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The stranger, slave, or savage; their
decay Has dried up realms to deserts: -- not so
thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves'
play; Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure
brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
mighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed - in breeze, or gale, or storm,
1641 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and
sublime The image of Eternity – the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy
slime The monsters of the deep are made; each
zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
CLXXXIV And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my of youthful sports was on thy breast to
be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward. From a boy
1650 I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to
And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane - as I do here.
CLXXXV My task is done — my song hath ceased
my theme. Has died into an echo; it is fit The spell should break of this protracted
dream. The torch shall be extinguish'd which hath
1660 My midnight lamp- and what is writ,
CLXXX His steps are not upon thy paths, thy
fields Are not a spoil for him, - thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile
strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all de
spise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful
spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply
lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth:— there let
1620 CLXXXI The armaments which thunderstrike the
walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs
make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,These are thy toys, and, as the snowy
flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which
mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
CLXXXII Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee
1630 Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what
are they? Thy waters wash'd them power while they
were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores
• AND THOU ART DEAD, AS
YOUNG AND FAIR'
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade; Heu, quanto minus est cum reliquis versari The night that follow'd such a morn quam tui meminisse!
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud bath pass'd,
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
Shine brightest as they fall from high.
My tears might well be shed, There is an eye which could not brook To think I was not near to keep A moment on that grave to look.
One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, I will not ask where thou liest low,
| To fold thee in a faint embrace, Nor gaze upon the spot;
Uphold thy drooping head;
Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain, 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die Yet did I love thee to the last
Through dark and dread Eternity
Returns again to me,
Than aught, except its living years.
STANZAS FOR MUSIC
The magnet of their course is gone, or only FARE THEE WELL
points in vain The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall
[Publ. 1816] never stretch again.
Alas! they had been friends in Youth :
But whispering tongues can poison truth : Then the mortal coldness of the soul like And constancy lives in realms above ;
And Life is thorny; and youth in vain; death itself comes down;
And to be wroth with one we love, It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not
Doth work like madness in the brain : dream its own;
But never either found another That beavy chill has frozen o'er the foun
To free the hollow heart from paining tain of our tears,
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; And though the eye may sparkle still, 't is
A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither beat, nor frost, nor thunder,
The marks of that which once hath been.' Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and
COLERIDGE's Christabel. mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more
FARE thee well! and if for ever, their former hope of rest;
Still for ever, fare thee well! 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but
Would that breast were bared before thee worn and grey beneath.
Where thy head so oft hath lain, Oh could I feel as I have felt, – or be what
| While that placid sleep came o'er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again:
Would that breast, by thee glanced over, many a vanish'd scene;
Every inmost thought could show ! 10 As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all
Then thou wouldst at last discover brackish though they be,
'T was not well to spurn it so. So, midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me.
Though the world for this commend thee
Though it smile upon the blow,
Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe:
Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it,
Nor the war of the many with one If my soul was not fitted to prize it,
'T was folly not sooner to shun: And if dearly that error hath cost me,
And more than I once could foresee, I have found that, whatever it lost me,
It could not deprive me of thee. From the wreck of the past, which hath
perish'd, Thus much I at least may recall, It hath taught me that what I most cher.
ish'd Deserved to be dearest of all: In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wild waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA
[Publ. 1816] Though the day of my destiny 's over,
And the star of my fate hath declined, Tby soft heart refused to discover
The faults which so many could find; Though thy soul with my grief was ac
quainted, It shrunk not to share it with me And the love which my spirit hath painted
It never hath found but in thee.
EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA
Then when nature around me is smiling,
The last smile which answers to mine, 10 I do not believe it beguiling,
Because it reminds me of thine;
My sister! my sweet sister! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine: