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But Kempenfelt is gone,
His victories are o'er;
Shall plough the wave no more.
1 fasten. 4 reeds.
3 elfin deadly.
Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny
skin, From BOOK I
The vellum of the pedigree they claim. There often wanders one, whom better Great skill have they in palmistry, and days
more Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimmed To conjure clean away the gold they touch, With lace, and hat with splendid riband Conveying worthless dross into its place; bound.
536 Loud when they beg, dumb only when they A serving-maid was she, and fell in love steal. With one who left her, went to sea, and Strange! that a creature rational, and cast died.
In human mould, should brutalize by Her fancy followed him through foaming choice
His nature, and, though capable of arts To distant shores, and she would sit and By which the world might profit and himweep
540 I self, At what a sailor suffers; fancy too, Self-banished from society, prefer Delusive most where warmest wishes are, Such squalid sloth to honorable toil!. Would oft anticipate his glad return, Yet even these, though, feigning sickness And dream of transports she was not to I oft, know.
They swathe the forehead, drag the limpShe heard the doleful tidings of his death,
L ing limb, And never smiled again. And now she | And vex their flesh with artificial sores, roams
546 | Can change their whine into a mirthful The dreary waste; there spends the live
note long day,
When safe occasion offers; and with dance, And there, unless when charity forbids, And music of the bladder and the bag, 585 The livelong night. A tattered apron Beguile their woes, and make the woods hides,
resound. Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a Such health and gaiety of heart enjoy gown
550 The houseless rovers of the sylvan world; More tattered still; and both but ill con And breathing wholesome air, and wanderceal
ing much, A bosom heaved with never-ceasing sighs. | Need other physic none to heal the effects She begs an idle pin of all she meets, Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. 591 And hoards them in her sleeve; but need
ful food, Though pressed with hunger oft, or come
From BOOK II lier clothes.' Though pinched with cold, asks never. Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Kate is crazed.
Some boundless contiguity of shade, I see a column of slow-rising smoke Where rumor of oppression and deceit, O’ertop the lofty wood that skirts the wild. Of unsuccessful or successful war, A vagabond and useless tribe there eat Might never reach me more! My ear is Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung 560 pained, Between two poles upon a stick transverse, My soul is sick with every day's report Receives the morsel; flesh obscene of dog, Of wrong and outrage with which earth is Or vermin, or, at best, of cock purloined filled. From his accustomed perch. Hard-faring There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart, . race!
It does not feel for man; the natural bond They pick their fuel out of every hedge, 565 Of brotherhood is severed as the flax 10 Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves That falls asunder at the touch of fire. unquenched
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin The spark of life. The sportive wind Not colored like his own, and, having blows wide
To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy
From BOOK V cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful
There shame to manhood, and opprobri
ous more prey.
15 Lands intersected by a narrow frith
To France than all her losses and defeats Abhor each other. Mountains interposed
Old or of later date, by sea or land, 381 Make enemies of nations who had else
Her house of bondage worse than that of
old Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
Which God avenged on Pharaoh-the Thus man devotes? his brother, and de
Bastile! stroys; And worse than all, and most to be de
Ye horrid towers, the abode of broken
hearts, plored, As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Ye dungeons and ye cages of despair, 385 Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his
That monarchs have supplied from age to
With music such as suits their sovereign With stripes that Mercy, with a bleeding
ears · heart, Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.25
The sighs and groans of miserable men, Then what is man? And what man
There's not an English heart that would
not leap seeing this,
To hear that ye were fallen at last, to And having human feelings, does not
That even our enemies, so oft employed And hang his head, to think himself a
In forging chains for us, themselves were man?
free: I would not have a slave to till my ground,
For he that values liberty, confines To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 30
His zeal for her predominance within And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
No narrow bounds; her cause engages
him That sinews bought and sold have ever
Wherever pleaded; 'tis the cause of man. earned. No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's Just estimation prized above all price,
ON THE RECEIPT OF MY I had much rather be myself the slave 35
MOTHER'S PICTURE And wear the bonds, than fasten them on
Oh that those lips had language! Life We have no slàves at home: then why has passed abroad?
With me but roughly since I heard thee And they themselves once ferried o’er the last. wave
Those lips are thine-thy own sweet That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. smile I see, Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their The same that oft in childhood solaced me; lungs
40 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, Receive our air, that moment they are | “Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears free;
6 They touch our country, and their shackles | The meek intelligence of those dear eyes fall.
(Blest be the art that can immortalise, That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud The art that baffles Time's tyrannic And jealous of the blessing. Spread it claim then,
| To quench it) here shines on me still the And let it circulate through every vein 45 same.
