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Which gathers shadow, substance, life, and all
A melancholy halo scarce allowed
And send us prying into the abyss,
Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds,
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art tlion? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved headSl . In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled, The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy, Death hush'd that pang for ever : with thee fled The present happiness and promised joy Which fill'd the imperial isles so full it seem'd to cloy.
Peasants bring forth in safety.—Can it be, Oh thou that wert so happy, so adored! Those who weep not for kings shall weep for thee, And Freedom's heart, grown heavy, cease to hoard Her many griefs for Owe; for she had pour'd Her orisons for thee, and o'er thy head Beheld her Iris.—Thou, too, lonely lord, And desolate consort—vainly wert thou wed I The husband of a year! the father of the dead!
Of sackcloth was thy wedding garment made; Thy bridal's fruit is ashes : in the dust The fair-haired Daughter of the Isles is laid, The love of millions! How we did entrust Futurity to her! and, though it must Darken above our bones, yet fondly deem'd Our children should obey her child, and bless'd Her and her hoped-for seed, whose promise seem'd Like stars to shepherds' eyes:— 'twas but a meteor beam'd. CLXXI.
Woe unto us, not her; for she sleeps well .The fickle reek of popular breath, the tongue Of hollow counsel, the false oracle, Which from the birth of monarchy hath rung Its knell in princely ears, till the o'erstung Nations have arm'd in madness, the strange fate Which tumbles mightiest sovereigns, and hath flung Against their blind omnipotence a weight Within the opposing scale, which crushes soon or late,—
These might have been her destiny; but no, Our hearts deny it : and so young, so fair, Good without effort, great without a foe; But now a bride and mother—and now there! How many ties did that stern moment tear! From thy Sire's to his humblest subject's breast Is linked the electric chain of that despair, Whose shock was as an earthquake's, and opprest The land which loved thee so that none could love thee best.
Lo, Nemi! navelled in the woody hills
And near Albano's scarce divided waves Shine from a sister valley;—and afar The Tiber winds, and the broad Ocean laves The Latian coast where sprung the Epic war, « Arms and the Man, » whose re-ascending star Rose o'er an empire; but beneath thy right Tully reposed from Rome;—and where yon bar Of girdling mountains intercepts the sight, The Sabine farm was till'd, the weary bard's delight.
But I forget.—My Pilgrim's shrine is won, And he and I must part,—so let it be,— His task and mine alike are nearly done; Yet once more let us look upon the sea; The midland Ocean breaks on him and me, And from the Alban Mount we now behold Our friend of youth, that Ocean, which when we beheld it last by Calpe's rock unfold Those waves, we followed on till the dark Euxine roll'd
Upon the blue Symplegades : long years— Long, though not very many, since have done Their work on both; some suffering and some tears Have left us nearly where we had begun: Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run, We have had our reward—and it is here; That we can yet feel gladden'd by the sun, And reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dear As if there were no man to trouble what is clear.
Oh! that the Desart were my dwelling place, With one fair Spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her! Ye Elements!—in -whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted—Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean—roll I Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin—his control Stops with the shore ;—upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unkuell'd, uncoiliu'd, and unknown.