PUBLISHED BY JOHN ARLISS. 35, GUTTER LANE, CHEAPSIDE, SEPP 2.1822.
"MINOR POEMS." BY R. SOUTHEY, ESQ. POET LAUREATE.
SLOWLY the flowing tide
Came in, old Avon! scarcely did mine eyes,
As watchfully I roam'd thy green-wood side,
Behold the gentle rise.
With many a stroke and strong
The labouring boatmen upward plied their oars,
And yet the eye beheld them labouring long
Between thy winding shores.
Now down thine ebbing tide
The unlabour'd boat falls rapidly along;
The solitary helms-man sits to guide,
And sings an idle song.
Now o'er the rocks, that lay
So silent late, the shallow current roars;
Fast flow thy waters on their sea-ward way
Through wider-spreading shores.
Avon! I gazed and know
The lesson emblem'd in thy varying way;
It speaks of human joys that rise so slow,
So rapidly decay.
THE RESTORATION OF LIBERTY. INSCRIBED TO THE PATRIOTIC SPANIARDS OF 1820.
WELL have ye done your work, ye men of Spain,
Brave sons of Freedom! who to boundless power
Have added mercy; daring to regain
The rights that cunning stole in luckless hour,
And bold to keep the conquer'd prize; in vain
Shall tyranny's portending shadows lour.
Over the land ye love, while gallant still
Your hearts and hands protect her from all ill.
Thus is the cause upheld-avenged the wrongs
Of men impatient of a bigot's sway,
Who rush'd in ardent and tumultuous throngs
To hail the light of Freedom's rising day,
Spurning the servile life that but prolongs
(Since 'tis its destiny still to obey)
The tyrant's power, and happier to die
Than draw their silent breath in slavery.
The tree of freedom water'd with their blood
Again bears fruit; from their proud ashes rise
Powers that pale Tyranny ne'er yet withstood,
Powers that o'ercome him and his old allies;
Wild Superstition and her bigot-brood
Shrink into dust before the firm and wise;-
Reason resumes her rights and clearly shews
How frail the fabric rear'd on human woes!
Porlier and Lacy-would it were their lot
To see this long implored and happy change!—
Porlier and Lacy--names no time shall blot
While men have wrongs to die for or avenge;
They did not fall in vain-for do they not
[range,
Even from their graves near which their brethren
With voice all solemn and commanding, call
Upon their followers to" be free or fall."
And they are free, and shall no longer fall,
Save in defending rights they have regain'd,
Should Tyranny again his legions call
And marshal them beneath his banner stain'd With their best blood whom nothing could appal,
While life was to be lost, or freedom gain'd.
But keep the 'vantage ground ye now possess,
And nought again shall mar your happiness.
Once more are closed the gates of that deep hell
Where all who not to human gods would bow
Were sent in darkness and in chains to dwell,
Till their souls own'd the mastery of woe;
Till they consented their best hopes to sell,
And kiss'd the gentle hand that dealt the blow;
Here were they sent to this dread place of tears,
To waste away in gloom their best of years.
"But this could not endure or be endured"*
By spirits true to nature and to God;
Tho' to the griefs of slavery long inured
They rose at length and broke the tyrant's rod;
With a firm gallantry their rights procured,
And in the paths of patient wisdom trode;
Tyranny crush'd-the first of duties done-
Long may they wear the laurels they have won!
YON once stately Oak bare and blasted now lies,
Its boughs scatter'd over the green;
The wood's leafy monarch no more shall it rise,
Or cover'd with verdure be seen.
The pride of the forest, it once rear'd its head,
And oft braved the pitiless blast,
Till through the dark sky the swift lightning flash'd And crush'd all its grandeur at last.
And such, foolish man, must at length be thy doom,
Tho' favour'd by riches and power,
No riches can rescue thee from the dark tomb,
Or shield thee from death for an hour.
Then why with such eagerness struggle for gain?
The poor man dies happy as thee!
Fame, honours and riches, bring sorrow and pain,
And none can resist death's decree.
Mary-le-bone, 1821.
NEAR the stream, whose restless billow
Seems to mourn her hapless lot,
Sleeping on her clay-cold pillow,
Young Florella lies forgot;
O'er her weeps an aged willow,
Many a wild flower decks the spot.
Poor Florella! once so charming;
Once her parents' blooming pride;
Once her Edwin's bosom warming
When she vowed to be his bride;
Now, even envy's self disarming,
Only to the dust allied!
To the boat her Edwin brought her,
Eager for the nuptial band;
Sudden swelled the heaving water
As she entered from the strand;
Edwin, who in safety thought her,
To destruction loosed her hand.
Soon he saw his charmer sinking,
Rushed into the treacherous wave,
To preserve her vainly thinking,
But alas! to find his grave!
She, was found, in cold death shrinking,
He was lost, who plunged to save.
WHEN he who loves thee is not near,
When thou art sad, and none to cheer,
When thou dost sigh, and none to hear,
Oh then remember me.
And when on pleasure's lap reclined,
Thy smiles bespeak thy happy mind,
And every gloomy thought's resign'd,
Still still remember me.
And when some other's treacherous art
Strives to expel me from thy heart,
Oh ere you bid that form depart
Pause-and remember me.
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