MINOR POEMS

FRENCH REVOLUTION,

As it appeared to Enthusiasts at its commencement.

O, pleasant exercise of hope and joy!

For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven! O times?
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seem'd the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself

A prime enchantress - to assist the work,
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favour'd spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise-that which sets
(To take an image which was felt no doubt
Among the bowers of paradise itself)
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtility, and strength
Their ministers, who in lordly wise had stirr'd
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it; they, too, who of gentle mood
Had watch'd all gentle motions, and to these

Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore,—
All, all are English. Oft have I lookèd round
With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found
Myself so satisfied in heart before.

Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
Thought for another moment. Thou art free,
My country! and 'tis joy enough and pride
For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the grass
Of England once again, and hear and see,
With such a dear companion at my side.

September, 1802.

INLAND, within a hollow vale, I stood;

And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear,
The coast of France- the coast of France how near!
Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.

I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood

Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,

A span of waters; yet what power was there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be

Virtuous and wise. Winds blow and waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and power, and deity,
Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul
Only the nations shall be great and free.

Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of
Switzerland.

Two voices are there one is of the sea,
One of the mountains — each a mighty voice:
In both from age to age, thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!
There came a tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven,
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;

From trace of human foot or hand.

There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak,
In symphony austere ;

Thither the rainbow comes- - the cloud-
And mists that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams: and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past,
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.

Not free from boding thoughts, a while
The shepherd stood; then makes his way
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may;

Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground
The appall'd discoverer with a sigh
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:

He instantly recall'd the name,

And who he was, and whence he came ;
Remember'd, too, the very day

On which the traveller pass'd this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell !

A lasting monument of words

This wonder merits well.

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry,

This dog had been through three months' space A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that since the day
On which the traveller thus had died
The dog had watch'd about the spot,
Or by his master's side:

How nourish'd here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.

WHEN the brothers reach'd the gateway,
Eustace pointed with his lance

To the horn which there was hanging;
Horn of the inheritance.

Horn it was which none could sound,
No one upon living ground,

Save he who came as rightful heir
To Egremont's domains and castle fair.

Heirs from ages without record
Had the House of Lucie born,
Who of right had claim'd the lordship
By the proof upon the horn:

Each at the appointed hour

Tried the horn,— it own'd his power;
He was acknowledged: and the blast,

Which good Sir Eustace sounded, was the last.

With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,

And to Hubert thus said he :

'What I speak this horn shall witness
For thy better memory.

Hear, then, and neglect me not!
At this time, and on this spot,

The words are utter'd from my heart,

As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.

'On good service we are going
Life to risk by sea and land;

In which course if Christ our Saviour
Do my sinful soul demand,

Hither come thou back straightway,
Hubert, if alive that day;

Return, and sound the horn, that we
May have a living house still left in thee!'

'Fear not,' quickly answered Hubert ;
As I am thy father's son,

What thou asketh, noble brother,
With God's favour shall be done.'
So were both right well content :
From the castle forth they went;
And at the head of their array

To Palestine the brothers took their way.

Side by side they fought (the Lucies
Were a line for valour famed),

And where'er their strokes alighted,
There the Saracens were tamed.
Whence, then, could it come, the thought

By what evil spirit brought?

Oh! can a brave man wish to take

His brother's life, for land's and castle's sake?

'Sir,' the ruffians said to Hubert,

Deep he lies in Jordan flood.'

Stricken by this ill assurance,
Pale and trembling Hubert stood.
Take your earnings. Oh! that I
Could have seen my brother die !
It was a pang that vex'd him then!
And oft return'd-again, and yet again.

Months pass'd on, and no Sir Eustace
Nor of him were tidings heard.
Wherefore, bold as day, the murderer
Back again to England steer'd.