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With trampling horses and refulgent cars, | That wakes the breeze, the sparkling Soon to be swallow'd by the briny surge; Doth hurry to the lawn;

(lymph Or cast, for lingering death, on unknown She, who inspires that strain of joyance strands;

holy

[ancholy,? Or caught amid a whirl of desert sands, which the sweet Bird, misnamed the mel. An Army now, and now a living hill Pours forth in shady groves, shall plead That a brief while heaves with convulsive

for me; throes,

And vernal mornings opening bright Then all is still;

With yiews of undefin'd delight, Or, to forget their madness and their woes, And cheerful songs, and suns that shine Wrapt in a winding-sheet of spotless On busy days, with thankful nights, be snows!

mine. V.

VII. Back flows the willing current of my Song: But thou, O Goddess! in thy favourite If to provoke such doom the Impious dare, (Freedom's impregnable redoubt, [Isle, Why should it daunt a blameless prayer? The wide Earth’s store-house fenced Bold Goddess! range our Youth among;

about Nor let thy genuine impulse fail to beat With breakers roaring to the gales In hearts no longer young:

That stretch a thousand thousand sails,) Still may a veteran Few have pride Quicken the slothful, and exalt the vile! In thoughts whose sternness makes them Thy impulse is the life of Fame; sweet;

Glad Hope would almost cease to be In fix'd resolves by Reason justified; If torn from thy society; That to their object cleave like sleet And Love, when worthiest of his name, Whitening a pine tree's northern side, Is proud to walk the Earth with Thee! When fields are naked far and wide, And wither'd leaves, from earth's cold breast

Yes, it was the mountain Echo, Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can

Solitary, clear, profound, find rest.

Answering to the shouting Cuckoo, VI.

Giving to her sound for sound! But, if such homage thou disdain

Unsolicited reply As doth with mellowing years agree,

To a babbling wanderer sent; One rarely absent from thy train

Like her ordinary cry,
More humble favours may obtain

Like, - but, 0, how different!
For thy contented Votary.
She, who incites the frolic lambs

Ilears not also mortal Life? -
In
presence of their heedless dams,

Hear not we, unthinking Creatures! And to the solitary fawn

Slaves of folly, love, or strife Vouchsafes her lessons, bounteous Nymph Voices of two different natures?

Have not we too?- yes, we have
Answers, and we kno not whence;
Echoes from beyond the grave,
Recognised intelligence!

17 So Milton, in Il Penseroso, addressing
the nightingale:
"Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of

folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!"
Coleridge, also, in his Nightingale, repu-
diates the cpithet:

A melancholy bird ! O, idle thought ! In Nature there is nothing melancholy."

Such rebounds our inward ear
Catches sometimes from afar;
Listen, ponder, hold them dear;
For of God,- of God they are.

[1806.

THE EGYPTIAN MAID;

OR, THE ROMANCE OF THE WATER-LILY. 8 [For the names and persons in the following poem, see the “ History of the re. nowned Prince Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table;" for the rest the Author is answerable; only it may be proper to add, that the Lotus, with the bust of the Goddess appearing to rise out of the full-blown flower, was suggested by the beau. tiful work of ancient art, once included among the Townley Marbles, and now in the British Museum.]

WHILE Merlin paced the Cornish sands,
Forth-looking toward the rocks of Scilly,
The pleased Enchanter was aware
Of a bright Ship that seem'd to hang in air;

Yet was she work of mortal hands,
And took from men her name, THE WATER-LILY.

Soft was the wind that landward blew;
And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,
Grows from a little edge of light
To a full orb, this Pinnace bright

Became, as nearer to the coast she drew,
More glorious, with spread sail and streaming pendant.

Upon this winged Shape so fair
Suge Merlin gazed with admiration:
Her lineaments, thought he, surpass
Aught that was ever shown in magic glass;

Was ever built with patient care;
Or, at a touch, produced by happiest transformation.

Now, though a Mechanist whose skill
Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science,
Grave Merlin (and belike the more
For practising occult and perilous lore)

Was subject to a freakish will
That sapp'd good thoughts, or scared them with defiance.

Provoked to envious spleen, he cast
An alter'd look upon th' advancing Stranger
Whom he had hail'd with joy, and cried,
“My Art shall help to tame her pride:”

Anon the breeze became a blast,
And the waves rose, and sky portended danger.

8 This poem rose out of a few words casually used in conversation by my nephew, Henry Hutchinson. He was describing with great spirit the appearance and movement of a vessel which he seemed to admire more than any other he had ever seen, and said her name was the Water-Lily. This plant has been my delight from my boyhood, as I have seen it floating on the lake; and that conversation put me upon constructing and composing the poem. Had I not heard those words, it would never have been written. - Author's Notes.

With thrilling word, and potent sign
Traced on the beach, his work the Sorcerer urges;
The clouds in blacker clouds are lost,
Like spiteful Fiends that vanish, cross’d

By Fiends of aspect more malign;
And the winds roused the Deep with fiercer scourges.

But worthy of the name she bore
Was this Sea-flower, this buoyant Galley;
Supreme in loveliness and grace
Of motion, whether in th' embrace
Of trusty anchorage, or scudding o'er
The main flood roughen'd into hill and valley.

Behold, how wantonly she laves
Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding;
Like something out of Ocean sprung
To be for ever fresh and young,

Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves
Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!

But Ocean under magic heaves,
And cannot spare the Thing he cherish’d:
Ah! what avails that she was fair,
Luminous, blithe, and debonair?

The storm has stripp'd her of her leaves;
The Lily floats no longer!-- she hath perish'd. .

Grieve for her, she deserves no less;
So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature!
No heart had she, no busy brain;
Though loved, she could not love again;

Though pitied, feel her own distress;
Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of Nature.

Yet is there cause for gushing tears,
So richly was this Galley laden:
A fairer than herself she bore,
And, in her struggles, cast ashore;

A lovely One, who nothing hears
Of wind or wave,

a meek and guileless Maiden. Into a cave had Merlin fled From mischief caused by spells himself had mutter'd; And while, repentant all too late, In moody posture there he sate,

He heard a voice, and saw, with half-raised head, A Visitant by whom these words were utter'd:

“ On Christian service this frail Bark
Sail'd (hear me, Merlin !) under high protection,
Though on her prow a sign of heathen power
Was carved,-a Goddesss with a Lily flower,

The old Egyptian's emblematic mark
Of joy immortal and of pure affection.

Her course was for the British strand;
Her freight, it was a Damsel peerless :
God reigns above, and Spirits strong
May gather to avenge this wrong

Done to the Princess, and her Land,
Which she in duty left, sad but not cheerless.

And to Caerleon's loftiest tower
Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table
A cry of lamentation send;
And all will weep who there attend,

To grace that Stranger's bridal hour,
For whom the sea was made unnavigable.

Shame! should a Child of royal line
Die through the blindness of thy malice!”
Thus to the Necromancer spake
Nina, the Lady of the Lake,
A gentle Sorceress, and benign,
Who ne’er embitter'd any good man's chalice.

“What boots,” continued she,“ to mourn ?
To expiate thy sin endeavour:
From the bleak isle where she is laid,
Fetch'd by our art, th' Egyptian Maid

May yet to Arthur's Court be borne,
Cold as she is, ere life be fled for ever.

My pearly Boat, a shining Light,
That brought me down that sunless river,
Will bear me on from wave to wave,
And back with her to this sea-cave; —
Then, Merlin, for a rapid flight
Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver.

The very swiftest of thy cars
Must, when my part is done, be ready;
Meanwhile, for further guidance, look
Into thy own prophetic book;

And, if that fail, consult the Stars
To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."
This scarcely spoken, she again
Was seated in her gleaming shallop,
That o'er the yet-distemper'd Deep
Pursued its way with bird-like sweep,

Or like a steed, without a rein,
Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop.

Soon did the gentle Nina reach
That Isle without a house or haven;
Landing, she found not what she sought,
Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught

But a carved Lotus cast upon the beach
By the fierce waves, a flower in marble graven.

Sad relique, but how fair the while !
For gently each from each retreating
With backward curve, the leaves reveal'd
The bosom half, and half conceal’d,

Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile
On Nina, as she pass'd, with hopeful greeting.

No quest was hers of vague desire,
Of tortured hope and purpose shaken;
Following the margin of a bay,
She spied the lonely Cast-away,

Unmarr'd, unstripp'd of her attire,
But with closed eyes,- of breath and bloom forsaken.

Then Nina, stooping down, embraced,
With tenderness and mild emotion,
The Damsel, in that trance embound;
And, while she raised her from the ground,

And in the pearly shallop placed,
Sleep fell

upon

the air, and stillid the ocean.
The turmoil hush'd, celestial springs
Of music open'd, and there came a blending
Of fragrance, underived from Earth,
With gleams that owed not to the Sun their birth,
And that soft rustling of invisible wings
Which Angels make, on works of love descending.

And Nina heard a sweeter voice
Than if the Goddess of the flower had spoken;
“Thou hast achieved, fair Dame! what none
Less pure in spirit could have done;

Go, in thy enterprise rejoice!
Air, earth, sea, sky, and heaven, success betoken.”

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