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That wretched boon, days lengthen'd by mistrust.
So were the hopeless troubles, that involved
The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved.
Released from life and cares of princely state,
He left this moral grafted on his fate,
“ Him only pleasure leads and peace attends,
Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends,
Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends."

(1816.

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be? -
It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, bath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright:
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care:
Who, doom'd to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature's highest dower;
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives:
By objects, which might force the soul to abate
Her feeling, render'd more compassionate;
Is placable, because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;
Whence, in a State where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He labonrs good on good to fix, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows:

Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;
Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow, on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all:
Whose powers shed round him in the common strife
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be call’d upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has join'd
Great issues, good or bad for human kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired;
And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or, if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
He who, though thus endued as with a sense
And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans
To home-felt pleasures and to gentle scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love.
'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye,
Or left unthought-of in obscurity, -
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not,
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be won:
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;
Who, not content that former worth stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the last,
From well to better, daily self-surpast:
Who, whether praise of him must walk the Earth
For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,
Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame,
And leave a dead unprofitable name,

Finds comfort in himself and in his cause;
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause:
This is the happy Warrior; this is He
That every Man in arms should wish to be.

[1806.

SONNETS.
WHERE lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?
Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day,
Festively she puts forth in trim array:
Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow?
What boots th' inquiry? – Neither friend nor foe
She cares for; let her travel where she

may,
She finds familiar names, a beaten way
Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark?
And, almost as it was when ships were rare,
(From time to time, like Pilgrims, here and there
Crossing the waters,) doubt, and something dark,
Of the old Sea some reverential fear,
Is with me at thy farewell, joyous Bark!

WITH ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,
Like stars in heaven, and joyously it show'd;
Some lying fast at anchor in the road,
Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A goodly Vessel did I then espy
Come like a giant from a haven broad;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
This Ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a Lover's look;
This Ship to all the rest did I prefer:
When will she turn, and whither? She will brook
No tarrying; where She comes the winds must stir:
On went She, and due north her journey took.

DEVOTIONAL INCITEMENTS. And humours change, are spurn'd like

weeds: ["Not to the earth confined, The priests are from their altars thrust; Ascend to heaven.”]

Temples are levell’d with the dust;

And solemn rites and awful forms WHERE will they stop, those breathing Founder amid fanatic storms. Powers,

Yet evermore, through years renew'd The Spirits of the new-born flowers ?

In undisturbed vicissitude They wander with the breeze, they wind

Of seasons balancing their flight Where'er the streams a passage find;

On the swift wings of day and night, Up from their native ground they rise

Kind Nature keeps a heavenly door In mute aërial harmonies :

Wide open for the scatter'd Poor. From humble violet — modest thyme

Where flower-breathed incense to the Exhaled, th' essential odours climb,

skies As if no space below the sky

Is wafted in mute harmonies; Their subtle flight could satisfy:

And ground fresh-cloven by the plough Heaven will not tax our thoughts with

Is fragrant with a humbler vow; pride

Where birds and brooks from leafy dells If like ambition be their guide. [ers,

Chime forth unwearied canticles, Roused by this kindliest of May-show

And vapours magnify and spread The spirit-quickener of the flowers,

The glory of the Sun's bright head,That with moist virtue softly cleaves

Still constant in her worship, still The buds, and freshens the young leaves, Conforming to th’ eternal Will, The birds pour forth their souls in notes

Whether men sow or reap the fields, Of rapture from a thousand throats,

Divine monition Nature yields, Here check'd by too impetuous haste,

That not by bread alone we live, While there the music runs to waste,

Or what a hand of flesh can give; With bounty more and more enlarged,

That every day should leave some part Till the whole air is overcharged:

Free for a sabbath of the heart: Give ear, O Man! to their appeal,

So shall the seventh be truly blest, And thirst for no inferior zeal,

From morn to eve, with hallow'd rest. Thou, who canst think, as well as feel.

(1832 Mount from the Earth; aspirel aspire! So pleads the town's cathedral quire, In strains that from their solemn height

ODE TO DUTY. Sink, to attain a loftier flight;

“Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eò While incense from the altar breathes

perductus, ut non tantum rectè facere Rich fragrance in embodied wreaths; possim, sed nisi rectè facere non posOr, flung from swinging censer, shrouds The taper-lights, and curls in clouds STERN Daughter of the Voice of God! Around angelic Forms, the still

O Duty! if that name thou love Creation of the painter's skill,

Who årt a light to guide, a rod That on the service wait conceal'd To check the erring, and reprove; One moment, and the next reveal’d. - Thou, who art victory and law Cast off your bonds, awake, arise, When empty terrors overawe; And for no transient ecstasies!

From vain temptations dost set free; What else can mean the visual plea And calni'st the weary strife of frail hu. Of still or moving imagery,

manity! The iterated summons loud, Not wasted on th' attendant crowd,

1 Nor wholly lost upon the throng

“No longer good by conscious effort,

but so led on to goodness by habit, that Hurrying the busy streets along? now I not only can do what is right, but Alas! the sanctities combined

am unable to do otherwise." -- The motto By art to unsensualise the mind,

well propounds the central thought of

this noble Ode, which is “all compact”. Decay and languish; or, as creeds

of the finest gold.

sim." 1

There are who ask not if thine eye My hopes no more must change their Bo on them; who, in love and truth,

name, Whore no misgiving is, rely

I long for a repose that ever is the same. Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts, without reproach or blot; Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear Who do thy work, and know it not:

The Godhead's most benignant grace; O, if through confidence misplaced

Nor know we any thing so fair They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power, As is the smile upon thy face: around them cast!

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,

And fragrance in thy footing treads; Serene will be our days and bright, Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And happy will our nature be,

And the most ancient heavens, througlı When love is an unerring light,

Thee, are fresh and strong.
And joy its own security.
And they a blissful course may hold

To humbler functions, awful Power! Even now, who, not unwisely bold,

I call thee: I myself commend Live in the spirit of this creed;

Unto thy guidance from this hour; Yet seek thy firm support, according to O, let my weakness have an end ! their need.

Give unto me, made lowly wise,

The spirit of self-sacrifice; I, loving freedom, and untried;

The confidence of reason give; No sport of every random gust,

And in the light of truth thy Bondman let Yet being to myself a guide,

me live!

(1805. Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred

ODE TO LYCORIS. The task, in smoother walks to stray;

MAY, 1817. But thee I now would serve more strictly,

1.

An age hath been when Earth was proud Through no disturbance of my soul,

Of lustre too intense
Or strong compunction in me wrought, To be sustain'd; and Mortals bow'd
I supplicate for thy control;

The front in self-defence.
But in the quietness of thought:

Who then, if Dian's crescent gleam'd, Me this uncharter'd freedom tires; 3 Or Cupid's sparkling arrow stream'd I feel the weight of chancc-desires;

While on the wing the Urchin play'd,

Could fearlessly approach the shade?2 The poet here strikes a deep prin. Enough for one soft vernal day, ciple of ethics. When a man is so in love Ifl, a bard of ebbing time, with Duty as to find his supreme delight And nurtured in a fickle clime, therein, then he will naturally be held to her service by the sweetness of it, and May haunt this hornèd bay; constancy in that service will needs per- Whose amorous water multiplies petuate his joy.

The flitting halcyon's vivid dyes; 3 With Englishmen, the word charter carries the sense of liberty secured by And smooths her liquid breast, to show law. But that which protects freedom These swan-like specks of mountain necessarily restrains and limits it. And

snow, inward frecdom is a blessing, and by up

[plains right minds is felt to be such, so far only White as the pair that slid along the as the inner man is seli-restrained and Of heaven, when Venus held tlre reins 14 ordered in submission to the law of conscience. Now, Duty, with her stern legislation, is the proper home of conscience; 4 This poem originated in the last four and so none but the willing bondmen lines of the first stanza. Those specks of of Duty can have the peace and joy of snow, rellected in the lake and so transthat home. In the well-known words of terred, as it were, to the subaqueous sky, Hooker, “Of Law there can no less be reminded me of the swans which the acknowledged, than that her seat is the ancy of the ancient classic poets yoked bosom of God, her voice the harmony of to the car of Venus. Hence the tenor of the world."

the whole first stanza, and the name of

if I may

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