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Rush around her narrow dwelling! The exterminating fiend is fled
(Foul her life, and dark her doom) Mighty armies of the dead
Dance, like death-fires, round her tomb!
Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore
My soul beheld thy vision! Where alone,
Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne, Aye Memory sits: thy robe inscribed with gore, With many an unimaginable groan
Thou storied’st thy sad hours ! Silence ensued,
Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude, Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with
From the choired gods advancing,
Throughout the blissful throng,
Hushed were harp and song:
The fervent Spirit bowed, then spread his wings
Love and uncreated Light,
Seize thy terrors, Arm of might!
Masked hate and envying scorn!
By years of havoc yet unborn !
But chief by Afric's wrongs,
Strange, horrible, and foul!
Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow ? Speak ! from thy storm-black Heaven O speak
And on the darkling foe Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud !
O dart the flash ! ( rise and deal the blow! The Past to thee, to thee the Future cries ! Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below!
Rise, God of Nature! rise.”
The voice had ceased, the vision fled;
And ever, when the dream of night
My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start;
The soldier on the war-field spread,
Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead ! (The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,
And the night-wind clamours hoarse! See! the starting wretch's head
Lies pillowed on a brother's corse :)
Not yet enslaved, not wholly vile,
Echo to the bleat of flocks;
Proudly ramparted with rocks) And Ocean mid his
wild Speaks safety to his island-child.
Hence for many a fearless age
Nor ever proud invader's rage Or sacked thy towers, or stained thy fields with
Abandoned of Heaven! mad avarice thy guide, At cowardly distance, yet kindling with prideMid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast
stood, And joined the wild yelling of famine and blood ! The nations curse thee! They with eager won
dering Shall hear Destruction, like a vulture, scream! Strange-eyed Destruction ! who with many a
dream Of central fires through nether seas upthundering
Soothes her fierce solitude ; yet as she lies
O Albion! thy predestined ruins rise,
Away, my soul, away!
Away, my soul, away!
With daily prayer and daily toil
Soliciting for food my scanty soil,
Have wailed my country with a loud Lament. Now I recentre my immortal mind
In the deep sabbath of meek self-content; Cleansed from the vaporous passions that bedim God's Image, sister of the Seraphim.
FRANCE. AN ODE.
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
Whose pathless march no 'mortal may control !
Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe’er ye roll, Yield homage only to eternal laws! Ye Woods ! that listen to the night-birds singing,
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches swinging,
Have made a solemn music of the wind !
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable