A brother's Child, most tenderly beloved! FRANCESCO was the name the Youth had borne, POZZOBONNELLI his illustrious house;
And, when beneath this stone the Corse was laid, of all Savona streamed with tears. Alas! the twentieth April of his life
Had scarcely flowered: and at this early time,
By genuine virtue he inspired a hope
That greatly cheered his country: to his kin
He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts
His friends had in their fondness entertained,*
He suffered not to languish or decay.
Now is there not good reason to break forth
Into a passionate lament ?-O Soul !
Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world,
Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air;
And round this earthly tomb let roses rise,
An everlasting spring! in memory
Of that delightful fragrance which was once
From thy mild manners quietly exhaled.
PAUSE, courteous Spirit!-Balbi supplicates
That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him
Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer
A prayer to the Redeemer of the world.
This to the dead by sacred right belongs;
* In justice to the Author, I subjoin the original :—
Non lasciava languire i bei pensieri.
All else is nothing.-Did occasion suit
To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb
Would ill suffice for Plato's lore sublime,
And all the wisdom of the Stagyrite,
Enriched and beautified his studious mind:
With Archimedes also he conversed
As with a chosen friend; nor did he leave
Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs
Twine near their loved Permessus.*-Finally,
Himself above each lower thought uplifting,
His ears he closed to listen to the songs
Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old;
And his Permessus found on Lebanon.t
A blessed Man! who of protracted days
Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep;
But truly did He live his life. Urbino,
Take pride in him!-O Passenger, farewell!
COMPOSED AT GRASMERE, DURING A WALK ONE EVENING, AFTER A STORMY DAY, THE AUTHOR HAVING JUST READ IN A NEWSPAPER THAT THE DISSOLUTION OF MR. FOX WAS HOURLY EXPECTED.
LOUD is the Vale! the Voice is up
With which she speaks when storms are gone,
A mighty unison of streams!
Of all her Voices, One!
* Twine on the top of Pindus.-Edit. 1815.
† And fixed his Pindus upon Lebanon.-Edit. 1815.
Loud is the Vale ;-this inland Depth
In peace is roaring like the Sea;
Yon star upon the mountain-top
Is listening quietly.
Sad was I, even to pain deprest,
Importunate and heavy load!*
The Comforter hath found me here,
Upon this lonely road;
And many thousands now are sad-
Wait the fulfilment of their fear;
For he must die who is their stay,
Their glory disappear.
A Power is passing from the earth
To breathless Nature's dark abyss;
But when the great and good depart +
What is it more than this-
That Man, who is from God sent forth,
Doth yet again to God return?—
Such ebb and flow must ever be,
Then wherefore should we mourn?
* Importuna e grave salma.-MICHAEL ANGELO.
But when the mighty pass away.-Edit. 1815.
WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF IN A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S POEM 66 THE EXCURSION," UPON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF THE
To public notice, with reluctance strong,
Did I deliver this unfinished Song ;
Yet for one happy issue ;—and I look
With self-congratulation on the Book
Which pious, learned, MURFITT saw and read ;-
Upon my thoughts his saintly Spirit fed;
He conned the new-born Lay with grateful heart-
Foreboding not how soon he must depart;
Unweeting that to him the joy was given
Which good men take with them from earth to heaven.
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM,
PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So
pure the sky, so quiet was the air!
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings :
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw ; and add the gleamı,
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream;
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine*
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven ;—
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been giver.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease,
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made :
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed.f
* Thou shouldst have seemed a Treasure-house, a mine.-Edit. 1815. A faith, a trust, that could not be betrayed.-Edit. 1815.
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