But soon a humbler course it took, And glid away-a nameless brook.
Not less to that stranger mysteriously brought,
With harmony deep and refined,
Those numbers were heard in his mind :
While transport with tenderness vied,
By a spirit that sung at his side.
Flowers on its grassy margin sprung,
Flies o'er its eddying surface play'd, Birds 'midst the waving branches sunt,
Flocks through the verdant meadows stray'd; The weary there lay down to rest, And there the halcyon built her nest
Till copse and field in richest bloom,
Sparkle with dew, and breathe perfume,
While hill and valley, all day long, Transmitted to a Young Lady, in a distant county, who had desired And half the night, resound with song. a few lines in the Author's own hand-writing.
So may acquaintance, one by one,
Come like spring flowers to meet the sun,
And o'er these pages, pure and white,
Kind words, kind thoughts, kind prayers indite,
Which sweeter odour shall dispense
Than vernal blossoms to the sense ;
Till woods and streams less fair appear
Than autographs and sketches here:
-Or like the minstrels of the grove,
Pour strains of harmony and love,
The music made by heart to heart, The motion of a feather darts
In which the least can bear a part, The secrets of sequester'd hearts
More exquisite than all the notes To kindred hearts afur,
Of. nightingales' and thrushes' throats. As in the stillness of the night
Thus shall this book, from end to end,
Show in succession friend on friend,
By their own living hands portray'd,
In prose and versc, in light and shade,
By pen and pencil, -till her eye,
Who owns the volume shall descry
On many a leaf some lovely trace,
Reminding of a lovelier face;
With here and there the humbler line,
Recalling such a phiz as mine.
THE FIRST LEAF OF AN ALBUM.
Ut pictura, poesis.-Hor. de Art. Poct.
Two lovely sisters here unite
To blend improvement with delight;
Painting and poetry engage
By turns to deck the album's page.
each glowing picture be Youth, health, and strength successive fly,
The quintessence of Poesy, And in the end-may Cynthia die!
With skill so exquisitely wrought,
As if the colours were pure thought, • Unkind-inhuman!» Stay your tears,
Thought from the bosom's inmost cell, I only wish you length of years;
By magic tints made visible, And wish them still, with all their woes
That, while the eye admires, the mind
Itself, as in a glass, may find.
may the poet's verse, alike, And yesterday,-to-day,—10-morrow,
With all the power of Painting strike; Are but alternate joy and sorrow.
So freely, so divinely trace,
In every line, the line of grace; Now mark the sequel :-May your mind
And beautify, with such sweet art, In wisdom's ways true pleasure find,
The image-chamber of the heart, Grow strong in virtue, rich in truth,
That fancy here may gaze her fill, And year by year renew its youth;
Forming fresla scenes and shapes at will, Till, in the late triumphant hour,
Where silent words alone appear,
Or borrowing voice, but touch the ear.
Yet humble prose with these shall stand;
All in this fair enclosure meet,
The lady of the book to greet,
And, with the pen or pencil, make Flower after flower comes forth in spring,
These leaves love-tokens, for her sake. Bird after bird begins to sing ;
These lines and dots are locks and keys,
power to look,
Though frail as dust it meet the eye,
Sheffield, July 18, 1827.
A RIDDLE, WAICII EVERY READER MAY SOLVE TO HIMSELF BUT
NONE TO ANOTHER.
I know not what these lines will be, I know not who these lines may see;