And the Land's humblest comforts. Now her mood Recalls the transformation of the flood, Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove, Of headstrong will! Can this be Piety? No, some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name; - And scourges England struggling to be free: Her peace destroyed! her hopes a wilderness! Her blessings cursed, her glory turned to shame! XLV. LAUD.* PREJUDGED by foes determined not to spare, Whose heart still flutters, though his wings forbear On hope that conscious innocence supplied, Why tarries then thy chariot? Wherefore stay, * See Note. No Spirit was she; that my heart betrayed, But while I gazed in tender reverie, (Or was it sleep that with my Fancy played?) mist; at length the golden hair, II. PATRIOTIC SYMPATHIES. LAST night, without a voice, that Vision spake Thou, too, dost visit oft my midnight dream; If thou hast fallen, and righteous Heaven restore VOL. IV. III. CHARLES THE SECOND. - WHO comes, To wantonness. Away, Circean revels ! That bigotry may swallow the good name, And, with that draught, the life-blood: misery, shame, By Poets loathed; from which Historians shrink! IV. LATITUDINARIANISM. Yet Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind Charged with rich words poured out in thought's defence; Whether the Church inspire that eloquence, Or a Platonic Piety confined To the sole temple of the inward mind; And one there is who builds immortal lays, Though doomed to tread in solitary ways, Sad thoughts; for from above the starry sphere Come secrets, whispered nightly to his ear; And the pure spirit of celestial light Shines through his soul,-"that he may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight." V. WALTON'S BOOK OF LIVES. THERE are no colors in the fairest sky So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing. With moistened eye We read of faith and purest charity In Statesman, Priest, and humble Citizen: Around meek Walton's heavenly memory. |