10 Of all your empire; that where Britain's Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, power
O welcome guest, though unexpected here! Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. Who bidst me honor with an artless song, I vows to destruction.
Affectionate, a mother lost so long,
I will obey, not willingly alone,
'Tis now become a history little known, But gladly, as the precept were her own: That once we called the pastoral house And, while that face renews my filial grief, our own. Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Short-lived possession! but the record fair Shall steep me in Elysian reverie,
That memory keeps, of all thy kindness A momentary dream that thou art she. 20
55 My mother! when I learned that thou Still outlives many a storm that has efwast dead,
faced Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I | A thousand other themes less deeply shed?
traced. Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, Wretch even then, life's journey just That thou mightst know me safe and begun?
warmly laid; Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, a kiss:
25 The biscuit, or confectionary plum; 61 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss The fragrant waters on my cheeks beAh, that maternal smile! It answers
By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, glowed; I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, All this, and more endearing still than And turning from my nursery window, all, drew
Thy constant flow of love, that knew no A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! fall,
- 65 But was it such?-It was.-Where thou Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and art gone
brakes Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. That humor interposed too often makes; May I but meet thee on that peaceful All this still legible in memory's page, shore,
And still to be so to my latest age, The parting word shall pass my lips no Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 70 more!
35 Such honors to thee as my numbers may; Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my | Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, concern,
Not scorned in heaven, though little Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. noticed here. What ardently I wished I long believed, Could Time, his flight reversed, restore And, disappointed still, was still de the hours, ceived.
When, playing with thy vesture's tissued By expectation every day beguiled, 40 flowers,
75 Dupe of lo-morrow even from a child. The violet, the pink, and jassamine, Thus many a sad to-morrow came and I pricked them into paper with a pin went,
(And thou wast happier than myself the Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, while, I learned at last submission to my lot; Would softly speak, and stroke my head But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er for and smile), got.
45 Could those few pleasant days again Where once we dwelt our name is appear, heard no more,
Might one wish bring them, would I wish Children not thine have trod my nursery I them here? floor;
I would not trust my heart—the dear deAnd where the gardener Robin, day by day, I light Drew me to school along the public way, Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.Delighted with my bauble coach, and But no—what here we call our life is such, wrapped
50 So little to be loved, and thou so much, In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet That I should ill requite thee to constrain capped,
| Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's And, while the wings of Fancy still are coast
free, (The storms all weathered and the ocean And I can view this mimic show of thee, crossed)
Time has but half succeeded in his theftShoots into port at some well-havened Thyself removed, thy power to soothe isle, 90 me left.
121 Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons
smile, There sits quiescent on the floods that SONNET TO MRS. UNWIN
show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, Mary! I want a lyre with other strings, While airs impregnated with incense play Such aid from heaven as some have Around her, fanning light her streamers feigned they drew, gay;
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached new, the shore,
And undebased by praise of meaner things! “Where tempests never beat nor billows That, ere through age or woe I shed my roar.”
wings, And thy loved consort on the dangerous I may record thy worth, with honor
tide Of life long since has anchored by thy In verse as musical as thou art true, side.
Verse that immortalizes whom it sings. But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, But thou hast little need. There is a book, Always from port withheld, always dis By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly tressed101 light,
10 Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest On which the eyes of God not rarely look; tossed,
A chronicle of actions just and bright; Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, compass lost,
shine, And day by day some current's thwarting And since thou ownest that praise, I spare force
thee mine. Sets me more distant from a prosperous course.
105 Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe,
TO MARY and he! That thought is joy, arrive what may The twentieth year is well-nigh past, to me.
Since first our sky was overcast; My boast is not, that I deduce my birth | Ah, would that this might be the last!. From loins enthroned and rulers of the
My Mary! earth; But higher far my proud pretensions Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
110 I see thee daily weaker grow; The son of parents passed into the skies! 'Twas my distress that brought thee low, And now, farewell—Time unrevoked has
My Mary! run His wonted course, yet what I wished is Thy needles, once a shining store, done.
For my sake restless heretofore, By contemplation's help, not sought in Now rust disused, and shine no more, vain,
My Mary! I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again;
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil To have renewed the joys that once were | The same kind office for me still, mine,
Thy sight now seconds not thy will, 15 Without the sin of violating thine: