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They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn
The tree will wither long before it fall; !
The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn ;
The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall
In massy hoariness; the ruined wall
Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gobe;
The bars survive the captive they enthral ;
The day drags through though storms keep out the sun; And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on :
Even as a broken mirror, which the glass
la every fragment multiplies; and makes
A thousand images of one that was,
The same, and still the more, the more it breaks ;
And thus the heart will do which not forsakes,
Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold,
And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches,
Yet withers on till all without is old,
Shewing no visible sign, for such things are untold.
There is a very life in our despair,
Vitality of poison,ma quick root
Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were
As nothing did we die; but Life will suit
Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit,
Like to the apples on the (8) Dead Sea's shore,
All ashes to the taste; Did man compute
Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er (threescore ! Such hours 'gainst years of life,-say, would he name
The Psalmist numbered out the years of man:
They are enough; and if thy tale be true,
Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span,
More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo!
Millions of tongues record thee, and anew
Their children's lips shall echo them, and say.com
"Here, where the sword united nations drew,
“Our countrymen were warring on that day!” And this is much and all which will not pass away.
There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of mon,
Whose spirit antithetically mixt
One moment of the mightiest, and again
On little objects with like firmvess fixt,
Extreme in all things I hadst thou been betwixt,
Thy throne had still been thine, or never beeu ;
For daring made thy rise as fall: thou seek'st
Even now to re-assume the imperial mien,
And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the scene!
Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou !
She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name,
Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now
That thou art nothing, save the jest of fame
Who wooed thee ouce, thy vassal, and became
The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert
A god unto thyself; nor less the same
To the astounded kingdoms all inert,
Who deem'd thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert.
Ob, more or less than man in high or low,
Battling with nations, flyipg from the field;
Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now
More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield;
An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild,
But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor,
However deeply in men's spirits skill'd,
Look through thine own, uor curb the lust of war, Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest star.
XXXIX. Yet well thy soul hath brook'd the turning tíde With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Isgall and worm wood to an enemy. When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-epduring eye,
When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child, He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon kira piled.
Sager than in thy fortune; for in them
Ambition steei'd thee on too far to show
That just habitual scorn which could contemn
Men and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, kot so
To wrar it ever on thy lip and brow,
And spurn the instruments thou wert to use
Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow:
'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose;
So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who choose.
XLI. 'If, like a tower upon a headlong rock, Thou hadst been made to fall or stand alone, Such scorn of man had helped to brave the shock ; But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy Their admiration thy best weapon shone ;
The part of Philip's son was thine, not then
(Unless aside thy purple hath been thrown)
Like stern Diogenes to mock at men;
Por sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den.
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire
And motion of the soul which will not dwell
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire;
And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,
Preys upon high adventure, por can tire
Of anght, but rest; a fever at the core,
Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.
This makes the madman who bave made men mad
By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings,
Founders of sects and systems, to whom add
Sophists, Bards, Statesman, all unquiet things
Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs,
And are themselves the fools to those they fiol;
Eavied, yet how upenviable! what stings
Are theirs ! One breast laid open were a school
Which would unteach mankind the Inet to shipe or rule.
Their breath is agitation, and their life
A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last,
And yet so nuro'd and bigotted to strife,
That should their days, surviving perils past,
Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast
With sorrow and supineness,
and so die;
Even ás flame unfed, which runs to waste
With its own flickering, or a sword laid by
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.
He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow
He who surpasses or subdues mankind,
Must look down on the hate of those below
Though high above, the sun of glory glow,
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow
Contending tempests ou his naked head,
And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.
Away with these! true Wisdom's world will be
Within its own creation, or in thine,
Maternal Nature! for who teems like thee,
Thus on the banks of thiy majestic Rbine?
There Harold gazes on a work divine,
A blending of all beauties; streams and dells,
Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine,
And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gay but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
XLVII, And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind, Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, All tenantless, save to the crannying wind, Or holding dark communion with the cloud, There was a day when they were young and proud, Banners on high, and battle's pass'd below; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,
And those which waved are shredless dust ere now, And the bleak, battlemçnts shall bear no futare blow, id
XLVIII. Beneath these battlements," within those walls Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state, Each robber chief upheld his armed halls, Doing his evil will, nor less elate Than mightier heroes of a longer date, What want these outlaws (10) conqueror's should have But History's purchased page to call them great ? A wider space, an ornamented grave ?
(brave. Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as
In their baronial feuds and single fields,
What deeds of prowess unrecorded died !
And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields,
With emblems well devised by amorous pride,
Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide;
But still their flame was fierceness, and drew ou
Keen contest and destruction near allied;
And many a tower for some fair mischief won,
Saw the discoloured Rhine beneath its ruin run.
L. But Thou, exulting avd abounding river! . Making thy waves a blessing as they flow Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever Could man but leave thy bright creation so, Nor its fair promise from the surface mow With the sharp scythe of conflict,-then to see Thy valley of sweet waters were to know
Earth paved like Heaven, and to seem such to me [be. Even now what wants thy stream !--that it should Lethe
A thousand battles have assail'd thy banks,
But ihese and half their fànie have pass'd away
And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks
Their very graves are gone, and what are they?
Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday,
And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream
Glass'd with its dancing light the sunny ray;
But o'er the blackened memory's blighting dream
Tby waves would suinly roll, all sweeping as they seena.